Shit. What a brat. I never said no to her. I let her do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted to, and the first timeI put my foot down over an event I genuinely thought wouldn’t benefit the shop, she what? Throws a fit?
Looking down, I realized that I’d stopped chopping the vegetables I was prepping for dinners this week.
I sighed. None of that sounded right.
Alta wasn’t a brat, and she had been far from throwing a fit. I’m pretty sure, aside from looking very upset, no one else could even see the raging waves of emotion that was passing through her. But I had, and when I thought about it, the only plausible explanation I got from what I saw on her face was that I hurt her.
And it was killing me that I didn’t know why.
I grumbled, my eyes lowering down to the counter where my phone lay blank with no messages. It’s not like she ever texted me aside from emergencies when she was going to be late or had to reschedule at the last minute. For the most part she communicated through professional channels like emailing or simply talking to me in person.
I sighed. I guess that would have to do.
On Tuesday, I would talk to her during our regular session. I would sit her down to askwhymy refusal of her little Halloween party was so important.
Important enough to make her cry.
“Dammit,” I hissed as I read the email on my screen come Monday afternoon.
We had just passed the halfway point of the day after a heavy morning. The serial rescheduler had rescheduledyet again but their empty spot opened up room for a few walk-ins wanting simple work. Everyone hated walk-ins, and since we were a custom shop, there weren’t many we could actually take on. But occasionally people would come in wanting simple quotes or line drawings that were doable on the spot. And since I drew faster than everyone and I hated turning customers away when I could help it, I usually got stuck with them.
That, on top of a finicky consultation who couldn’t decide on a direction for their imagery and then a rough appointment with someone who couldn’t sit for shit, and I was dog tired.
Tired, but excited, because tomorrow would be a good day. One I didn’t want to admit I had started looking forward to a while ago, ever sinceshefirst walked into my shop.
And now she was playing with me.
“What is it?” Jules asked from around my shoulder. I was up front checking the emails, since I was waiting on confirmation for a big shipment of ink. Instead of a message from our ink manufacturer, I was met with this line of crap.
Mr. Harper,
I’m emailing you regarding our schedule as it stands. Currently, I have a surplus of important events on my calendar that require my immediate attention. As of last Thursday I have completed all the work outlined for Ink and Mar for the remainder of the month and will not be able to return to the shop until the new month begins. Thank you for your understanding.
Alta C. Fernandez.
Turning the screen toward Jules I asked, “She say anything about this to you?”
Leaning forward, her fluffy blonde hair poured over her shoulders as she read the screen, a small tattoo I’d done myself visible on the back of her neck. Then she shrugged up at me. “You’re thelast one who talked to her before she ran out like her ass was on fire.”
I cursed under my breath, my shoulders setting back and my head tipping toward the ceiling.The rest of the month? I’d gone and made her cry and now she wouldn’t be back for the rest of the month?
“Just fucking perfect.”
“What’s up? Not like she needs to come in every week for what she does. She just takes pictures and?—”
“She does a lot more than take pictures, Jules,” I snapped.
Jules’ back went straight, her mouth zipping shut and her eyes going wide. I didn’t lose my cool much, so I could understand her surprise. Her eyes fluttered to her hands as she mumbled, “Sorry, Gus.”
I sighed, patting her shoulder. “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pop off, I just—Just don’t ever let her hear you say that shit. She does a hell of a lot more for us than take pictures.”
And I should have probably led with that when I turned down her idea. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe in her or didn’t trust her judgment. Just, sometimes for an art guy, I had issues seeing the bigger picture when it came to business. And even though I thought of myself as even-tempered, I still sometimes fell victim to defending what was mine. What I’d worked all these years to build on my own. And I took offense to some spoiled little rich girl coming in telling me what I was doing was wrong.
That wasn’t fair either, was it?
Admittedly, everything about Alta screamed rich girl. From her always manicured nails, to her perfectly styled hair, to the subtly designereverythingshe wore on a daily basis. Her car was expensive, her equipment never lacked, and every now and then she dropped lines of conversation that were so elite coded, even I had to blink twice.
She was more than likely very well off, that much was for sure,but she never gave the impression that she relied on that wealth to prove her skill. Of course, it was her position in life that probably allowed her the freedom to pursue whatever she wanted, but it was her drive that kept her going. And her brain that made her damn good at what she did.
