Page 37 of Lush

Arthur rested against the door. “Must be overwhelming, stepping into this role so quickly.”

“It’s exhilarating, actually. Stepping back into a gallery… It feels like coming home.”

I hadn’t been here since Grandpa died. The two of us used to stroll the gallery halls for hours when I was a kid. And he loved it here; his eyes would light up, especially after the dementia hit.

My phone buzzed again.

“Popular tonight?” Arthur joked.

“Something like that,” I muttered, pulling the drawer open just enough to grab the phone. I thumbed the screen, my breath hitching as I read the notification.

New Message from Unknown Number

I tapped it open. The image loaded slowly, pixel by pixel. My stomach lurched. It was a photograph of me in this very office, taken from outside the window. The room suddenly felt too small, too hot, like the walls were pressing in on me.

It said:

Don’t get too comfortable

Do I respond? Delete it? Pretend I never saw it?

“Everything alright?”

A slow, creeping fear slides down my spine.

This person was playing with me. This person had to want money. I curled my fingers into fists, my nails pressing hard into my palms.

“Is that for me?” I eyed the folder under his arm.

I had bigger problems than that text.

Reese.

Not a text. Not an email. Nothing.

What was hedoing? Was he even bothering to read the stuff I’d sent him? It was easy enough to pick Mama’s and Daddy’s brains without tipping them off. But it was just like him to ignore orders and do whatever he felt like.

Isn’t that what attracted you to him in the first place?

Arthur handed me the folder, and I skimmed it—donor lists, upcoming exhibits, dry notes from the previous curator. I snapped the folder shut and forced a smile. “Thanks. I’ll make sure to get on this tomorrow.”

“The meeting today…”

“Yes?”

Arthur’s first task for me was to come up with the spring exhibit. Instead of getting people excited, my exhibition proposal was a complete flop.

“You sparked an actual conversation in there.”

He was lying. The meeting had been brutal. Who knew suggesting a change would cause such a mess? The reaction was explosive; it was as if I had proposed tearing all the art off the walls and burning it.

“It felt like I was talking to a brick wall,” I muttered, leaning back in my chair. The meeting was filled with skeptical comments, fake nods, and complaints.

“Change is hard for some people. You’re new here, and it’ll take time for them to warm up to you again.”

“I’m here to do the job you hired me for. I’m not doing that by simply existing and hoping people like me at some point.”

“I trust you, Laurene,” Arthur said. “Let’s just focus for now on our auction coming up. Getting the most money we can is the priority.”

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