Chapter Two

Monday couldn’t come any quicker as the weekend passed in a blur. I had my meeting with Taylor today at a popular cafe in the Upper East Side by 2pm and it was past 10am. I have less than 4 hours to figure out what to wear to that part of the world. Because that’s exactly what the Upper East Side was, a different would of its own. It had its own rules, its own culture and many other things us downtowners aren’t privy to.

I take a long shower trying to savor the day and prepare myself for what this meeting would hold and what it signifies- the beginning of a new era. After my shower, I wrap myself in a towel and walk to the kitchen, if I can really call it that, to make myself a cup of coffee and some toast.

My loft has its pros but most of what it truly has are cons. It’s tiny and I barely have space to have anything here. But, it was within my budget when I moved in 3 years ago and I was completely sold by the natural light.

While I nurse my coffee, my phone rings and an unknown number flashes across the screen . Warily picking up, I answer, “ hello?”

On the other side of the call, a chirpy voice says “hi, am I speaking with Vanessa Davis?”

“This is her.”

“I’m calling from Taylor Dawson’s office, reminding you of your meeting today by 2pm at Layla Cafe. Miss Taylor is looking forward to meeting you.”

“Right, thank you. I’ll be there and I look forward to meeting her too.” As if I could possibly forget about one of the most important meetings of my career, heck, of my life!

“Alright. Have a nice day, good bye!”

“You too, bye.”

Ending the call I think to myself, “that is one excited assistant.”

Finishing my breakfast, I head over to my wardrobe scanning through it with my eyes trying to find something suitable to wear to this cafe. I select a black flared skirt with tights and a green sweater, balancing the look in case the weather gets in a mood today.

Having a few hours to spare before I need to start getting dressed, I decide to pick up my new brushes and a large board. As part of the contract I signed with Radical Arts, I was going to have my first official show and I needed a minimum of 15 pieces. I thankfully had creative freedom on what I wanted this show to look like and the pieces I’d want to exhibit. Plus I already had some pieces in my archive that I never showed anyone, they always seemed so personal, maybe this might be the best time to bring them out.

This was part of the things Taylor and I had to discuss today and I was hoping we’d hit it off and be able to work together to achieve this vision.

Lost in the beginning throes of my new project, I feel a sense of calm and purpose as my strokes glide across the canvas like a conductor skilfully guiding an orchestra. Hours pass by and it’s 1pm already. I quickly get dressed and head out of my loft to the cafe.

*******************

Looking around 21st Avenue and the million cafes for Layla Cafe, I finally find it and speed walk towards it, muttering “pardon me,” “excuse me,” as I walk through a crowd of pedestrians.

I get to the front of the cafe and take a deep breath, walking in and heading to the counter to ask if Taylor had gotten there. The waiter points at an elegant, pretty woman wearing a dark green powerful suit. I immediately feel a pang of inadequacy as I dust imaginary lint off my skirt.

Making my way to her, I say with bated breath “Taylor?” She turns to me and says “Vanessa? Hi! Nice to finally meet you.” Oh great, she seems warm.

“Nice to meet you too. I hope you weren’t waiting too long.”

“Oh, no, not at all. I just got here a few minutes before you did.”

She has a sweet smile and doesn’t look a day over 25 but from the deep dive I did about her over the weekend, I remember she’s about 38.

“Have a seat, please,” she says and I pull out the seat opposite her, noticing. Hovering for a moment before sitting, I ease myself unto the chair, trying not to scruff it. “Thank you.”

“Right, so let’s get into this, shall we?”

Smiling softly I say “yes, we shall.”

***********

Hours had gone by and it was now 5pm. Taylor and I were still in the cafe. We had eventually gotten comfortable with each other, the tense atmosphere with meeting someone for the first time had dissolved. Taylor had told me what Radical Arts required for the exhibition, a total number of 20 pieces. Which was kind of insane to me.

We negotiated and consequently agreed on 18 pieces. After agreeing to this, she leaned forward, lowering her tone and said “Now, Vanessa, about our Commission, this is how it works; we will charge 40% per piece as is said in the contract.”

Remembering that I suck in a deep breath and try to convince myself that at least it’s not up to 45-50% that some of my other artist friends tell me their agencies charge them.

She continues “this 40% would cover our fees, promotion for the exhibition, the clients we provide as well as the gallery space. This means if one of your pieces sells for 10 thousand dollars…”

“I get 6,000”

“Exactly! No hidden fees or any underlying expenses.”

Letting out a nervous laugh, I say "I understand, and even if I didn’t, I already signed”

Leaning back into her chair, Taylor smiles brightly “hey, don’t let that bother you, we believe in you and know you’d do great. Heck, I believe in you. From the moment I saw your pieces, I knew I wanted to be the one to help you get out there, you know.”

“Thank you Taylor, that means a lot”

She continues “besides, when the contract is done, if you still want to work with us, you could always revise the rate.”

Hearing that calms my nerves and I begin to feel better about the situation again.

“Now, let’s talk about dates. We were thinking the exhibition should be held a month from now, so we’d be able to send out all the necessary invitations and carry out any preliminary preparations we may need.”

“A month, well that’s not bad. Perhaps the 8th day of May?”

“That’s perfect! We don’t want you stressing about anything, so we would plan the event and we should expect your pieces to be ready and delivered by the 5th of May. Can you do that?”

“Yes, that seems fair. Thank you”

Her lips curl up a little and she says “you don’t need to thank me Vanessa, I’m here to make sure you succeed and I’ll do everything in my power to achieve that.”

Her words flutter in my heart and I tell her “I think we’re past the point of you calling me Vanessa. Please call me Nessa, all my friends do.”

Her eyes crinkled as she smiled “alright Nessa. So I think that’s it for today. You have my number and can call me anytime if you need anything. I’ll also be checking in to know how far you’re going.”

“Okay, thank you so much and it was really nice meeting you.”

“Of course, Nessa.” She rises and stretches her arms out to hug me and I do the same.

We share a quick hug and say our goodbyes. I watch Taylor as she walks out the door and I eventually walk out as well, trailing down the opposite direction, back downtown.