Page 49 of Hard to Break

Nova and I are visiting the Coastal Gallery to persuade them of hosting a solo show. Even though my friend is already becoming an established name, this would be a massive profileboost—particularly since most of her shows to date have been on the East Coast.

“Thanks for making time for this,” Nova says. “I couldn’t do it without my right-hand woman by my side.”

My friend is a bright spot in all the chaos. She’s been paying me to help with her brand and social media, and asked if I would help her field new opportunities, too.

I vow to give her my best effort despite feeling as if my life is spiraling out of control.

“Go crush it,” Ruby tells us when we head for the door. “I’ll be by the pool when you’re done.”

I jump in the driver’s seat of our rented Mustang, cranking the top down so the breeze flies through. The wind tickles my fingers, and I resist the urge to shut my eyes.

Finding parking is its own miracle, but in half an hour, Nova and I are walking into a long, low building in Santa Monica. The owner introduces himself, shaking both our hands.

“This is Brooke. She handles my PR,” says Nova.

I blink at the intro. Though I’ve been helping with her social and strategy for a couple of months now, I can’t help but think that this feels like her offering me,givingme, a promotion.

More than that, she’s putting her trust in me.

My chest tightens.

He walks us around, then takes us to a meeting room in the back lined with windows. We sit around a huge glass table along with a gallery assistant who’s taking notes.

“We’d love to showcase some of your existing work.”

“I was hoping to feature new pieces.” Nova pulls out the portfolio at her side and lays out some of them.

His expression falls. “Our audience would respond best to the work you’re known for.”

“You must appreciate what it’s like to want to go in a different direction.” I smile at him. “I mean, you said yourself you retired from corporate life to do this.”

He nods thoughtfully. “But we already have an abstract exhibit scheduled for next year.”

I want to be strong for her, and I’m not letting some guy push my friend around, professionally or otherwise.

“Then maybe this isn’t the right time,” I say.

Nova glances at me but doesn’t say anything.

After a bit more conversation and some polite exchanges, my friend and I step out into the main gallery space.

“They’re a big deal, but you can’t go in and bend to everything they ask. He has to respect you,” I say under my breath.

She doesn’t look convinced.

“But if you want to go with it…” I go on.

“No. I trust you.”

I nod, the blood pounding in my veins feeling like confidence. “Good.”

13

MILES

When I was a kid, I used to love going to fairs—the rides, the games, the music. They’ve all gotten bigger since I was young. Case in point: the new amusement park opening near Fort Collins this weekend.

Someone on their PR team reached out to see if I would help them open it. Now, I’m in the front seat of a roller coaster car, sitting next to a photographer filming it all.

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