Page 33 of The Bad Boy’s Homecoming (The Southern Hart Brothers #2)
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Missy
Going to Get Good
W alking up to the large glass doors of the most prestigious art gallery in Atlanta wouldn’t have been so surreal, if she didn’t see six of her own pieces hanging on a wall in the first room. Missy was amazed at how professional they looked in new black frames, hanging against a white wall.
“Ms. Shaw, thank you for agreeing to meet with us today.” A woman in a gray suit appeared as if she was floating.
She had her dark hair pulled back into a bun and held out her dainty hand with painted black nails.
The woman had a maturity about her that hinted at her age, which Missy guessed was in her forties, but it was impossible to know for sure.
“I’m Rose Deboise. We exchanged emails.”
“Hello, thank you for inviting me to the gallery and for your interest in my work.” Missy wore the one suit she had from her mock trial days in law school, and a flowy blue blouse tucked into the high-waisted slacks.
“I’m extremely excited to talk about art with you,” Rose said and ushered her toward the wall of her work. “I see so much passion in your work.”
For the next hour they spoke about where Missy learned to paint, how she worked, and how a gallery might enhance her career. But when Rose asked her what inspired the batch of paintings the gallery had already acquired Missy didn’t talk about Levi. She didn’t want to share that with anyone.
“Well they certainly are romantic and emotional. Although you may express everything you are feeling on the canvas, you can choose to tell people anything. I will warn you, at an exhibit everyone will want to meet you and ask you what your work means to you.”
“What do your other painters say?”
“It varies. Some give every detail of every feeling they had when they created a piece of art. Others are vague and quiet,” Rose said.
Missy could see the woman had a preference, but she wasn’t sure on which end of the spectrum she sat.
“It’s important for the artist to decide, or you risk closing yourself off from your creativity. If you feel too vulnerable it could hurt your current work, so I’ll leave it all up to you. Only you can decide.”
“Okay.”
“Missy, the art world can be very cutthroat, and it is feast or famine for some artists. I recommend you speak with an artist’s agent to determine if you’re comfortable with the terms we’re offering.”
“Are you an artist?”
Rose smiled. “Yes, or I was. Now I run this gallery and surround myself with other artists. Up-and-comers, established artists, in every medium.”
“It sounds wonderful.”
Rose nodded. “Once upon a time I had my first gallery exhibit in New York. It was a huge splash. Every painting sold for large sums of money.”
“I sense a but .”
“But I barely made enough money to pay my rent, and I was under contract to produce a dozen more.”
“That’s why you’re telling me to consult an agent.”
Rose nodded. “You should never blindly trust anyone in business. And sadly, especially the art world.”
“Thank you.”
“So I’ll send you over the contract and a list of art agents you could reach out to. You’ll want an attorney to review the terms as well,” Rose said.
“How many pieces would we need for an exhibit?”
“Ideally twenty to thirty of various sizes. You’ll want a different vibe throughout the collection but also some cohesion.”
Missy could feel the trepidation rising up her spine. She didn’t know how to do that, or if she should commit to it.
“Walk with me and I’ll show you an example,” Rose said ushering her into a larger room that had high ceilings and reminded her of an art museum.
They walked through the space into two smaller rooms, and Rose was quiet. She let Missy observe the pieces done in a very different style to Missy’s work.
“I think I understand, but do I determine the flow, or do I produce as much work as possible and then you choose?”
“We can work on it together, or you can have complete control. My preference is to at least see the pieces you are on the fence about, because we can test different flows. As the curator, I would love to put a collection together, once you’re sure about specific pieces, but this is your story to tell.
Your art is your image, your brand, and it is important for you to choose. ”
Missy sucked a huge breath of air. “Okay, I better get home and get to work.”
“Is your hand okay?” Rose said, pointing to the small wrap Missy used to cover the wound on her hand.
“I accidentally burned my hand but it’s recovering, and luckily I’m right-handed.”
Rose nodded. “I’d like to aim for an exhibit in one month. Do you think you could have twenty more pieces by then?”
“Yes, whether or not you’ll find the twenty you want, and that flow is a big question mark to me.”
“We’ll aim for a month but have a contingency date in case you need more time.”
“I’ll be ready,” Missy said.
Rose smiled. “Then I’ll see you in one month.”
Missy drove out of Atlanta with her mind swirling.
And the first person she wanted to share the news with was Levi, which was so strange because she barely knew him.
He wasn’t her person. He wasn’t even her friend.
But his eyes were the ones she saw. She tucked that feeling away and when she got home, she went right to her studio and began to paint.
She painted for days nonstop, just getting all the emotions she was feeling out.
It didn’t matter if she couldn’t have Levi, because she could paint him, and what they’d shared.
And no one needed to know how foolish she’d been to fall for a man she didn’t really know.