“Jamie!” comes a voice from down the hall. Dani runs toward me as I’m setting her coffee on the desk. It doesn’t matter what time of day, Dani is always a firecracker.
She has her curly blue and purple hair pulled into her standard bun, and her bright makeup matches the crazy patterns on her clothes. I’m convinced she was single-handedly doing her best to revive retro neon fashion trends. A giant pink bubble pops as she jumps on me, wrapping me in a big hug. Even on the darkest days, Dani could be a beam of sunlight reminding me to keep my head up.
When she finally lets go, I reach into my satchel and hand her a small box wrapped with a cute pink bow. The unmistakable warm, buttery smell wafts up and makes my stomach growl. It’s more than I could afford at the moment, but seeing someone else’s joy—especially Dani’s—is worth it.
“Ahh! Oh my god, you are the best!” She unwraps the box like it’s Christmas, tossing the bow aside and pulling out the pastry. She pouts when I decline a taste before she’s diving in, melting with euphoria. “Oh, holy fuck. I missed you.”
“Yeah, you missed the pastries more, but who could blame you? Those things are pretty damn amazing.” We’d been on a date once a few years ago and quickly realized we make much better friends than partners. We haven’t seen each other much in the last few months, but she’s one of those friendships that picks up right where we left off each time.
“Boo! Seriously though, how are you doing? Still going through the mopey phase?”
I shrug. “I’m pretty sure that’s my standard personality, Dani. Sorry.” I guess I should accept it now since brooding artist mode is very on-brand for me. “Is Sammy in?”
“He’s on a call with some big client he’s trying to scoop up before Strax gets their hooks in them. But it’s fine. I know exactly who needs the prints.” She takes my hand, pulling me toward the large double doors.
I’ve never been to this department before, but I’ve seen it from the window in Sam’s office. The room is enormous, like an open warehouse with no floors above it. Four floors of offices line one side, all with large windows looking out over the pit of designers. Giant skylights soak the cubicles with California sunshine, trying hard to make it cheerful instead of corporate. Neon lights and garish colors decorate the walls along with motivational posters covered in phrases like ‘The Future is Yours to Create’. It’s suffocating—like a zoo for artists. Soulless artists.
All the necessary evils of making a life as a creative in the business realm—squashing any natural talent to turn people into production machines. I’m bombarded by everything I hate, which is about to become exactly what I am—a soulless artist.
I have been fighting hard against joining this kind of place, and now I’m destined to fall victim to the corporate 9-to-5 world out of necessity. I can’t imagine there’s much comfort in knowing these people pay their bills on time and have full refrigerators. A full-service coffee bar in the back of the room and a pool table certainly seem like perks to selling your soul. But I want to make something that matters. These people settle for making things that bring paychecks. I don’t blame them or think any less of them; I just never wanted to be one of them. No one does until they have to.
“So that project is one of Lexi’s. You’ve met her. Right? She’s been with us for like ever. Cute, funky hair, kind of cheerful goth vibe to her.” She turns and must recognize the blank stare on my face. Her jaw drops open, and she clutches imaginary pearls. “Seriously? Fuck, I swore you met her at a party.”
“I don’t really get to talk with your creatives much. Most of the time, it’s Sam and I with the occasional person or two from sales joining us.” I scratch the back of my neck. It’s obvious what’s coming next if this Lexi person is single. With any luck, she’s blissfully married with ten kids. “And I haven’t been out with you in a while.”
“I hope she’s here. You’ll love her! She’s one of our best and so much fun and?—”
Although I try to hide the sour expression, she catches it. She knows me too well. Her shoulders sag as her face turns sympathetic before she blows another bubble.
“I still don’t need a matchmaker, Dani. I’m good.”
“Whatever. At least meet her before you shoot her down, big guy. She could be your soulmate, or she could be a really cool person you add to your list of cool ass people to hang out with. Like me.” She spins around and bounces toward the back. I wish I had her energy and her outlook on life.
While walking by display mockups and product samples hanging from the walls of each cubicle, I can’t avoid noticing a mixture of personal touches added in for fun. The company works on everything from pet products to luxury vehicles, and Sam has a silver tongue for selling their services to anyone and everyone. How else could he afford to have ten designers on staff, a giant building in LA, and a handful of other creative types waiting by the phone for freelance work? He’s smart enough to say no, where other companies brag they don’t know the meaning of the word.
“Shit, that’s a lot of toys. I’m guessing someone’s really into pop vinyl figures,” I mumble. It shouldn’t surprise me when it’s the cubicle Dani stops at, tossing the prints down on the desk. I already considered a thousand ways to get out of the conversation that Dani would inevitably drag me into trying to set us up. But looking around at the toys and comic book artwork, I realize I’m a little curious.
“Woah, is that?—”
“A signed Captain America shield from the set? Yes, it is. Someday, ask her about it and you’ll get a dissertation on superhero movies, casting, and how long it took her to save for this thing. She waited to get Chase Cooper’s autograph for four hours. Four! He’s not even the lead!”
“Did you not tell her you have connections, or was this before she worked here?”
“She was new! She still doesn’t know, because it’s weird, okay? Saying shit like ‘the guy I dated one time used to be roommates with the guy you think is fucking amazing in movies’ is crazy.”
“Dani, you and Coop have gone out drinking together on more than one occasion. He’s your friend. You’ve been to his house, for fuck’s sake.”
“Fine, well, you luck out for now since she’s not here.” Dani taps her watch, and the voice of Mickey Mouse informs us the time is a few minutes past two. “Fuck. I guess she’s still on break. Next time, Jamie, I am absolutely introducing you to her. She’s really sweet.”
“It’s probably better for her that you don’t.” I pull my phone out and hand it to her. “I got the response about the art grant this morning.”
“What? That was fast! Why don’t you seem happy about it? They didn’t say noagain, did they?” She takes the phone, and another pout forms as she reads it. She looks up at me and wraps me in another hug. “I’ll talk to Sam. There’s got to be a couple of jobs we can throw your way soon to get you over the down season.”
“Hun, when the down season lasts six months, it’s time to move on. I’m okay.” She doesn’t look like she believes me. “The house is almost paid off and the guy who owns it is working with me to keep the price down, I have options. If I keep helping with his odd jobs around the other properties, he’ll knock the rest due down even more. It’s still going to take a while to get it fully paid off, but once that’s done, I’m considering leaving California.”
“You’re going to finish fixing the house so you can buy it back, and after that, you’ll leave? Where are you going?” Dani sucks in a breath, and her eyes grow wide in fear. “Not your mom’s, right? You can’t do that, Jamie! You’re a brilliant photographer. You hit a rough patch, that’s all.”
“The offer isn’t off the table. In fact, it’s still sitting on my dresser, unopened. It doesn’t matter, though. It’s not like she’d welcome me with open arms or anything.” I shrug and shove my hands in my pockets. “I want to try to keep the house, but I need a better job for that. Maybe I could rent it out and move somewhere cheaper. A place I can pick up more stable work.”
