Chapter 23
Madison
We dropped Zach off at work, and I gave him a long, passionate kiss goodbye, hopefully setting him up for a very good day at the office. I was on cloud nine, thinking about this amazing opportunity that had fallen into my lap. Everything in my life seemed to be coming together perfectly, and I couldn’t be more excited about it.
Zach had turned out to be the man that I didn’t even know I needed, always looking out for my best interests, listening to me, and never putting me in harm’s way. Any other time, getting through Lee’s show would have been miserable and heartbreaking, but not with Zach by my side. He made me realize exactly where I should be, and what I should be focusing on. Lee had the ability to have a show, no matter what art he put out, and because he owned the gallery, he could have taped a candy wrapper to a canvas and sold it. Me, I had to start out from the bottom, and though I know I had earned that right at Lee’s, he was never going to allow me to have a show. When I looked at those paintings I did on Liberty Island, I used to just think about Zach and that amazing day, but now, I can see my future painted on a canvas.
When we arrived at my loft, I skipped up the steps, feeling no sense of urgency or stress, especially with it being my day off. I did know one thing. It was going to be really hard focusing on my job with Lee now that I no longer needed the gallery to host a show for me. Instead, it was now just a normal job to pay the bills. Either way, I was pretty proud of how I set his show up, and he sold a lot of art, even if it was terrible. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my buzzing phone, looking down at the screen. Speak of the devil. It was Lee. Maybe he was calling to thank me for how well I did with his show. Yeah, fat chance.
“Hello?” I said cheerfully.
“Madison, I’ve texted you multiple times,” he said angrily.
“Oh,” I said, realizing I hadn’t checked my phone yet. “Sorry, I was out. What’s up?”
“I need you to come down to the gallery,” he said with irritation in his voice. “I need to speak with you. It’s urgent.”
“Okay,” I said, knowing it was my day off but hearing the urgency in his voice. “I’ll be there in ten.”
I grabbed my bag off the chair and walked back out of the apartment, curious but dreading the idea of walking into the gallery with Lee in one of his moods. Still, walking along feeling the fresh air on my face, I thought about my upcoming show and how excited I was to get my art out to the world and at one of the most well-known galleries in Manhattan. I made it a point to tell myself that no matter what Lee’s problem was, I wasn’t going to let him ruin this for me.
Lee was waiting for me at the door, and as I walked through, I could feel the tension in the air. I grasped my bag and stood in the front, afraid to go anywhere else. The look on Lee’s face was one I had never seen before. He was livid. No, beyond livid. He was steaming mad. He paced the floor for a few seconds, rubbing his chins before turning to me with clenched teeth.
“Who the hell do you think you are?” Lee jumped right into yelling. “You come in here, I give you a job, and then you go and break one of the very few rules that I have. Hell, that every gallery has!”
“Lee, what are you talking about?”
“You stole my God damn show, Madison,” he screamed. “And your sweet little smile doesn’t fool me. You did that shit on purpose because I told you the truth about your work.”
“Lee, calm down. I have no idea what you are talking about.” I held up my hands.
“Come with me,” he said, grabbing my arm and dragging me back to his office. He stopped at the door and made a dramatic display to usher me in.
As I walked into the room, I looked over at the chair in front of the desk. There was a middle aged blonde woman sitting in the chair. I recognized her from Lee’s show, but I had no idea what she had to do with any of this.
“Hi,” she said, standing and shaking my hand. “I’m Sarah. We spoke earlier on the phone about your work.”
I smiled and shook her hand, immediately realizing what was going on. Lee shoved past me and stormed to his desk where he stood, his hands placed in front of him. He looked up at me with fire in his eyes.
“You think you can come in here, to my gallery, and screw me over?” He turned his head to Sarah. “And you think because you own a gallery in Manhattan, you can just waltz into my studio, my gallery and steal my talent from me?”
“She had no contract with you,” Sarah said calmly, showing her dominance. “And you have no bookings with her. She is nothing more than a curator here.”
“Not anymore,” he said, laughing. “You’re fired, you bitch. You are going to regret stealing this show from me. I promise you. I am going to make you pay.”
“First of all, stop speaking to my client in that manner or I will sue you,” Sarah said, standing up and putting her purse over her shoulder. “Secondly, get off it. Your work is terrible. She didn’t steal anything from you. There isn’t a gallery in this town that would show your work. Just because some rich people don’t understand, doesn’t mean you have a lick of talent. Stop being an embarrassment to the art world.”
Before Lee could wipe the shock off his face, Sarah had turned to me and put her hand on my shoulder, motioning for the door. I walked out of the office and looked at her, my hands shaking. She smiled kindly and rubbed my arm.
