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“We both did,” I argue.

Noel, Mateo, and I have been friends ever since university. We didn’t study the same major, but we just kind of started to hang out together. The three weirdos on campus. The three geeks. All three of us were obsessed with our own hobbies and bondedthrough that. It didn’t matter that we only shared one year together before Noel and I dropped out for various reasons. The connection between us remained.

Just like me, Mateo is a freelancer. He does ads for companies and solo businesses. I guess he had pity on me for sucking at advertising my art, and took it upon himself to become my manager. I’m not sure if he truly knew what he signed up for.

With two steaming mugs of coffee, I return to the table and sit down opposite Mateo. “So, what’s the issue? I bet you are not here just to chat.”

“I am not.Shades of Bluegot sold.”

“What?!” I exclaim.

“Yeah, that was my reaction too,” he grins. “It’s so you, to hit it off so quickly. First real exhibition and you sell the only artwork you have there.”

“But how?”

“You should rather ask who,” he urges.

Furrowing my brows, I stare at him. “What do you mean? Who bought it?”

Mateo leans back, looking all smug. He obviously was waiting for me to ask. Two dramatic pauses later that fucking little tease finally spills it out. “Aden Randall.”

Silence engulfs us. My brain works slowly sometimes. It’s always been like that. I can only draw well, while everything else comes to me at a slower pace. “Care to repeat that?”

Mateo smiles now, his expression not teasing anymore but joyful. “Aden Randall in person.”

At that shock, I almost drop my mug of coffee.

“That was my reaction, too, when I got the call from his assistant last night saying he wanted to buy your drawing. He already paid.” He hands me a piece of paper from his bag. “This is the contract.”

I gape while staring at the piece of paper. Mateo didn’t lie. My drawing got sold to the god of all gallerists, in person. Everyone knows that Aden Randall has a perceptive eye, a feel for art. Everything he touches turns to gold. He has made several artists over the last couple of years, helping them to rise to fame. He used to draw too until a couple of years ago, but it’s said he gets more joy in organizing his gallery and exhibitions now.

“He also mentioned that he wants to be informed whenever you draw something new and have it up for sale,” Mateo adds, killing me all over again. “He also bought your second painting, the one you deemed not good enough for the exhibition.”

“You are fucking kidding me?”

“No. So, chop-chop! Get productive and make us rich.”

“After that shock, I need to recover first,” I say.

“You are aware that this is amazing?”

“Of course! It’s insane!”

“You deserve it, Sterling,” he says seriously. “You have worked your ass off. You dropped out of Uni just to support your little sister. If anyone deserves the fruits of his labor to pay off, it’s you!”

“I have you to thank for this,” I say.

“I know,” he grins. “Which is why I hope you keep me hired.”

“Are you kidding? I need you,” I chuckle. “I could never do all that advertising and bureaucracy without you. Don’t leave me!”

“Aw,” he says gleefully. “Aren’t you cute? Pity you aren’t my type.”

“Cuteisyour type,” I grin.

“Yeah, and you aren’t. Not usually,” he smirks. “Weirdo.”

“Says the right one,” I retort.