18 ✓

THIRTEEN

"Don't be nervous, Pickle! Miss Fancy Pants will love it!"

I let out a nervous sigh. "I can't help it, Abs. This is my first real client. What if she hates it?"

"Dylan Sabrina Miller! Stop! Calm yourself, right now!" Abby shouted from the other end of the phone call, "Are you calm now?"

"Yes," I lied, appreciating her efforts. I peered out the window as the taxi slowed to a stop, "I'm here now. I'll call you after."

Abby gave one last round of supportive words and we said our goodbyes. Dropping my phone into my purse, I paid the taxi driver before getting out of the car. I kept a tight hold on the wrapped canvas, taking a deep breath.

You can do this, Dylan.

It was amazing how fast time could change things. Only a few short weeks ago, I was dealing with the aftermath of my run-in with Hunter. A run-in that had left a dark cloud hanging over my head. The only thing I wanted to do was create; paint something to help me escape. But I couldn't. Every time I sat down, it was as if all the creativity I had vanished. That was until I received a special phone call.

Ms. Lewis was a wealthy lawyer, wanting to fill her renovated office with fresh, new artwork. Or so her assistant had said over the phone. Given a short timeline, reference photos, and creative freedom, I was brought right out of my creative woes and got to work.

And now, I sat at reception, anxiously tapping my feet. My nerves, combined with the unusually warm day in December for Los Angeles, did not help. With each employee that passed, I felt underdressed. As they wore perfectly tailored suits and dresses, I had gone for a pair of black jeans, a white shirt and converse. I could hear my mother cursing me out for not dressing to the occasion.

"Dylan?" A chipper voice pulled me from my thoughts.

A man, who looked only a few years older than I was, stood in front of me. I quickly got to my feet and nodded. "That's me!"

"I'm Victor. We spoke on the phone." He reached forward to shake my hand. "Ms. Lewis is ready for you," he said, turning and walking down the hall, motioning for me to follow.

I grabbed hold of the canvas and hurried after him, doing my best to not bump into anyone along the way. As we stepped into the office, my breath was taken away by the mere size of the space. Ms. Lewis sat behind her desk on one end, talking on the phone to someone. A small seating area was on the other side of the room, in front of a wall filled with accomplishments, from diplomas, to what appeared to be trophies.

"You can take a seat," Victor whispered, "She'll be done in a moment."

I nodded, giving a smile of gratitude in response, as I didn't want to risk making any noise that would interrupt. I took a seat, my eyes gravitating towards the large windows which provided a breathtaking view of the city. It was clear Ms. Lewis had done well for herself. The grand size of her office had to be larger than my entire apartment.

"Well if I don't have that contract signed and at my office by five sharp, there will be problems." Ms. Lewis abruptly hung up the phone. "Dylan, is it?" The women's voice instantly dropped to a much sweeter tone, "My budding artist. I am excited to see what you have created! I've been waiting all week."

"It's so nice to finally meet you, Ms. Lewis," I did my best to hide the nerves that desperately wanted to escape.

"Oh, please. Call me Diane."

The women's demeanour was warm. Yet, I was willing to bet that if she didn't like what I had created, there was little chance she would hold back any opinions. One could not rise to her level of apparent success without being honest, no matter how brutal it might be.