Chapter 10
Chapter
Ten
The Calgary Herald lay spread on the coffee table between us, my stupid face squinched and laughing, and Logan’s grin making it look like we’re hopelessly devoted.
“Start talking.” Maddie tapped the paper.
I pressed my hands into my thighs until my fingers went white. “Do you remember how Logan mentioned Norman Marcus at the grocery store? When we were checking out?”
Maddie looked skeptical. She didn’t know the name, so it probably hadn’t stuck.
“He’s high up in the art world here, like everyone knows him, and Logan’s family has a connection. Did you know his mom is an artist? Professional artist. She has her work in galleries all over Alberta.”
“I don’t see how this has to do with you making out—”
“We weren’t making out! I promise! Logan followed up after we went shopping, and he offered to introduce me to Mr. Marcus.
” This is where the story became more difficult to tell.
But Maddie had the most damning piece of evidence in front of her, so there was no point holding back.
“He offered me a job, which is huge because it could lead to an entry-level gallery position. That’s all I’ve ever wanted—”
“I thought you were going to go get your master's?” Her face softened the tiniest bit.
“I said that because I didn’t think it was possible for me to get an in at a gallery, but I don’t want to do more school.”
Maddie nodded. “Yeah. I was surprised you were planning to do another two years.”
It wasn’t a dig, just the truth. I endlessly complained about homework, especially group projects, which was exactly what a master’s would look like.
Maddie should know. “Exactly. But I didn’t realize that the only reason Mr. Marcus was offering me the position was because .
. . he thought Logan and I were together. ”
“Why would he think that?”
I sank into the couch, blowing out a breath. “We have no idea.”
“We?”
“Logan and I. I signed the contract because it seemed like if I walked out of that room, the opportunity would never come again, but it locked us in to attending these press events, and it turns out that Logan’s super lonely—”
“Okay, but that’s his fault!”
“No, I know, but then I found out his mom may have been the one to insinuate that we were dating when she set up the appointment for me because she thinks Logan’s a man-whore—”
“Which he is.”
I bristled at that comment. “I don’t know, Maddie. I think . . .” I shook my head, not sure how to say it.
“You think what?” Maddie’s face frowned in disgust.
We were supposed to hate Logan Kemp, and I didn’t want to break the girlfriend code, but Logan’s explanations made sense.
I folded my arms, giving myself a preemptive hug in preparation for what I had to say next.
“I think people do things because they think it’s the only way to get what they want, even if it isn’t always right. ”
“So you’re justifying what he did?”
I squeezed my eyes shut. “No. I’m saying I’m almost as bad.”
“Crystal—”
“I signed the contract, agreeing to the press appearances without telling him, Maddie. I pretended Norman was right, that Logan and I were together because I didn’t want to lose the job.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“No, but it’s close! Logan was under pressure with his coach and his team, he thought he had to be Mr. Cool to get good recommendations to agents and teams. So yeah, what he did was crappy, but I don’t know. I understand a little of why he did it.”
Maddie considered for a moment. “So you told Logan?”
I nodded. “He said it was a perfect setup. I guess he has some PR clause in his contract because of all the shenanigans in the spring.”
“Oh, yeah, those Blizzard players?”
I nodded again. “We think his mom is trying to keep his image pure or something. Make it seem like he’s got a hometown girlfriend, and Norman is doing some exhibit with hockey.
I don’t understand why it’s so important to have Blizzard players at the events, but he’s making it a huge priority.
I told Logan I wasn’t going to do photos.
I didn’t want to make this a big thing. I thought I could just do my time and pretend I was with him until the press walk through, then we could break up and I could move on with a position at the gallery, but I don’t think Norman Marcus cares about me.
He wants Logan and he thought I was the way to get him—”
“Uh, I think he cares.” Maddie pulled the paper toward her, searched for something in the text, and when she found it, held it out for me to read.
The upcoming Marcus Arts Foundation Gallery took another step toward reality this week as founder Norman Marcus announced an ambitious bid for a provincial matching grant from Alberta’s Arts and Culture Fund.
To strengthen the application, Marcus has begun a formal partnership with Douglas University, citing the need for “emergent voices” and “meaningful student involvement” in the province’s cultural future.
“The government wants proof that the next generation is engaged,” Marcus said during a brief walk-through of the converted warehouse space.
“That’s why artists like Douglas student Crystal MacMillan are essential.
She represents exactly what Alberta’s art community can become—fresh, earnest, and rooted in the city’s future. ”
After last year’s funding cuts, the province has emphasized “student-centred initiatives” in awarding grants—something Marcus appears more than ready to capitalize on…
The newspaper crinkled in my hand. What the hell? Norman was using me as proof that he was “student-centric” to get a provincial grant? I was essential?
I dropped the paper to the table. “Do you know what I did on my first day?” I turned to Maddie, my chest on fire. “I broke down boxes. I’ve had absolutely zero to do with anything related to art or ‘the province’s cultural future.’”
Maddie took the paper from me before I crumpled it up and tossed it on the floor. “So. Norman Marcus is an asshat.”
It seemed that way. I guess this is what they meant by “don’t meet your heroes?” But the fact remained that he was also a very powerful and well-connected asshat.
“And what about the picture?” Maddie asked.
I groaned and pinched the bridge of my nose. “We were having a box fight.”
“What?”
“A box fight. Like throwing boxes at each other. It sounds idiotic, but he scared the hell out of me and I fell, and . . . I have no idea how they got this photo, but I wasn’t making out with him. I wasn’t anything with him. We’re just—” I slumped over my knees. “I don’t know what we are. Allies?”
Maddie’s expression was more thoughtful than disgruntled, but there was still judgment there. I deserved it.
“I don’t know why you didn’t say something.” Maddie swept a loose curl from her cheek.
“Really?” I gave her a look, and she cracked a smile.
“Okay, I get why you didn’t tell Shar, but why didn’t you tell me?”
That was a fair question. “I don’t know.” And that was a lie. But how could I tell her that since she’d gotten together with Chase, our relationship hadn’t felt the same? Without sounding like a petty, jealous friend? Which I definitely was at least some of the time.
Thankfully, I didn’t have to elaborate. Saved by the phone ringing.
I jumped up from the couch. “Sorry, I’ll be right back.” I slid into the kitchen and grabbed the phone. “Hello?”
“Hey, Crystal?” Rob’s voice. He sounded frantic.
My heart jumped into my throat. “What’s wrong?”
“Who is it?” Maddie appeared next to me.
I gripped the phone tighter. “Rob—?”
“Shar’s in labour. We’re at the hospital. They have her in a room, I don’t know. She’s in a lot of pain, but they won’t let me go back—”
“Which hospital?” I scrambled for my notepad. Maddie handed me the pen I knocked across the countertop.
Rob stuttered through the name, and I’d barely hung up when Maddie grabbed my arm. “C’mon. I’m driving.”