“I thought you said you didn’t mind having meetings here?” I ask, turning my focus back to an annoyed Max.
“I was- I mean I don’t. Sort of,” he responds. Gradually he pulls his eyes away from Yana and looks at me. “I didn’t expect it to be this tense here. There’s guards everywhere. Everyone looks like they can murder me with their pinky.”
“They probably could,” I reply with a chuckle.
Max’s face goes paper white and I stop teasing.
“Hey, we’re here to talk about my next show, right?” I ask. “So let’s talk. “I’m thinking I can have some new pieces ready by October.”
“October?!” Max exclaims.
His reaction catches me off guard. Yana catches my sudden stiffness and shoots Max a warning glare.
“What’s wrong with October?” I ask Max.
“Oh, honey. It’s just not going to work! Your work was just starting to pick up when we had your last show. That was over three months ago now, and you’ll be forgotten if you wait much longer. That’s why I went ahead and sent out invitations for next week. It’s already drawing a big crowd.”
I feel myself pale as Max reaches into his brown leather satchel and pulls out a portfolio. He opens it then hands me an invitation with my name in big letters. It’s scheduled for next Friday and Saturday at Stone & Flesh from 6 p.m. to midnight both nights.
“Max, I can’t believe you did this without talking to me!” I exclaim, handing the invitation to Yana.
“Listen, honey,” Max says in hisI’m the managertone, “Your job is to create. My job is sell what you create. You know me. You know I can be pushy. This is a fast-paced world and I don’t want your reputation to disappear. I wouldn’t have taken you on as a client if I didn’t believe in you. So you’re going to pull some pieces out of your ass and you’re going to put on pretty dress, andweare going to sell your sculptures for the fortune they’re worth. Understand?”
Inspirational yet diabolical. That’s what Max is. Yet every word he says is true, and I know it. The art world is fast paced. Everyone who thinks they have talent in New York City- and that'sa lot-is trying to paint, sculpt, or photograph their way to fame, and if I wait too long, well... Max is right. What reputation I have built for myself so far will disappear.
“Fine,” I sigh. “I have six pieces finished. They’re not very big, but-”
“This is one of the few times I’ll say size doesn’t matter,” Max cuts me off, and I give a dry laugh. He can be such a queen sometimes.
“Where are they? Are they here? I want to see them.”
I shake my head as I pull up the pictures of them on my phone and hand it over to him. He takes it and begins to nod.
“They’re in my warehouse. You have the key,” I reply.
“They’ll do,” he says, handing me my phone back. “But I want eight. What have you got going on here?”
I get up and walk over to the piece I finished just a few days ago and remove the tarp. It’s a deep red marble with black veins, carved into an extremely well-muscled torso of a woman. Inspired by Yana. She seems to understand this because when I throw a glance at her, she blushes- actually blushes!
“It’s nice,” Max muses, reaching up to run his hands down the marble abdomen. “Not great. Not terrible. But nice. I can get it sold for $30-40k, I think.”
“I think it’s excellent,” Yana states.
To my surprise Max blushes deeply at Yana’s firm tone, and I try to hide my laughter. It’s not often I see a woman making Max blush. Though, that probably has more to do with his fear of her.
“Alright,” Max says with a cough. “It’s excellent. What else you got?”
I nibble my lower lip for a minute. I really want more time to work on my other piece, but I know Max and if he wants eight, he won’t settle for less. So I walk over and remove the tarp from my blue marble piece, and brace for criticism.
Only it doesn’t come.
“Oh, Annika, honey,” Max breathes, walking up to the half-finished blue marble and gold veined piece. “I love this.”
I raise a brow in surprise as Max stares up at six-foot, six inch sculpture. I’ve only gotten about halfway through carving my man out from the stone, but there are clear ridges of muscles, veined forearms, and a corded neck.
“I can try to have it finished by next week,” I reply, “But it’s cutting it close.”
“No,” Max says, shaking his head. “Polish up the muscles and such, whatever you have carved out. But leave the rest in the stone. This piece speaksveryloudly. A man caught between two worlds. I can make you $300k off of thiseasy.”
