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"Poppy," Nora whispers, her eyes wide as she leans in close. "I heard a rumor that Scott Madison might be coming tonight."
And just like a needle to a balloon, those words manage to destroy my good mood entirely.
"Scott Madison?" I sputter, my stomach lurching at the thought.
She's referring to Scott Madison - the infamous billionaire art collector. I despise men like him – completely devoid of any real passion or understanding for art. To him, it's just another commodity to be bought and sold for profit.
"Yep, that's the one," Nora confirms, watching my reaction carefully. "Word is he's been scouting a location for his next gallery, and he's got his eye on properties here."
"Scott Madison buying a gallery here? Are you fucking kidding me?" I fume, pacing back and forth on the polished concrete floor of our community gallery. My heart races as I imagine our tight-knit artist haven being infiltrated by his elitist influence.
"Poppy, it's just a rumor," Nora reminds me gently, trying to quell my anger. "But even if it is true, we'll handle it, okay?"
"Handle it?" I scoff. "How are we supposed to handle a billionaire who sees art as nothing more than another stock to trade? This place is everything to me, Nora. It's not some playground for the rich and pretentious."
"I know, Poppy," she says softly, her eyes filled with understanding. "But we can't control everything. Let's focus on tonight, okay? Your work deserves to be celebrated."
I nod reluctantly, taking a deep breath as I try to put my fears aside. Throughout the evening, I find myself glancing around nervously, half-expecting Scott to appear in a cloud of expensive cologne and arrogance. But he never materializes, and I'm almost ashamed of how relieved I feel.
"See?" Nora grins as we say our goodbyes to my parents. "No Scott Madison. Just another successful night for our community."
"Thank God," I sigh, hugging her tightly. "But I still need a drink. A strong one."
"Your wish is my command," she laughs, leading me to our favorite dive bar just around the corner.
Perched on a rickety stool in our hole-in-the-wall bar, I swirl the ice cubes in my whiskey sour and try to drown my worries about Scott Madison and his potential invasion of our art community. Nora watches me with concern, her petite frame perched next to me as she sips a fruity cocktail that matches her vibrant personality.
"Poppy," Nora starts cautiously, "maybe some changes to the art community would be good for you. Just hear me out." She sets her drink down and leans in closer. "You pour all your energy into creating your art and organizing these events. It's amazing, but it doesn't leave much room for anything else, like...dating."
I choke on my drink, feeling the burn of the whiskey hit my throat, and shoot her a look that screams 'are you serious?' "Nora, are you really trying to find an upside to Scott-freaking-Madison potentially ruining our community?"
"Okay, bad timing, I know," she admits, rolling her eyes. "But seriously, when was the last time you went on a date? Or even thought about it?"
My cheeks flush as I consider her question. The truth is, I've always loved the idea of meeting someone, settling down, and raising a family in a loving environment like the one my parents gave me. But dating within the art community I know has always felt...lacking.
"Maybe I don't want to settle down, Nora," I say, avoiding her probing gaze. "Maybe I'm happy just focusing on my work."
"Come on, Poppy," Nora scoffs, clearly not buying my lie. "You can't seriously expect me to believe you're content living like a nun for the rest of your life. You're human! You have needs!"
"Alright, Dr. Ruth," I retort, trying to change the subject. "Let's focus on the more pressing issue at hand, like protecting our community from the likes of Scott Madison."
"Fine," she concedes, taking a long sip of her drink. "But don't think you're off the hook. We're having this conversation later."
"Can't wait," I mutter sarcastically as we clink glasses.
I know Nora means well, but I can't shake the feeling that my heart is seeking something different, something beyond the confines of the men I'm used to. It's a terrifying thought, and one I'm not ready to share with her just yet.
The night air is crisp and tingles against my skin as Nora and I step out of the bar. The neon signs cast a surreal glow on our faces, making the city's artistic underbelly feel even more alive. My mind still races with thoughts of Scott Madison invading our community, but also with the lingering sense of longing for something... orsomeonedifferent.
"Ugh, this cold air feels amazing," Nora sighs dramatically, shaking her head to clear it from the alcohol buzz. "I needed that."
"Same," I say, taking a deep breath and trying to shake off my own anxieties. A street performer across the road catches my eye – a fire juggler, captivating passersby with his hypnotic performance. It reminds me why I fell in love with this district in the first place. It's raw, real, and bursting with creative energy.
"Hey, Poppy," Nora nudges me gently. "You're gonna be okay, you know? Whatever happens with Scott or anyone else, we're a strong community. We'll fight back. And hey, maybe he'll eventually get bored with it all or find something more profitable and never bother us again."
I let out a bittersweet laugh, appreciating Nora's attempt to make light of the situation. "Yeah, maybe."
As we walk through the bustling streets, my thoughts drift back to earlier when Nora brought up my nonexistent love life. It's true, I haven't really made time for dating, but it's not like I haven't tried. The guys here are all so similar to me – talented artists, but almosttoofamiliar. Where's the excitement in dating someone who's just like you?
As we part ways for the night, I can't help but feel a strange sense of anticipation. Change is in the air, and I have a feeling that whether I like it or not, my world is about to be turned upside down.
