AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Well, I guess there was another gallery there? Like a really big one? And they offered me a job.”
“They offered you a job doing what?”
“Being a gallery person!” she laughs. “Just like you did, JoJo. They said I was a natural… just like you did!”
“Well, I guess they know talent when they see it,” I answer hopelessly, realizing what has happened here.
Dusty is gorgeous, truly. She knows almost nothing about art, but she is a compelling salesperson. She can learn the art. The beauty comes naturally.
“But, Dusty, I need you,” I explain in a rush. “I mean… I can’t run the gallery without you. Not from here.”
“You said you wouldn’t be mad!” she squeaks.
I didn’t say that, I answer silently. I never promised I wouldn’t be mad!
“You know what… I’m sure you’ll be great,” I force myself to say, though it comes out as more of a growl. “When will your last day be?”
“Oh, I left the keys with your mom, is that okay?”
“What?” I gulp. “Dusty… you’re just leaving? You’re just going? Who’s going to be there?”
“That’s why I called,” she says simply, her answer a verbal shrug. “I mean, the gallery isn’t even open until Thursday. Like, can you do it?”
My head spins. I feel like I’m going to be sick. Literally… I feel like I’m going to be sick.
“So… I gotta go,” she says, her voice brightening. “Thanks again for the opportunity, JoJo. You really changed my life! I’m super grateful!”
I just stand
there dumbfounded as the line goes dead, then let my hand fall to my side. I can hear voices in the shipping area and head back that way, careful to avoid Martha’s eyeline through her office door window. She thought I would solve the situation, and I do not have a clue.
“Hey, Didi? Can you…oh. Hi, Desi,” I smile wanly. “I thought I heard Didi back here.”
Desi raises her hands and turns in a half circle, pantomiming searching for Didi in the empty room.
“Yeah, ha ha,” I say, unwilling to have this discussion yet again. “You know what, I think I’ll just go check on her. Drag her butt in here.”
Desi raises her eyebrows, which she has plucked into two thin parenthetical shapes.
“That’s the smartest thing I’ve heard you say,” she smirks, looking away.
Didi doesn’t answer the buzzer, even though I lean on it for what seems like forever. After a while, one of the other tenants comes out, casting me a glaring look as she storms through the door.
“You’re Didi’s friend, right?” she snarls at me. “Don’t you have a key? What the hell!”
Startled, I just slip through the door without responding and head for the elevators. I don’t have a key to the front door, but it didn’t sound like she really wanted me to explain that to her.
Didi lives in one of these cool former factories with a freight elevator and astronomical utility bills. Leaky windows. A truly awful bathroom.
But the views are fantastic, and she is taking over the lease for some securities trader who had to disappear to Singapore suddenly and more or less forever.
So it’s really cool, pretty affordable, and close to the gallery. Perfect. Sometimes I’m a little jealous, even.
Banging on her door with the heel of my hand, I listen carefully for signs of life. When we first got to New York, we actually lived together. That lasted for a year or so before she found three or seven or twelve boyfriends. It was annoying.
“Didi! I’m coming in!” I finally announce. Fishing for the key in my handbag, I undo the deadbolt and let myself in, then immediately wish I hadn’t.
The apartment is trashed. Literally, there are piles of garbage everywhere.
