28. Harper
28
I must have gotten a total of three hours of sleep last night. Packing for an unknown number of days or weeks was no simple task.
Frankie and I met in his office for two hours on Friday morning. He’d taken the liberty of drafting up a contract for our management agreement and provided me with a list of newspapers, magazines, and other agencies to which we would routinely submit my work.
We would use miniature versions of it with watermarks, some standard sketches that could be used day to day, and others would be event-specific that we would start with high bids for. Those would need to be quick—Frankie stressed “day-after-event” kind of quick.
It was a one-page agreement and very straightforward and I knew Frankie always had my best interest at heart, but I told him I’d take time to look it over for when my head was clear.
“Harper, I am speechless. This is—this is better than I imagined. Better than anything anyone is expecting.”
I smiled, proud of not only my art, but of the subject. “Thanks. Let me know what comes out of it.” I wasn’t going to hold my breath, but I wanted this for Troy. Some positive way to send him off.
I hadn’t officially started healing yet. I still had a lot of anger that would take weeks to work through, but I didn’t hate him. He’d clearly been handed the lower end of the stick when it came to talents and that was unfair.
Nicole grabbed me the second I emerged from Frankie’s office and called for an early lunch for us to catch up.
“When do you leave?”
“My flight is tomorrow afternoon.”
“I’ll take you.” Nic drew my hands into hers. “I’m so excited for you. This is going to be…it’s going to be perfect. It’s exactly what you need. I hope. “Oh God, what if you hate it?”
I laughed. “How could I hate it? It’s a mental health retreat. I have a one-way plane ticket to this island in the Bahamas and we won’t have too much phone or internet access during the day, but once I get back to my room, I’ll text, send you pictures...” I handed her the postcard showing where I would be.
The description fit me perfectly.
Time to Rest, Revitalize and Sink Back into You.
This retreat is about listening to what your heart and soul truly crave and then giving yourself the opportunity to explore it, without stress.
“That’s amazing. You’re not going to want to come back.”
“I don’t know…all vegan diet, daily yoga? I might come running back on day three.”
I woke up Saturday morning after a long night’s sleep refreshed and excited. Already feeling the effects of my retreat, even though I had last minute items to pack, two flights and two orientation hours ahead of me.
Frankie had already left me three voicemails, each time promising it was the only call I’d get today.
His phone was blowing up, apparently. Out of the ten submissions of Troy Hartman’s ‘farewell sketch’, which is what I’d called it, I received four offers to pay outright and six offering a full-time position with their firm.
Those were immediately turned down, but he sent me the four offers to consider.
All ranging between ten to fifteen thousand. I ended up picking the second to highest bidder since they were the only ones offering front page.
It felt good turning down The Bridge Lineup. Even if they were the highest bidder.
“Maybe next time, guys…”
I packed a medium sized roller suitcase with summer clothes, my sketchbook, and passport. All other necessary items would be provided, including comfortable shoes, toiletries and I added the skincare package to my reservation.
This getaway certainly wasn’t cheap but the check I got for that first sketch of August, or rather as the media believed, ‘Troy Hartman’, covered it plenty.
I didn’t need anything else.
I didn’t need anyone else.
“Hopefully we won’t hit traffic, I need to get there and back for my second job. Not all of us have a side hustle that pays for a couple weeks retreat in the island of the Bahamas.”
“You’ll have plenty of time. And it’s only eight days. If I don’t die from no red meat for a week, I’ll stay longer.” I shrugged. “I’ve pre-paid my rent and all my bills for the next month, so I can go stress-free.”
“And it’s all women at this thing?” Nic asked.
“ Mostly women.”
“Not my cup of tea.”
“Oh, we’ll be having a lot of herbal tea, and grains and pomegranates.”
“So you’ll be even thinner than you are now, fabulous. When is the drawing being published?”
“Monday. Keep a look out for it, and text me a copy. I won’t have my phone all day, only checking it at night, it’s part of the experience.”
“Beautiful.” She rolled her eyes.
On the way to the airport, something was tugging at me and I couldn’t place it. My chest ached.
