CHAPTER21
Violet
Ifeel lighter than ever.
My husband chose to be honest with me. Last night, he told me he was part of one of the most notorious gangs of the century, and he was right when he said we’re perfect for each other, because I must be warped for the idea to turn me on. At night after work, when I draw, my woman is hijacking a spaceship with her alien and embarking on new, daring explorations. The scenes are much more upbeat and considerably less dark, reflecting my current mood.
Leon’s praise and encouragement gave me something I never had. He gifted me with confidence in my art and myself, enough to show some of the drawings to Vero on Wednesday. Her reaction is so enthusiastic it gives my self-esteem another boost.
“I have a literary agent friend who’ll be very interested in these,” she says, flipping through the pages. “Do you mind if I take a photo to show him?”
“Of course not.”
She snaps a photo with her phone. “You and your husband must come over for dinner on Friday. I’m hosting a small party at home, and Ethan Meyer will be there.”
“Ethan Meyer?” I shriek.
He’s one of the most renowned and feared graphic novel agents in the country. He has a reputation for landing his clients major book deals, but he’s also famous for being brutally honest. If your work sucks, he’ll tell you so to your face. The problem with that isn’t the disappointment. Well, not only. The big deal about being rejected by Ethan Meyer is that every door in the industry will close in your face. Forever. That’s the kind of power he wields. He's nothing if not a god. He’s the gatekeeper of the local equivalent of Marvel and DC and every other noteworthy animation publisher and media company combined.
“Are you sure?” I ask, tapping into my newfound confidence while trying hard not to wince.
“Wear a pretty dress,” she says. “He’s a fashion snob. Oh, and bring some of these sketches. Like I know Ethan, he’ll want to see them on the spot.”
My stomach tightens with nerves and excitement. “I’ll ask my husband if he can make it and get back to you.”
“Honey.” She hands me back my folder. “If your husband loves you, he’ll be there.”
If my husband loves me.
Can I call it love?
Leon and I have amazing sex. We accept one another without judgment. We didn’t enter our marriage with preconceived expectations or unrealistic dreams of an ideal partner, but we’ve grown to care about each other. I’d go as far as saying we like each other. We protect each other’s secrets. That’s huge, right? We are building something, slowly but surely, and I like what we’re creating. A lot.
The minute I step out of Vero’s office, I slip into the kitchen to call Leon with the news.
“Damn, darling,” he chuckles, his deep voice sending a delicious tingle down my spine. “You’re going places.”
“Don’t jump the gun. It’s only an invitation for us to meet.”
“The moment Ethan Meyer sees your work, he’ll be sold.”
“We’ll see.” I guess there’s only one way to find out. “Does that mean you’re free?”
“There’s no question about it. Even if I weren’t, I would’ve dropped everything else.”
His words send a flutter to my belly. “Thank you.”
“Of course, darling. You’re my wife.”
Annie sticks her head around the doorframe, mouthing, “There’s someone to see you.”
“I’ve got to go,” he says.
I give Annie a thumbs-up. “Me too.”
“Wait,” he says. “Can you be home by six?”
“Yes. Why?”
“I’m going to the shooting range. I want you to do another few practice rounds.”
My muscles tense, but now that I’ve fired a gun, the stress is manageable. “Only if you draw a perfect egg face.”
He laughs. “I’ll draw it with my tongue on your—”