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“Late rent,” I joke. “That’s my building up ahead. You’re sure you didn’t go out of your way walking me home?”
“I live four blocks west.” He jerks his thumb to the right. “We can ride the subway and walk together after every class. I get that you probably feel unsafe after that jerk stole your wallet.”
When Rufus stopped by the gallery last week to drop off his contract, he overheard me telling Bridget that I’d picked up a new phone. She mentioned the robbery and Rufus jumped into the middle of our conversation with his sage words of advice.
He showed off a few defensive moves that he told me I could use in the future if I run across the thief again. After that, he offered to walk me home after class so I wouldn’t run into any more trouble.
I accepted because I knew that I’d enjoy the company.
“I’m trying to put it in my past,” I admit as I dig in my purse for my keys. “It was one bad experience. I don’t want it to ruin my time in New York.”
“Are you here temporarily or long-term?” He stops at the steps to my building.
“I’m not sure yet.” I shrug. “I feel like this is the place for me to be if I want a career in art, but the competition is fierce.”
“You’re one of the most talented artists I’ve worked with.” He takes a seat on one of the concrete steps. “I’ve been around the block a few times in the industry and when I checked out your stuff, I was blown away.”
I settle down next to him, not sure if he’s being genuine or not, but the compliments are hitting a sweet spot inside of me. “Are you serious?”
“Dead serious.” He evens his tone. “You need to pursue this, Piper. Put everything you have into it. You’re going places.”
He’s not an expert on charcoal art, but he does offer some unique insight that I wouldn’t find anywhere else. “I’ll give myself six months since that’s how long I leased my apartment for. “
He stands. “Six months is good. I’ve been here a little more than a year and my career is finally starting to take off. We’re not shooting for the same stars, but I know the struggle to get noticed.”
That’s hard to believe, given the fact that he’s so good-looking.
I follow and slide to my feet too. “Thanks for the company on the walk and the advice.”
“That’s what friends are for.” He adjusts his backpack on his shoulder. “I’ve got an early call time tomorrow for a shoot. I’m going to take off.”
I watch him walk away. He’s a nice guy, but there’s no spark there. I can’t say the same for Griffin Kent. I almost forgot to breathe when I first saw him in my class. He may be the kind of man I don’t need right now, but he’s definitely a man I could want.
***
I use the watering can I found in the office to give each of the plants in the gallery a drink. I came in this morning to talk to Bridget about my first class. She’d sent me a text message late last night asking about it.
I was already fast asleep, so as soon as I woke, I typed out a message to her telling her I’d stop by the gallery once it opened to fill her in. She’s becoming a friend and it’s a relationship I want to nurture since my only friend to speak of at the moment is Rufus.
We shared a coffee once I got here and I told her how the class went off without a hitch. She was impressed and promised that she’d sit in on one next week.
“Piper?” she calls from where she’s standing at the back of the gallery. “I need your opinion on something.”
I finish watering the last of the plants before I walk to where she is. “What’s up?”
She gestures to an empty spot on the wall that holds her portraits. “I have to replace the one that was bought this morning. I have two to choose from. I need your expert eye to help me decide.”
I’m humbled. I nod. “I’d be honored to help with that.”
She reaches down to pick up a black square frame. She holds the back toward me so I can’t see the portrait until she flips it over near the wall. “I love this one.”
My eyes skim over the frame and the sketch inside. My breath stalls. “Bridget, that’s mine.”
She smiles as she places that one down before picking up the second frame. “I like this one too.”
I shake off the disbelief that she’s framed two of my pieces. I had left my sketchbook in her office the other day when I was working in the studio. She promised that she’d lock the door so no one would wander in and take it. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you’re happy that we’ll be selling your work in the gallery and say you’ll consider taking on a second job with me during the day.”
