When I look over towards the door I came in, I see a row of actual chairs, complete with a table with books on it. God, I’m in idiot.
I take a seat and pull out my phone. There’s nothing new from Fritz, so I send him a text telling him I’m going to need a hug after my first day is over. I stuff my phone back in my bag and reach for a magazine in front of me. They’re all on art, obviously, and I take the opportunity to read about a new experimental art with electric current. The images of electricity searing the canvas are actually really beautiful. Before I know it, I’m finished with the article and I hear the loud click-clack of heels headed my way.
I hastily put the magazine on the table and straighten it before I stand up and meet the woman coming towards me. She’s tall and slender, maybe in her late forties or early fifties. Her jet-black hair has no gray, but it doesn’t look like she dyes it. It’s away from her face and braided in a knot at the nape of her neck, revealing a strong jaw and blood-red lips. Her dark-rimmed glasses hide her eyes, but I’m not brave enough to meet them with my own yet. She’s wearing all black, and that covers almost every inch of her skin. Her sweater is high necked, and the sleeves are long enough to cover the backs of her hands. Her trousers are wide legged like mine, but so long they cover her feet. I hear the click of her heels, but I can’t even tell what her shoes look like.
“You must be Blair.” Her Spanish accent is thick, but not at all warm.
“Yes, and you must me Ms. Marsh,” I say, extending my hand.
“Lilith,” she corrects, but not in a friendly way. Almost like she doesn’t like her last name. “Marsh is my ex-husband’s last name and keeping it pisses off his new wife. Follow me.”
She turns and walks without waiting to see if I’m behind her. I grab my bag and quick-step to keep up with her long legs. I’m trying to process all that she said but don’t have time to, as her long strides are hard to follow. She’s so statuesque and reminds me of Catherine Zeta Jones. I open my mouth to ask her how long she’s run the gallery, but she begins talking over my attempt.
“You’ll be running the shipping and receiving of the gallery. We feature a new artist each month unless we’re commissioned for longer. Those will be approved by me directly, and I’ll let you know ahead of time. You’ll be in charge of maintaining the gallery calendar, which installations will go in what order, et cetera.”
She’s talking a million miles a minute and I suddenly feel like I should be writing this down.
“Why are you not writing this down?” she says as if reading my mind. She stops dead in her tracks and I almost bump into her as she gives me a sharp look.
I take my phone out of my bag and open up the notes app and start typing what she said. Lilith sighs and then begins to walk again.
“Your everyday tasks are simple. You’re to inspect all received crates for damages and keep the warehouse organized. If I need to find something I better be able to.” She glances back over her shoulder to look at me, and I duck my head. “When each feature artist is finished for the month, you will be the one to supervise and inspect the art being packaged and then sign off on all shipping crates. You alone will be in charge of this.”
Lilith stops short, but this time I’m paying attention and stop with her. I’ve got my phone at the ready for more instructions and she nods, like she’s somehow happy I didn’t bowl her over.
“The only time I’ll be involved is if there’s a problem, so let us both hope that I don’t have to monitor you too closely.” She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.
We make a few turns, and I’m wondering just how huge this building is if we’ve walked this far and she’s talking about a warehouse. My feet are already protesting the low heels, and I’m wondering if I should have worn running sneakers instead.
“This is where you’ll spend the majority of your time,” Lilith says, as we reach a large door. It’s completely white like every other inch of this building, but has a silver handle. “This wall here opens for larger crates to be maneuvered to the gallery floor.”
She indicates to a wall and I can just make out the lines where it could possibly be two large doors. She pushes on a small section of the wall beside the door and a keypad appears.
“You code is 0925,” she says, entering it, and the silver handle clicks.
She opens the door and walks through, and I rush in behind her, not wanting to miss anything. I’m typing as fast as I can when I walk into the warehouse and look around. If my jaw wasn’t attached it would probably hit the floor. This place must be the size of a city block. It’s like the scene from Indiana Jones where they hide the lost ark among hundreds of crates. I’ve never seen so many wooden boxes before.
“Good lord,” I say quietly, but it must have not been quiet enough. Lilith looks back at me and her eyes travel up and down my clothes. I guess I pass muster because she doesn’t look disgusted by what I have on.
“You’ll need to bring a change of clothes every day. When you have to be on the floor you’ll need to look presentable. But when you’re back here, I imagine you’d ruin what you’ve got on.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I say, making more notes.
“This place has been neglected since we opened. I don’t have time to do it myself and I don’t trust it to Gemma,” she says.
“Who?” I ask, and I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing when Lilith rolls her eyes.
“The ray of sunshine on the front desk.” She turns around to face me fully this time as if coming to her final appraisal. “From what Fritz tells me, you’re perfect for the job. You’re a quick learner and take initiative.”
I preen a little as his appraisal.
“All I need is someone who is organized and will take orders. I don’t want someone looking to have my job in a year like Gemma, and I don’t want someone who’s trying to fuck her way to the top of the society pages.”
She gives me a pointed look as if asking me if I’m either of those, and I shake my head no. I do have a ton of ambition in life, but it’s certainly not taking over as curator of an art gallery. And though I love Fritz, his social standing in the community was never the reason I fell for him.
“Good. All I ask is you do your job and don’t screw it up.” We exit the warehouse and she takes me down another white hallway to a small office. “This is your office. You should have everything you need. If you have any questions about the art, ask me. If you have any questions about how to use that computer, ask Gemma. She’s not happy you’re here, but she’ll get over it.”
She motions for me to go in, and I do, moving behind the glass desk and looking around.
“The scheduling files will be emailed to you, but you’ll also receive a folder of paper orders each week. I’ve got several clients that prefer to handle things privately, so some information will be handled that way.”
“Got it,” I say, feeling somewhat confident that I can handle this.
“Blair, I need to ask one last thing of you,” she says, tucking her hands in her trousers and stepping closer to the desk.
For a moment I think she’s going to ask me for a kidney or something because she’s so serious.
“My clients are investing tens of millions of dollars with me. So you’ll understand this job is about absolute discretion.”
“Of course,” I say, already assuming that.
“So if you are at an event and you hear the name of a buyer, or someone mentions this gallery, I need you to keep silent. Anonymity is very important to this gallery and to me. Fritz said that I could trust you, and I don’t trust easily.”
I think for a moment how to ease her mind and decide to go with honesty.
“Lilith, I don’t have any friends. And I don’t mean that as in I have one or two. I mean I have zero. College wasn’t a game for me and I focused on that. Fritz is the only person I have left within five hundred miles, and past five hundred miles there’s no one I care to talk to.” I give an ironic laugh. “Even if I thou
ght about telling someone, I couldn’t. And this job means more to me than sewing circle gossip.”
Lilith nods and I see a smile pull at her lips. “All right. I’ll leave you to it,” she says and turns to click her way down the hall.
I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding and flop down in my seat. I can actually feel the stress sweat in my armpits, but I think I might just have made it through my first ring of fire.