hired to design a new nightclub. It’s the vanity project of a Hollywood celebrity, actually. He loves the mountains and Colorado, and wants to plant a little flag here, I guess. You know how these people can be. They always want something special. Something unique. And your stuff is unique.”
I blush again, this time in a good way. “Thank you.”
He looks at Devon as if signaling her. She smiles at me. “We’d like to see what you can do with it.”
I gape at her, my jaw opens, and I nearly slip out of my chair. Then I look at Nate. Are they messing with me? Is it possible this is really happening? That something amazing is finally happening to me? “You want me to design a celebrity nightclub? But you’ve only just met me.”
Nate shrugs. “Your sketches tell me all I need to know. And we have the time. If you botch it, we’ll survive.” He arches his eyebrows. “But if you’re the next design genius we think you could be, the world will be kissing our asses. What do you say? Will you be our own little wunderkind?”
I don’t even pause for effect. My hand shoots out toward him and I get to my feet. “Absolutely! I’m your girl! You won’t be sorry!” My whole body feels warm and strangely strong. Muscular. I flash to the childhood fantasy of my future self; the cosmopolitan woman living a glamorous life in the city. Is it possible it could actually be coming true?
For the rest of the afternoon, Nate and Devon show me pictures and videos of the projects they’ve done in the U.S., Madrid, and Mexico City. They’re not as high profile and world famous as Lazarus, but they are cool and fun, and clearly loaded. Their world isn’t that of museums, estates, and office towers. They design funky, modern hotel interiors, private pool areas, and nightlife establishments.
Finally, Nate gathers our glasses and brings them to the small sink area in the back while Devon has me fill out several forms to establish my official employment. When it asks for my address, I write down Travis’s, as usual, but this time I feel a little weird about it. Nate appears just as I’m finishing up. He fishes around his inside pocket and pulls out a folded slip of paper.
“Consider it a retainer on the project,” he announces, handing it to me with a warm smile. “And I look forward to many more.”
It’s a check. I open it and look at the number. Immediately, I let out an audible gasp. It’s more than my own father used to make in six years combined. I’ve never had more than a few hundred dollars in my account at any given time. How is it possible that this money is for me? The moment is so unreal that, for a few seconds, I actual question whether or not I’m dreaming. But the paper in my hands is real. It’s happening. My dream is coming true.
I hug Devon and Nate goodbye, and then step out into the fading afternoon light in a daze. My bike is chained up outside, but I’m not ready to go quite yet. Instead, I head across the street to a red brick café where beautiful young people sit reading books or working on their computers. I order an espresso and settle down at a window table with an outlet just below so I can plug in my nearly dead laptop.
For a long, lingering moment I watch the people pass by outside, purposeful and professional people, and for the first time in my life, I think I might actually belong with them. Belong here in this neighborhood. In this café.
Then I turn on my computer and find the site I’m looking for. Listings for apartments in the Denver area.
Chapter Thirteen
“It’s perfect.”
Travis stands at the bay windows looking down at the activity on the street below. It’s only two blocks from my new office and the neighborhood, I’ve discovered, is even cooler than I realized. There are art galleries, kava bars, bookstores, and movie cafes—like a Bohemian dream.
“I don’t know, Travis,” I mumble, walking around the beautifully
I blush again, this time in a good way. “Thank you.”
He looks at Devon as if signaling her. She smiles at me. “We’d like to see what you can do with it.”
I gape at her, my jaw opens, and I nearly slip out of my chair. Then I look at Nate. Are they messing with me? Is it possible this is really happening? That something amazing is finally happening to me? “You want me to design a celebrity nightclub? But you’ve only just met me.”
Nate shrugs. “Your sketches tell me all I need to know. And we have the time. If you botch it, we’ll survive.” He arches his eyebrows. “But if you’re the next design genius we think you could be, the world will be kissing our asses. What do you say? Will you be our own little wunderkind?”
I don’t even pause for effect. My hand shoots out toward him and I get to my feet. “Absolutely! I’m your girl! You won’t be sorry!” My whole body feels warm and strangely strong. Muscular. I flash to the childhood fantasy of my future self; the cosmopolitan woman living a glamorous life in the city. Is it possible it could actually be coming true?
For the rest of the afternoon, Nate and Devon show me pictures and videos of the projects they’ve done in the U.S., Madrid, and Mexico City. They’re not as high profile and world famous as Lazarus, but they are cool and fun, and clearly loaded. Their world isn’t that of museums, estates, and office towers. They design funky, modern hotel interiors, private pool areas, and nightlife establishments.
Finally, Nate gathers our glasses and brings them to the small sink area in the back while Devon has me fill out several forms to establish my official employment. When it asks for my address, I write down Travis’s, as usual, but this time I feel a little weird about it. Nate appears just as I’m finishing up. He fishes around his inside pocket and pulls out a folded slip of paper.
“Consider it a retainer on the project,” he announces, handing it to me with a warm smile. “And I look forward to many more.”
It’s a check. I open it and look at the number. Immediately, I let out an audible gasp. It’s more than my own father used to make in six years combined. I’ve never had more than a few hundred dollars in my account at any given time. How is it possible that this money is for me? The moment is so unreal that, for a few seconds, I actual question whether or not I’m dreaming. But the paper in my hands is real. It’s happening. My dream is coming true.
I hug Devon and Nate goodbye, and then step out into the fading afternoon light in a daze. My bike is chained up outside, but I’m not ready to go quite yet. Instead, I head across the street to a red brick café where beautiful young people sit reading books or working on their computers. I order an espresso and settle down at a window table with an outlet just below so I can plug in my nearly dead laptop.
For a long, lingering moment I watch the people pass by outside, purposeful and professional people, and for the first time in my life, I think I might actually belong with them. Belong here in this neighborhood. In this café.
Then I turn on my computer and find the site I’m looking for. Listings for apartments in the Denver area.
Chapter Thirteen
“It’s perfect.”
Travis stands at the bay windows looking down at the activity on the street below. It’s only two blocks from my new office and the neighborhood, I’ve discovered, is even cooler than I realized. There are art galleries, kava bars, bookstores, and movie cafes—like a Bohemian dream.
“I don’t know, Travis,” I mumble, walking around the beautifully
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