Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
K at shoved cash at the cabbie and nearly leapt out of the car. Thanks to her boss’s over-zealous list of tasks to get started on, Kat was running late for the unexpected dinner invitation with Pete, owner of Loft Gallery. Of all days.
She glanced up at the restaurant entrance.
Lights twinkled around the over-sized green door.
She’d heard of Turner’s but had never been here.
She’d expected to meet Pete at the gallery but took the dinner suggestion as a good sign.
A casual conversation with a glass of wine in hand was preferable to a stiff office meeting any day.
Plus, it put them in neutral territory. They were nowhere close to peers, but maybe she’d feel less of a wannabe outside the gallery. Inside, Kat found Pete had already secured a table. She hurried forward, hoping he wasn’t annoyed.
Pete stood. “There she is, my newest up-and-coming star.”
She gave a breathless laugh. “Sorry I’m late. Big new project starting at the museum.”
“You’re good. I ordered prosecco. That work?”
“Oh, sure. That’s great.” Celebratory. She nearly pinched herself to keep from squealing.
This was really happening. After three years of networking, pounding the pavement, and volunteering in the arts community, she had a show.
Her work on display in a SoHo gallery. Her dream.
A game-changer—one that could give her career a substantial boost.
A moment later, a server appeared with an ice bucket and poured two glasses of the bubbly. Pete lifted his glass toward her. “Cheers to our joint venture.”
Heart hammering, Kat picked up her glass and tapped his. She took a sip then the words rushed out. “Oh, my gosh, Pete. Thank you so much. I can’t tell you how thrilled I am. And how much I appreciate the opportunity. I know you have so many talented–”
Pete put up a hand to stop her. “It’s not a favor, Kat. It’s something you earn.”
His words sent another tremor of excitement shooting through her. Ha! Kat had earned the show and recognition in the New York City arts scene. She wished her mother could hear this. Would she finally believe?
Pete reached out and grazed a thumb across Kat’s hand.
“It’s a team effort, you know. It’s business.
You schmooze everyone you can think of, get people to the show, and it’s a win for both of us.
I’ll do my share of advertising and promotion, and I get credit for finding the newest talent in N-Y-C. Right?”
Kat offered another shaky smile. Keep it together, she told herself. No gushing. No fan-girl shrieking. She drew in a deep breath and lifted her glass again. “To a successful business venture.”
“Marketing is a huge part of this.” Pete leaned forward. “You’ll get postcards and links to the website, and you need to circulate those anywhere and everywhere.”
“Of course.” She’d plaster them all over the museum. She’d leave a postcard on the subways and at every coffee shop in the metro. If she had her way, they’d be raining down like confetti all over the city.
Their server returned and they ordered dinner, then Pete launched into the details of running a show.
Kat tried to listen, willed herself to concentrate, but how could she?
This was the most exciting thing to happen to her since she won the juried art show at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago as an undergrad.
She wanted to jump up and down, twirl around the restaurant.
When dinner arrived, she forced herself to settle down and chew properly. Choking wouldn’t make the best impression.
But then Pete took a piece of paper from his pocket and pushed it across the table. “These are the ones I selected. Come by the gallery and talk to Matt about framing. And you can pick up the others.”
She took a quick glance at the paper. Twelve.
Her heart soared. He’d chosen most of her favorites.
That left five or six. Plus, she had a few she didn’t submit, which meant she could send a few to Nick.
But a co-op in the Springs? That was a far cry from a gallery in New York City.
Would it de-value her work? She’d have to give it more thought.
“I’ll get right on the framing,” she told Pete. “How late is Matt usually there?” Not the greatest time to be working late at MoMA every night.
“Depends. You might want to call ahead. And get him your bio and headshot.”
“Sure, I–”
“Dessert tonight, folks?” Their server interrupted.
Pete’s brows rose in question.
“None for me, thanks.”
Pete shook his head, and the server picked up their dishes. “I’ll be right back with the check.”
Ugh, the part Kat wasn’t sure about. Should she offer to pick up the tab? What was the correct protocol? She should’ve asked around, but the dinner had been a late—
“Nightcap?”