“Wait. Can you get off the next exit?”
She glanced at her watch. “Um, okay.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t leave without seeing him, clear the air.”
She sighed but got me there anyway.
Nicole dropped me off and I took my suitcase with me since she didn’t have time to wait.
“You sure you’ll be okay to get to LaGuardia airport on time?"
“Yes. I’ll call an Uber.” I rolled my eyes, I couldn’t imagine this taking long, but it would make me feel better if he knew I didn’t hate him. I wasn’t going to start my new journey with regrets—at least not the ones I could help.
She released a breath. “Good luck.”
I winked to reassure her before she drove off.
Finally upstairs after clearing building security, I knocked on his door.
“Hey gorgeous.” He smiled brightly from his hospital bed.
“Too late for flattery, Hartman.” I smiled back and parked my suitcase by the visitor chair.
“How are you feeling?” I looked at Troy’s mostly bandaged body, laying slightly upright. He had one working arm that moved to flip off the television. “Looks like it hurts.”
“My pride more than anything else. I suppose you know I’m stepping down.”
I nodded. I knew very well. I based my revised sketch on it. But he didn’t need to know that yet. “I think it’s wise. You’ll be back strong next year.”
“Hopefully one year is all it takes.” He eyed my suitcase. “Another Hartman drive you out of town again?”
“That was unnecessary, Troy.”
“Sorry. But you just got here, Harp. Where you going?”
I didn’t answer his question. “I’ll be back. I’m not sure when, but I love the city—I’ll be back.”
“August told you that the reason I asked you out was to spite him?”
My brows jumped. “He did not, but thanks for that.”
He adjusted painfully to sit up. “You know I don’t read much unless someone tells me it’s about me. But I’ve been looking for those sketches I saw you working on at the beach house...I guess I kind of ruined that one for you, huh?”
“No. You might still see a version of it somewhere.”
He nodded understandingly. “I’m guessing not as glorifying as the original?”
I laughed. “Paranoid much?”
“No. Use it. Use me. Get your work out there even if it’s to scold my name. I deserve worse.” He coughed and winced in pain at his side. “Fuck, that hurt.”
I scrunched my nose. “Can I get you something?”
“Yes.” He groaned and reached for his phone. “Take a selfie with me.”
“Pretty sure there are more important things you should be doing.”
“This is important.” He put his arm around my waist and pulled me slowly against his shoulder. I leaned in, careful not to put weight on him.
He snapped the photo and flipped back to admire it. Then hit the share button to his Instagram.
I frowned. “You don’t have any girls on your social media.” Troy’s page consisted of photos of himself, his car, clips from the game, and all things Troy.
He had half a million followers, with most of the comments from half the cheerleader squad from high school, including Gina Malone. It was how I found out he was going to be at Finnegan's that night of the season opener.
He shrugged. “You’re not just any girl, Harper. I won’t mention your name, but those who this is meant for will recognize you in a hot second.”
“Hmm…Like Gina Malone?”
Adding all his hashtags, he pointed a finger at me and clicked his tongue against his teeth.
I laughed. “Thanks, but you might have just started a war for me.”
“You’ll win. This is going to drive her mad. Ninety percent of our senior class is following me. You and August are like the only two who aren’t—losers.”
I laughed and smacked his shoulder, peering over it to see the finished post.
“Careful. We’re not the ones in a hospital bed right now.” His deep voice came from the door.
The smile on my face fell instantly and I looked up to find the softest set of green eyes holding mine.
Must be the contact lenses.
My stomach twisted and I looked away—back at Troy with a friendly smile. “Thanks for that. Bye, Troy. Good luck out there.”
August eyed my suitcase. “Going somewhere?”
I released a breath with a nod, glad that I had the chance to leave them both with a happier memory. “I am.” I offered one friendly smile toward the brothers and walked out.
It wasn’t until I got to the lobby to try and call an Uber that I realized I’d left my phone in Nic’s car and there was no time to get it back before my flight.
"Excuse me," I asked the reception desk. "Do you have a car service?"