“Everything is okay,” she whispered. “Let’s get your stuff and get out of here. You have a contract to review.”
I grabbed a box from the back and headed back to the office. Sarah stood at the door with her arms crossed, but Lee wasn’t coming back out. He had slammed his office door and sunk into his own self-pity party. I just wanted to get out of there and fast. When I finished packing the box Sarah and I left, jumping into her car and heading to her place in Manhattan. I sat in the front seat, clutching my box and thinking about how scary Lee could really be. He was a damn tyrant with his scare tactics and his inability to actually spot talent if it landed in his lap. All of this still didn’t make me feel comfortable about the fact that he was unstable and only a few blocks from the apartment.
Finally, we pulled up in front of the new gallery, and Sarah helped me carry my stuff inside. I had never been to this gallery, but it was in all the papers, and everyone knew that some of the most famous modern artists got their start there.
As we walked, I looked at the expansive gallery, in awe at its beautiful structure. There were several people on ladders hanging large scale water colors from the ceiling. They looked over and smiled as I passed. I wasn’t used to being in a friendly atmosphere, and all of a sudden, I felt like the abused kid. I set my stuff down on the floor outside of Sarah’s office and entered, sitting down at a large oak table. This place was definitely a lot higher scale than Lee’s gallery. Sarah sat across from me and pushed a stack of papers toward me.
“I want you to work for me,” she said, folding her hands in her lap. “And I want to sign an exclusive contract with you for multiple shows. You will work and show only with me for the next two years. How does that sound?”
I looked down at the paperwork. not believing what I was hearing. She wanted me to not only work for her, but sell my art just with her, the owner that never has a show that doesn’t sell out. I breathed deeply, remembering my classmates in college talking about this gallery and how every artist that signed with them also was mentored beside the best of the best. I shook my head and let out my breath, releasing the tensions from my shoulders.
“Yes,” I said as it felt hard to breathe. My pulse spiked, and I worked to pull myself together. Finally. Fucking finally. “Of course, this is so amazing.”
“This is a pretty simple contract,” she said, pointing at the legal words. “You will have four shows a year here at the gallery for a time period of two years. We will work together to price your work so that you make more than a healthy living off of your shows. We take a forty percent commission, pretty standard for the city. You will provide eighteen pieces for each show. Depending on size and detail, they will be priced between ten and a hundred thousand dollars. Last year, my artists all made well over a million dollars after commission for all four of their shows. When you aren’t showing, you will work for me, which provides steady weekly income. Your salary is there at the bottom, and you will have full use of our studio in the back. We reserve the right to cancel if you cannot live up to your part of the contract, but in all honesty, I’ve never canceled a contract. If you are comfortable with all that, initial each page and sign on the last page at the bottom.”
Everything was moving so fast, but I grabbed the pen and signed the deal, knowing this was a life-changing event. I handed the contract back to Sarah and smiled. She set the papers on her desk and put her arm around me. It was a dream come true.
“We’ll meet tomorrow to talk about your first show and when you will start working,” she said with a smile on her face. “It’s a good thing you left your name and number on those paintings.”
As she walked me to the door, I thought about what she said. I didn’t remember doing that, and in fact, I hadn’t ever done that before. I didn’t say a word, though, figuring maybe I had without thinking since I was stashing them at the gallery. I said goodbye and hailed a cab, pulling my phone from my pocket and dialing Zach.
“You won’t believe what happened,” I said as soon as he picked up. I fanned myself as tears filled my eyes. There was no way I was going to cry, not even tears of joy.
I went through the whole story, including how Lee flipped out and how uncomfortable I felt about it. Then I told him about the contract and how much money her artists made last year alone. Zach was thrilled and started to talk about celebration plans.
“It’s strange, though,” I said, interrupting him. “She said my name and number were on the paintings, but I don’t remember doing it.”
“It’s because I did it,” Zach said. “I wanted your work to be seen.”
“Wait,” I replied, completely shocked. “You did that, after everything I told you about Lee’s rules for not stealing a show? You do realize that isn’t just his rules. That’s every gallery’s rules. Zach, you could have completely ruined me in this town. No gallery would want to hire me if they thought I was unethical. What were you thinking? And on top of all of that, Lee is a freaking psychopath. I have bruises on my arm from today, and I live right down the street from him.”
“Madison,” Zach said with a chuckle, angering me even more. “Lee is nothing to worry about. And you got the job with Sarah anyway. Let it go. It’s nothing to concern yourself with.”
“No way, and of course he’s something to worry about. She was there and saw his insanity first hand,” I growled. “You know what, I have to go. I just need some air.”
I hung up the phone and looked out the window as we passed Lee’s gallery. Yes, I got the gig I always wanted, but Zach’s “sweet” gesture could cost me way more in the long run.