“I see why you’re friends with Ian, though I’d think you would have better manners with Lila’s bloodline running through your veins.”
I winced. “Sorry, it’s been a day.”
“I’m used to it.”
I used a rag to get the worst of the paint off my fingers. “What can I do for you?”
“Right to the point. I’m calling because Ian requested you personally.”
“For what? I don’t really do concert photos. It was just a one-time thing for my cousin. She was in a bind and I had a night free.”
“If you say so.”
Annoyance peppered my voice. “Look, Ms. Price, I appreciate that Ian is trying to get me a gig, but I’m not interested. I have a show—”
“I know. I’ve done my homework. You’re part of the J Town co-op. This is why I believe we could help each other out. Ian seems to think only you would do for his promotional photos. Perhaps even the cover of his EP.”
“I imagine Ripper Records has a whole team of people who can do that. Why ask me?”
“Because Ian is temperamental at times, and if I can respect his wishes on this small thing, then perhaps I will have leverage for later.”
I collapsed on the little stool at my kitchen island. “Well, that’s honest.”
“I like to be straight with people. And as a professional courtesy, I also respect Lila. If she was willing to have you take photos, I’m also interested in your insights. Besides, we’re looking at the younger demographic, and using an actual artist to do the cover of his EP could be just what he needs.”
“Who looks at that stuff anymore anyway?” Unfortunately, it was a very valid question, as I saw my friends working in the graphics field scrambling for work more and more. Everyone was interested in apps and social media, not physical media. Which of course hurt my soul, since I was an artist as well.
“You’d be surprised.”
“Look, I’m flattered but—”
“I haven’t finished.”
I bit my tongue. Steamroller for sure. I supposed she’d have to be to work with Ian. “Please do go on.”
“You do freelance work as part of your studies at J Town. This would fall under that purview. I also have a contact with Rolling Stone who was interested in the idea of an art and rock and roll crossover with an artist working with someone in the music industry.”
“Don’t blow smoke up my coveralls, sister. I’m a nobody and Rolling Stone wouldn’t give two shits about me.”
“I’ve created a Fortune 500 profile with less, sister.”
Sabrina didn’t take shit. Again, probably super necessary to deal with Ian. I had to laugh. “Look, I appreciate the vote of confidence. Ian is just a little infatuated with me.” As evidenced by the middle-of-the-night texts trying to get me to continue this weird friends-with-benefits thing we’d started.
Right, friends. That was not the first word that came to mind.
“I think you’re right.” Sabrina’s voice was cool and controlled.
My chest throbbed as if I’d been thwacked with a tension band. I knew firsthand how it felt from working out with my cousin at her Pilates studio in Turnbull.
Sabrina’s quick acknowledgement should’ve been a warning for me to back off even more from Ian. Because I really was just a passing interest. It was best to remember that before I became even more enamored with him.
“Then we’re in agreement.”
Sabrina was quiet for a moment. “I may give Mr. Kagan a free pass with some requests, but I wouldn’t offer it to you unless I’d done my homework.”
“I’m a nobody.”
“So you say. Do you think all the artists in your little commune get as much freelance as you do? That’s a no. I know plenty of artists who are far hungrier for the work.”