I smile. “The lobby has clear sightlines, natural gathering zones, and circulation paths that prevent bottlenecks.”
I switch slides and gesture toward the screen.
“You’ll notice that the grand staircase splits the traffic patterns. Patrons heading to the upper balconies move along one path, while ground-level guests flow naturally toward the bars and lounge areas.”
A murmur of interest moves down the table.
One of the board members leans closer to the screen, studying the diagram more carefully.
“This reduces congestion significantly,” I continue. “But more importantly, it makes the building feel welcoming. People should want to linger here, not rush in and out.”
Jackson nods slowly, and there’s a shift in the atmosphere in the room. The cautious evaluation from when I walked in has softened into genuine curiosity.
Another board member, a woman with sharp glasses and a navy suit, lifts her hand.
“And the rehearsal spaces?” she asks. “How accessible are they to visiting companies?”
“Very,” I say immediately, clicking to the next slide. The layout fills the screen, showcasing bright rehearsal studios, large windows, and modular walls. “The rehearsal wing sits adjacent to the performance spaces but maintains acoustic separation,” I explain. “Companies can rehearse during daytime hours while another production performs at night without sound bleed.”
I pause briefly, giving them a chance to fully take in the image.
“And the studios are flexible,” I add. “They can be opened for workshops, master classes, or community programming.”
More nods and someone even murmurs, “That’s smart.”
Jackson glances around the table, a little smile playing about his mouth.
“And the exterior plaza?” he asks.
I click forward to the next rendering, which shows the outdoor plaza.
“The plaza becomes an extension of the building,” I explain. “A public performance space. Free concerts, pop-up shows, community festivals.” I look back toward the board. “Art shouldn’t only exist behind a ticket counter.”
For a moment, the room is quiet.
Then Jackson lets out a low, impressed breath.
“Well,” he says, setting his pen down. “You certainly came prepared.”
I swallow, unsure if that means he actually likes what I’ve presented. He seems to, but I know better than to assume anything in situations like this.
Another board member, a man with dark hair, leans forward and clasps his hands together on the table. He stares at me intently, his expression difficult to read, and my stomach begins to churn with worry.
“Well, I have a very serious proposition,” he says, and it feels as though the floor falls right out from beneath my feet.
The moment I step out of Romero’s building, I spot Jayce waiting for me. He’s sitting on a stone bench next to the building and as if he can sense me, he looks up and meets my gaze.
He stands immediately. I start walking toward him, my mind racing and my heart pounding harder with every step. Jayce’s expression shifts the closer I get into a look of concern. He moves forward to meet me halfway, his long strides closing the distance between us.
“Sutton?” he says, scanning my face with concern. “Hey, what happened? Are you okay?”
He reaches me and his hands hover near my arms, like he’s readying to catch me if I fall apart.
For a second, I just stare at him intently. I sigh.
And then a laugh bursts out of me.
Jayce blinks. “What…?”
