Gordon Chadwick turned out to be a short, balding man with a burgeoning potbelly. He had seedy blue eyes and a false smile that was far too shrewd.
“Mr. Danvers,” he greeted, as he extended his hand out towards me. “Welcome.”
“Thank you for agreeing to meet me, Mr. Chadwick,” I said, sitting down.
“I’m always interested in cultivating new talent,” he said. “Unfortunately I don’t have a lot of time to give you. This will have to be fast… I’m afraid that puts a lot of pressure on you to make an impression.”
I raised my eyebrows, realizing that he wasn’t going to help me at all. I cleared my throat, projected an aura of confidence and pushed the large portfolio folder in my hands towards him.
“Well, in that case,” I said. “I’ll let my work speak for itself.”
Gordon seemed impressed with that move. I knew he wasn’t the type of guy who would fall for a lot of talk. I needed to show him what I could do. He zoomed through my portfolio, giving each picture of my work perhaps three seconds of attention each. I felt my optimism drop. What if he was speeding through them because he didn’t like what he was seeing?
It had taken me a long time to get this interview with him in the first place. Persistence was the only thing that had helped me here. If he turned me down, then I was back to square one with nothing to show for all my hard work.
“Interesting,” Gordon said, closing the portfolio and pushing it back towards me.
“Interesting?” I repeated, unsure what that meant.
“You play in many different mediums?”
“I don’t like to limit myself,” I said, reminding myself to stay confident even if I didn’t feel it.
“Your subject matter is all over the place too… but it’s very compelling.”
“That was my goal.”
Gordon rested his face on his hand for a moment while he studied me carefully. “Have you been exhibited anywhere else?”
“Only a few shows in college,” I admitted.
“But none in any galleries in the city since then?”
“No.”
“Hmm… well then, if I agree to take a chance on you… I’d be doing you a favor.”
I hesitated for a second. “Actually, I think I’d be doing you a favor,” I said.
He stared at me and then smiled in amusement. “Do explain that.”
“I’m going to be a big name someday,” I said. “Everyone’s going to know my work; everyone’s going to fight to own a Devlin Danvers painting one day. Don’t you want to be the one to say that you were the gallery owner who gave me my start? Don’t you want to say that you spotted my talent before anyone else did?”
Gordon narrowed his shrewd eyes at me and pursed his lips. “I’m not usually a fan of arrogance, but in this industry, I think sometimes it’s necessary,” he said. “And you’re the only one who’s given me a sales pitch that’s not half bad. So…”
“So?”
“I will exhibit your work here,” Gordon said, and I tried not to jump out of my seat. “Keep this portfolio with me. I’ll go through it again and pick the five paintings I like best. Those will be the ones on display. I’ll price them as well and send you the details. The gallery keeps twenty percent of whatever you make on each painting.
“Twenty percent?” I asked. “That’s steep.”
“And non-negotiable,” Gordon said.
I knew better than to push that point. I nodded. “Thank you for this opportunity.”
The moment I stepped out of the gallery, I took a deep breath and let joy fill my lungs. I immediately grabbed my phone and texted Zoey. “Guess what? We have a big reason to celebrate tonight. It’s time to party and party hard. Get your dancing shoes on.”
I sent the text and then gave calls to Beatz, Roy, and Ethan. They would get the word out about the party tonight. I went to the station to report for my community service and spent four hours there, checking my phone continuously for a reply from Zoey.