He nodded once, like he understood gratitude but didn’t need it to be a big deal. “Your work is good. People pay for good work.”
My eyes stung, and I hated that too. I wasn’t a crybaby. I was a single mother with bills and pride. But this wasn’t just money. It was validation. It was somebody with a real platform saying I wasn’t crazy for believing in myself.
My heart started to beat too fast.
I lifted a hand slightly. “Can I have a minute?”
Sincere leaned back, giving me space. “Sure.”
I inhaled slowly. Then again.
Trying to gather myself, I couldn’t tell what was stealing my air; the weight of the opportunity, or the man giving it to me.
Maybe it was both.
6
SINCERE BELLAMY
Ilet her have a minute because I needed one too. She was overwhelmed by the opportunity while I was overwhelmed by her. While stalking her photos on Instagram for the last two days, I had wondered if her pictures had consumed me, what standing in front of her would do. I knew that, in person, with her breathing the same air as me, with that energy I’d felt through a phone, I’d be done for.
And I was. Sitting next to her, she was just as consuming. Worse, actually. Because now she was real, and now I knew that her personality was even more infectious than her looks. Her humility was humbling. She didn’t come in with an attitude like she deserved any of this. She was embarrassed that she was overwhelmed. But to me, it was admirable and rare. She was beautiful on the outside, but her aura felt legendary.
“I’m sorry,” Rhythm said again with a shaky voice. “I’m just so grateful. I don’t even know why Aria would do all of this just because she liked one of my paintings.” Her eyes glassed over. “I’m… I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize for being grateful.” I grabbed the tissue box off my desk and slid it toward her.
She took one and dabbed her eyes, while giving a small, embarrassed laugh. “I want to be professional. But I’m just… overwhelmed.”
“You don’t have to put on a façade for me. I want you to be yourself. That’s the person I want to get to know, since we will be doing business together.”
She looked up, relieved. “Good, because I don’t have a clue what you’ve been talking about.”
I chuckled. “What part?”
Her shoulders dropped a little, like she’d been waiting for permission to be vulnerable. “What’s an artist fee? And what do you mean an agreement for sales and commission splits through Voss?”
“The artist fee is the money you get paid for being the featured artist,” I explained. “It’s guaranteed. It’s not tied to whether you sell a piece or not.”
She nodded slowly. “Okay.”
“And the agreement for sales is the paperwork that outlines how sales will work through Voss Contemporary House. They’re the gallery, so they handle the transaction. They bring the clientele, they handle payments, receipts, buyer communication, and they help protect your work. And the commission split is the percentage the gallery takes from each sale. That’s standard. It covers the space, their overhead, their buyer list, and their involvement in getting your work in front of people who can actually afford it.”
I watched her as I spoke, because I could see when she started to get overwhelmed.
“You following me?”
“Yes,” she answered quickly.
“Do you feel comfortable?”
She hesitated, then nodded. “Yes.”
“Alright. Ask whatever you need. In here, you’re safe to not know something.”
Her eyes softened in a way that did something to me I didn’t have time to unpack.
She inhaled, then admitted, “I don’t really know how to price my pieces. I’ve only sold to local small businesses. And my price has always been whatever felt fair, or whatever I thought somebody would actually pay. I don’t want to price myself too high or low.”
