I balk as I hear the price tag. Most of my pieces sell between $15,000 and $40,000. Once I was able to get one sold for $70k. But$300,000?!
“Are- are you sure?” I ask.
“Oh yes,” he answers almost immediately. “Don’t mess with it. This will make us both a fortune. Okay. I need to get to work. My photographer and I will stop by your warehouse tomorrow to snag some professional shots of your pieces there, then we’ll swing by here to get these two.”
“Absolutely not,” Yana states, her tone sharp.
At the sound of her voice, four more bodyguards suddenly burst into my studio. The morning sickness I’m starting to experience more often now rushes up along with my anxiety, and I press a hand to my stomach, the other to my mouth.
Bud' yeshche,”Yana commands, and they all immediately lower their hands from their weapons.
“What is that? What is she saying to them?” Max asks, looking around at them warily.
I open my mouth to reply but instead of words my breakfast comes up. Yana has a bucket to my head as I surge forward, and she’s whispering calming words as she rubs my back. I groan wearily after I finish.
“This asshole needs to go,” Yana whispers to me. I nod. Our meeting is certainly over.
I slowly rise to a straightened position and take the kerchief Yana offers, wiping my mouth.
“Max,” I say, then take a steadying breath, “You’re going to have to learn to be little calmer when you come here from now on. My people are…tense right now.”
Max takes another wary look at the guards surrounding him, and nods.
“I think it’s best that we communicate through zoom and telephone until your show,” he replies. “But I need photos of these pieces.”
I nod, the action making me nauseous again, but I fight it down.
“They’re not photo ready yet. I still need to polish the red one and I see what you like about the blue piece, but it still needs some tweaks.”
“Rich people love mysteries, don’t they? List them as surprise showings. It’ll gain more attention.”
Yana’s question surprises me. I barely ever hear her speak full sentences in English. Max and I both stare at her, but it’s Max that finally nods and agrees.
“Mystery. Yes. That’s a great idea. We can do a big reveal at the show and if they don’t sell Friday they certainly will by Saturday.”
“Then it’s settled,” I say, wanting now more than ever for our meeting to be over. “Just email me if there’s anything else. Thank you for coming, Max.”
Max doesn’t need any more indication that it is time go, and grabs his satchel.
“I hope you feel better, Annika,” he says, trying to not sound scared. “I hope it’s not contagious. Should I pop a few vitamins when I get home?”
I smile as I shake my head.
“No. Not contagious,” I reply.
The guards escort Max out then, and I groan as I rest my elbows on the table and my head in my hands.
“You need to lie down,” Yana states.
I know it’s not a suggestion, and I agree. On the phone Max seemed as if he was fully on board with our new arrangement, but seeing him here, how uncomfortable he was, has me thinking otherwise. My big question to myself is, have I truly gotten used to this all? Being monitored at home. Never having a moment’s privacy. I needed to think. About all of it. And being in bed is the only place in the house I’m guaranteed that time away from everyone else.
Yana helps me upstairs and I don’t argue. Instead I let her tuck me into the covers and listen to the quiet sounds of her getting me a water and placing a bucket by the bed just in case I get sick again.
“Can I get you a change of clothes?” she asks.
“Just one of Kirill’s shirts from the hamper,” I reply.
She brings it to me then leaves, and I sluggishly push back the covers and change. I feel slightly better as I wrap the shirt around and inhale Kirill’s scent.
