Mismatch - By Nana Malone Page 0,1
to open a gallery of her own, Izzy and Jason had immediately jumped in. She’d had about half the funds she needed to start, and they hadn’t even batted an eye about providing the rest. When she’d made it clear she wanted a place to support up-and-coming artists, they’d supported her. That was better than Jessica could say about her own family. Her mother had tried to be supportive, but as far as she was concerned, Jessica needed to find a rich husband and forget the whole working for herself thing.
Jessica had eventually settled on the place next to the studio and converted it into the perfect space. Now all she needed were some artists besides Izzy.
“Enough depressing chit chat. Did you make up your mind about going to see that artist your mother recommended?”
“Ugh. I don’t think so. I know she means well, but she's always calling with her, “I have the best new client for you.” Remember that performance artist she sent me who worked with poop?”
Izzy grimaced. “Yes. My nose has not forgotten. I can’t believe I let you drag me to that meeting.”
“Hell, if I was going to face the pain, so were you.”
“Yeah, thanks for that. I mean—”
The ringing phone interrupted Izzy as she put a finger on her nose. “Not it.”
Jessica narrowed her eyes. “We need to get a receptionist.”
“Then stop telling me every interviewee isn’t good enough.”
Jessica rolled her eyes as she jogged to the phone. Not an easy feat in four-inch Vivian Westwood heels. “Z Con Gallery and J. Stanton Artist Management. This is Jessica, how may I help you?”
“Jessica, this is Ryan Morgan.”
“Hey, Ryan.” Ryan was the first artist she’d landed, and he was going to be one of the focal points of her gallery.
“Hey, Jess, so about that gallery opening in a few weeks. I don’t think I can do it.”
Jessica’s brows snapped down. “What the hell do you mean you don’t think you can do it? We’ve been discussing it for months. Why is this the first time I'm hearing about it?”
“Look, I know this sucks and it’s short notice, but I’m going with Destiny Shane of Prestige Management.”
Shitballs. That stung. Ryan wasn’t the first client that had left her for Destiny. Jessica gritted her teeth. “Ryan, you know I’ve taken care of you since I found you in that gritty little hovel downtown. I’ve bent over backwards for you. Can’t you just stay on until the opening?”
“Jessica, I’m really sorry about this. You’ve been amazing to me, and I appreciate it. I just think Destiny can do more for me.”
“And I’ll bet that’s exactly what she told you.”
What the hell was she going to do? There was no way she could tell Izzy that her faith had been misplaced. She had to get another flashy client. Ryan was the last of three artists Destiny had poached from her over the last two years. It was like Jessica found them and built them, then Destiny swooped in and took the credit. “Ryan I’m disappointed. We have a contract.”
“I know. I’m sorry. The pieces you’re still contracted for, you can show, but I’m not going to create any new work for you.”
“Yeah, I get it. I’m not happy about it. But I get it.” She hung up and stared at the phone for a good long minute.
Izzy called from the other room. “Everything okay?”
No, everything was not okay. Her hands shook. What the hell was she supposed to do now? She’d poured everything she had into the gallery. Without artists, all she had was empty space. She straightened her spine. She didn’t have the time for a full-on freak out. She could indulge after she found another artist or two.
Patting an imaginary stray hair from her hot pink wig back into place, she called out, “Looks like I'm headed to see that artist after all. Feel like tagging along?”
Izzy snickered from the other room. “I love you, but no.”
***
Elijah Marks studied his quarry. The shifty little weasel had parked his Ferrari on the street with a precious artifact in the passenger seat. Amateur. People who didn’t take care of their belongings deserved to have them stolen. And Eli was just the guy to do so.
As soon as the guy strolled into the restaurant, Eli was on the move. He strode across the busy street, narrowly missing being hit by a truck. Without even looking around, Eli made quick work of the lock and was inside the Ferrari in less than