Read Online Loving Again: Book 2 in the Second Chance series (Crimson Romance) by Peggy Bird - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Peggy Bird
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I’ll call my attorney. Thanks, Margo. I appreciate the heads up.”
“And don’t worry about this. Let the lawyers work it out.”
Yeah, let the lawyers work it out, Amanda thought as she punched in the number for her attorney. But if they can’t, I’m going to solve my problem myself. Whatever that takes.
• • •
Like most art venues, The Fairchild Gallery was closed Mondays. But on this particular Monday, Liz Fairchild was at the gallery hanging a new show. She could have tried to hide but it was hard to conceal an almost six-foot tall body topped by a mane of dark brown, henna-highlighted hair. Particularly when the body, dressed in an oversize white shirt and black leggings, was atop a ladder in front of a floor-to-ceiling display window. Eubie Kane found her by merely looking in from the street.
Liz wasn’t particularly happy to see him. She sold his work in her gallery but he was a pain-in-the-ass to deal with. He was probably there to complain about something — again — or maybe to confirm the rumor she’d heard about him approaching another gallery to represent him. Whatever his reason for being there, Liz knew him well enough to know it would take him forever to get to the point.
As she feared, once Kane was admitted to the gallery, he wandered around, stretching his long legs and arms like a runner after a jog, rambling on about art, artists and galleries and the need for artists to be free to take advantage of the few opportunities offered them.
Liz listened for a while and then lost patience. “Look, Eubie, I have a show to hang. Let’s cut to the chase. What is it you want?”
“Okay, okay. I want you to release me from my contract.”
“So, you’re giving me the required two months notice?”
“No, I want out now.”
“Why would you think I’d release you now when you have your first solo show with me next month? A show I’ve already paid large amounts of money to advertise in a half-dozen publications.” Discussions like this made Liz wish she hadn’t given up smoking ten years before. Nicotine would have rendered Eubie a lot more tolerable.
“But I have a better opportunity, a chance to be in a real gallery, to be part of their annual emerging artists’ show that all the critics review. But they won’t sign me because I have a contract with you.”
Liz wasn’t sure whether she was more annoyed by his whining or his insults. “Honey, offending the person you want the favor from isn’t a particularly effective way to get what you want.” She ran her fingers through her hair. “So, the rumor’s true. You went to The Woods Gallery and asked for representation.”
“I’m willing to give up the solo show, if you’ll release me.”
“Either you’re not listening or there’s an audio problem in here that I never noticed before. So maybe if I write it, you’ll get it.” Liz took a marker, grabbed a scrap of paper from the floor and wrote in big, black letters, “Not only no but hell no.” She handed the paper to him saying, “You signed the contract. You live by it.”
He snatched the paper from her hand, ripped it in two, and crammed it into the pocket of his overalls. “You’ll be sorry you crossed me, Liz. I’m about to make my mark on the art world in Portland and you’re gonna regret you didn’t play ball.” Kane attempted to storm out the door but discovered he had to wait for Liz to unlock it, taking most of the drama out of his exit.
Not five minutes after the young artist left, Mike Benson knocked on the door. This interruption Liz was happy to see. Mike was her temporary help while her regular staffer was off on an extended holiday.
“I thought I’d see if you needed anything for the new show.” He stopped. “Hey, what happened? You don’t look so happy.”
“I’m not. One of my artists was here trying to worm his way out of his contract. He pissed me off.” She shook her head. “But I’m glad you dropped by.” She picked up a
“And don’t worry about this. Let the lawyers work it out.”
Yeah, let the lawyers work it out, Amanda thought as she punched in the number for her attorney. But if they can’t, I’m going to solve my problem myself. Whatever that takes.
• • •
Like most art venues, The Fairchild Gallery was closed Mondays. But on this particular Monday, Liz Fairchild was at the gallery hanging a new show. She could have tried to hide but it was hard to conceal an almost six-foot tall body topped by a mane of dark brown, henna-highlighted hair. Particularly when the body, dressed in an oversize white shirt and black leggings, was atop a ladder in front of a floor-to-ceiling display window. Eubie Kane found her by merely looking in from the street.
Liz wasn’t particularly happy to see him. She sold his work in her gallery but he was a pain-in-the-ass to deal with. He was probably there to complain about something — again — or maybe to confirm the rumor she’d heard about him approaching another gallery to represent him. Whatever his reason for being there, Liz knew him well enough to know it would take him forever to get to the point.
As she feared, once Kane was admitted to the gallery, he wandered around, stretching his long legs and arms like a runner after a jog, rambling on about art, artists and galleries and the need for artists to be free to take advantage of the few opportunities offered them.
Liz listened for a while and then lost patience. “Look, Eubie, I have a show to hang. Let’s cut to the chase. What is it you want?”
“Okay, okay. I want you to release me from my contract.”
“So, you’re giving me the required two months notice?”
“No, I want out now.”
“Why would you think I’d release you now when you have your first solo show with me next month? A show I’ve already paid large amounts of money to advertise in a half-dozen publications.” Discussions like this made Liz wish she hadn’t given up smoking ten years before. Nicotine would have rendered Eubie a lot more tolerable.
“But I have a better opportunity, a chance to be in a real gallery, to be part of their annual emerging artists’ show that all the critics review. But they won’t sign me because I have a contract with you.”
Liz wasn’t sure whether she was more annoyed by his whining or his insults. “Honey, offending the person you want the favor from isn’t a particularly effective way to get what you want.” She ran her fingers through her hair. “So, the rumor’s true. You went to The Woods Gallery and asked for representation.”
“I’m willing to give up the solo show, if you’ll release me.”
“Either you’re not listening or there’s an audio problem in here that I never noticed before. So maybe if I write it, you’ll get it.” Liz took a marker, grabbed a scrap of paper from the floor and wrote in big, black letters, “Not only no but hell no.” She handed the paper to him saying, “You signed the contract. You live by it.”
He snatched the paper from her hand, ripped it in two, and crammed it into the pocket of his overalls. “You’ll be sorry you crossed me, Liz. I’m about to make my mark on the art world in Portland and you’re gonna regret you didn’t play ball.” Kane attempted to storm out the door but discovered he had to wait for Liz to unlock it, taking most of the drama out of his exit.
Not five minutes after the young artist left, Mike Benson knocked on the door. This interruption Liz was happy to see. Mike was her temporary help while her regular staffer was off on an extended holiday.
“I thought I’d see if you needed anything for the new show.” He stopped. “Hey, what happened? You don’t look so happy.”
“I’m not. One of my artists was here trying to worm his way out of his contract. He pissed me off.” She shook her head. “But I’m glad you dropped by.” She picked up a
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