Alarm bells clanged in Kat’s head. She clutched the phone as her hands went clammy. Matt’s words sent a wave of terror over her. “What are you talking about?” She stretched up and glanced around the office to make sure no one was within earshot.
“I…uh…” He stopped and cleared his throat. “Pete wanted me to tell you he moved someone else into the April spot. Guess it’s the only time available.”
“Available?!” Kat screeched, shooting up from the chair. “It’snotavailable.” No. No, no,no. This could not be happening. Her stomach churned.
“I’m really sorry. Pete said there’s no room to reschedule.”
Kat squeezed her eyes shut and fought to keep from throwing up or passing out. Tears spilled down her cheeks. He may as well have punched her in the gut.
“Matt, I have a contract.”
“You’ll have to take that up with Pete.”
“Right.” She could hardly breathe as she sank into the chair again. Her trembling legs wouldn’t support her much longer. Matt was just the messenger.
Pete was the boss—and a first-class son of a bitch. All the time and money she’d put into those paintings. She’d worked within his timeframe, did everything he’d asked for, held up her end of thebusiness deal. But she hadn’t gone to his apartment. Hadn’t gone to bed with him. Now he was yanking the show away.Hershow. That snake.
And he’d waited to tell her after the finished paintings arrived at the gallery—after he knew she had everything ready. She suspected he wasn’t a great person, but to be so unprofessional, so…
“Listen, Kat, we’re going to need you to pick up your pieces this week.”
She sat in stunned silence for a moment. “I…but that’s…” She swallowed hard. “Sure,” she managed. Sheer willpower kept her voice from wavering. “I’ll try to get them in the next couple of days.” She screamed inside. She’d just paid to get everything delivered to the gallery. Where was she going to store a dozen framed paintings? They’d have to go to the studio, but they’d be in everyone’s way.
“What about the postcards, Matt? Is this why he decided not to print them?”
“I couldn’t tell you, Kat.”
Kat fumed. Pete wasn’t out a dime. She’d sent the materials, but he’d never sent the finished layout to the printer. The story about going digital was total bull. He’d deliberately strung her along.
Through gritted teeth, Kat thanked Matt then slammed the phone onto the work surface. Bitter disappointment swelled like a thick cloud of smoke. Clenching her fists, she released a silent downpour of tears and rocked back and forth.
Long minutes later, she pressed a tissue to her face. She couldn’t let anyone see her like this. How could she get to the ladies’ room or the break room without being seen?The. Break. Room. She had to get in there and get those flyers before anyone else saw them. But she couldn’t retrieve the emails. They’d gone to…everyone. Oh, how humiliating.
Sniffling and swiping at her eyes, she fumbled at her computer and logged into her personal website. She took a screenshot, then, as fresh tears flowed, hit the edit button and deleted all the information about the Loft show. In the blink of an eye—all gone.
She logged out with a heavy, sick feeling enveloping her. No way could she work the rest of the afternoon.
After leaving a message with Amy’s assistant, Kat grabbed her purse and put on her jacket and sunglasses. If she acted like she was rushed, maybe no one would stop her. Maybe no one would notice her swollen, red nose. A few people, maybe the clean-up crew, were still in the breakroom. Avoiding eye contact, she yanked up the flyers and stuffed them into her bag. Then she bolted for the door.
Kat arrived home in a fog with no memory of the journey. She dropped her things and sank onto the sofa, resting her head in her hands. There was no tea, no balm, nothing that could soothe the ache and anger churning inside her. Shaking with rage, she wound up like a baseball player and hurtled a pillow across the room. Finally, she flung herself down on the sofa clutching the other throw pillow to her chest. Now what? She’d told her family and friends and colleagues. How could she ever give the news to Nana? It would break her heart.
Over and over, Kat had imagined welcoming her guests at the opening reception. And she’d bought the fancy cream dress. She let out a choked sob, swiping at the tears. It wasn’t fair.It wasn’t right.
For the next hour, she replayed in her mind every encounter with that low-life Pete. Bile rose in her throat when she thought of his advances. What would she tell Nick when he called? She couldn’t lie, but to admit she’d been strung along in such a classically humiliating way? Her face burned.
She didn’t know how long she’d sat staring into space when her head began pounding. With a weary groan, she pushed off from the sofa and plodded to the kitchen. She opened the bottle of extra-strength headache pills, filled a glass with water, and barely choked down two tablets. Working was out of the question. She thought about calling Nick or Mia but couldn’t bring herself to announce the news to anyone. Instead, she wrapped herself in Nana’s tapestry shawl and stewed in misery.
When she couldn’t stand it any longer, she yanked up her phone and punched in Nick’s number for face chat.
In just seconds, his face came to life on her screen.
“Nick.” She breathed his name softly, her voice thick with tears lurking just under the surface.
“Kat? What’s the matter?”
Oh no. She saw shelves of pottery behind him and remembered he was taking a shift in the shop today. She should’ve waited.
“Babe, you okay? What’s going on?”
