“Well, I happen to be a person of means,” Harry says. “And I’m always looking for something worthy to invest in. Our firm works in all industries—architecture, technology, health. And, yes, art. In all its forms.”
I blink at him. “What—I don’t understand what you’re getting at. All due respect.”
He smiles at me. “What if you could earn a living by doing what you love to do every day—and nothing else?”
I shake my head slowly. “I’m not following.”
“Let me invest in your art,” he says. “In you. We’ll do a show for DC’s ritziest. We’ll make prints. Digital and physical books. You’ll be Draco City’s premier artist.”
“Harry, it’s not nice to make fun of those less fortunate than—”
“I’m being absolutely, one hundred percent honest,” he says earnestly. “I’m a very well-connected man, Sazah. I know agents, managers. You can have a very lucrative career as an artist if you want it. It’ll be hard work, and that might sometimes conflict with your creativity, but if you’re willing to give it a shot, I can help you get there.”
“How?” I whisper.
“For starters, how about moving you into a place in FinSec? A nice big studio apartment where you’ll have plenty of room to paint. I’ll make sure you have all the materials you need. I can provide you with a chef to see to your meals, a housekeeper to keep things tidy. Your bills will be paid.”
I can only gape at him.
“I can help you get a good agent,” he continues. “You’ll be introduced to DC’s elite. All those wealthy types, no matter how stuffy they are, they love some good art. They know people who know people. You’ll get commissions, I’m certain. I don’t see any reason why you won’t be a very well-off young woman in a couple years with the right team.”
It sounds too good to be true, but my heart sings at the thought of it all. The chance to live my dream, to do what I love to do every day and not have a care in the world.
But if it sounds too good to be true…
“What’s the catch?” I ask quietly.
“Well.” Harry reaches up to toy with a lock of my hair. “Everything has a price, doesn’t it?”
I gaze at him. “Sure. What’s yours?”
“Nothing you wouldn’t want to do,” he says. “Think about it. I’m offering you the chance to live your dream. You’ve got incredible talent, Sazahn. You shouldn’t let it go to waste.”
I nod slowly. My dream. For the bargain price of my body…at least.
“You could leave this place tomorrow,” Harry adds.
That would mean leaving Jammy. Leaving Cue. I’m sure Harry wouldn’t think there was room for my eccentric, wonderful friends in the ritzy new life he’s offering.
And what about Cynthia? What would she say about all of this?
I can’t imagine my sister would be happy to know just how much my dream costs.
“Like I said, think it over,” Harry says, running a hand through my hair. “And get back to me when you’re ready. You know where to find me.”
“Okay,” I reply. “I’ll think about it and let you know.” And I will think about it, even though I feel I know the answer deep down already.
After a few more minutes, I leave Harry and head toward the DJ booth, my head swimming. There’s only one person I can talk to about this who won’t judge me and who I can count on for unbiased advice.
Jammy.
They’re dancing in place inside the DJ booth, projecting a hologram of the running playlist and swiping a finger through the air, making some adjustments here and there.
“Jammy,” I yell, waving an arm.
I catch their attention, and they look down at me.
Need to talk, I mouth exaggeratedly so they’ll know what I’m saying. I point toward the back, where the dressing room is, then hold up five fingers.