What? Kat blinked, not sure she’d heard correctly. “I, um, what–?”
“How’s a nightcap at my place sound?” he asked again.
In her dumb silence, Pete’s brows lifted, and ice-blue eyes challenged her. All of a sudden, the friendly smile struck her as a smirk. And the question sounded like a come-on.
Oh, no . When he invited her to dinner, he’d said he liked to get to know the artists he represented.
That made sense. But now Kat’s stomach churned, and heat rose in her cheeks.
How exactly did he intend to “get to know” her?
Was that sexual undertone for real? Is that what he expected?
Is that how she was supposed to “earn” the show?
Kat gripped the stem of her glass, nerves on high alert.
She had to play this carefully. She wanted that show.
In her mind, she’d already placed her paintings hanging beneath the spotlights at Loft Images.
Pete was well-known in art circles. A big name, often quoted in the local industry.
He had connections. Kat stopped in often, and had become friends with Matt, one of Pete’s assistants, but she didn’t know Pete well.
And certainly didn’t want to know him that way.
The man was aging nicely, she acknowledged silently, but he had to be pushing fifty.
Kat took a sip of the sparkling wine to buy some time while she weighed her options.
She could make up an excuse why she couldn’t go to his place, or she could lie and say she was involved with someone.
Might put him off for now. Her other choice was to tell him in no uncertain terms that she didn’t—and wouldn’t—operate that way. And risk the show.
She moistened her lips and attempted a genuine smile.
“I appreciate you taking the time to have dinner tonight, Pete, and I’ll do everything I can to help make the show a success.
Your confidence and support mean a lot to me, and I hope we can have a strong working relationship.
I don’t want to do anything to mess that up.
So…so, I think it’s best if I head on home now. ”
His lips thinned slightly, but he gave no other sign of being put off or angry. With a shrug, he sat up straight and reached for the bill. “Not a problem.”
Kat quickly pulled her wallet from the small wrist-clutch she carried tonight. “Oh, please, let me.”
Pete shook his head. “On me. I invited you, remember?”
Kat smiled but couldn’t help feeling more indebted to him than she liked, but of course, this would be considered a business expense. “Thank you.”
When the waiter returned with Pete’s credit card, he stood, and Kat quickly set down her glass and scrambled up.
“So come by the studio, and we’ll get the ball rolling. Also, opening event for press and special guests is the first Saturday night.”
Her heart bounced. “Sounds good,” she said, trying to sound professional even though excitement laced her words.
Outside, they went their separate ways, and Kat hailed a cab.
Sinking into the back seat, she blew out her breath and replayed the entire dinner in her mind.
The nightcap thing was a little weird, but hopefully that was the end of that.
She couldn’t contain the slow grin that spread from her lips to her toes. She was on her way.
Inside her apartment, Kat flopped onto the sofa and let out a long breath, her adrenaline high wearing off.
Winslow nuzzled against her. She took hold of his face and scratched under his chin.
“Whew. What a day,” she told him. “I suppose you lounged around all day. Quite the life you’ve got there, buddy.
” He stretched and nuzzled harder with a plaintive meow.
“Okay, okay.” She got up and opened a small tin of food. The spoiled feline had an auto feeder that delivered dry food throughout the day. This was his treat.
She heated a cup of tea for herself then dug her cell phone from her purse. She had calls to make. Before she got to Nana’s number, Kat found a missed call. From her old boss at the Denver Art Museum? That was unusual. She hadn’t heard from him in years.
Kat tapped on the screen to listen to the message.
—Hey Kat, it’s Jim at DAM. Give me a call when you get a chance. I want to talk to you about an opportunity. Remember that painting you did of the aspens in fall? We’d like to use it for our fall banners on the light posts around the museum this year. What do you think about that? Give me a call.—
Hmm. Kat remembered the painting. Bright and colorful with a graphic design look.
Would probably make a great banner. But was that how she wanted her work displayed?
She sank onto the sofa again and drummed her fingers, considering the pros and cons.
Should she run it past Pete first? Would the exposure be good overall—help her name recognition in those mysterious cyber algorithms? Something else to put on her résumé?