Page 47 of Shot Taker

He holds the door wide, and I follow him inside.

“Would you like a chair?”

“No, thank you.” I produce the sketchpad.

Last night after getting back from Clay’s, Brooke found me scouring the internet for public rates for commissioned works. When I told her what I was doing, she was immediately supportive.

“Get yours, Nova. You’re insanely talented, and you should know your worth.”

Now, I watch James take in the sketch.

“What is this?”

“The expanded scope of the wall. You said the board liked the direction with the skyline, but it will be more meaningful to have different levels of connection. The buildings represent Denver, but the players represent basketball, the faces are this team. Your team.”

“In that case, I’m impressed. And I approve.” He passes the sketchpad back, and I take it.

“I didn’t come only for your approval. You offered me twenty thousand for this project. I want twenty more, plus a cut of merchandise.”

His brows lift, as do the corners of his mouth. Amused isn’t the reaction I was going for, and I grip the edges of my sketchpad tighter, ignoring the urge to tug on my skirt like a school kid in the principal’s office.

He rounds the desk, shifting a hip onto the corner, his eyes never leaving mine. “Did you ever take economics, Nova?”

“Yes.”

Half a course in community college that I slept through because I was working during the days too.

“Then you know that a person’s worth doesn’t have anything to do with what they create. It’s about the market value. What they can command elsewhere.”

I don’t like where this is going.

“Is there a competing offer on your time?” he goes on. “From another employer or patron perhaps?”

He’s boxing me into a corner without moving a muscle.

Clay and the other players do their work with their bodies, sleek chess pieces moving around a hardwood board. This man does it with his mind.

I shake my head slowly.

“Then you’ll understand why I’m not looking to renegotiate. Besides,” he goes on, straightening his tie, “this is good exposure for you. You should be grateful for the project.”

“I am grateful, but…”

“Yes?”

My mind spins. “Competing offers work both ways.”

He frowns, cocking his head.

I continue. “If I don’t finish this, you need to find someone else who will. Can you honestly tell me there’s another artist who can work in your timeline and deliver this degree of execution?”

His eyes narrow. “There are always motivated people.”

I glance back toward the entrance, the heavy wood. “Did you pick that door?”

“I did. Cherry, imported from quite a distance. Appearances matter.”

“How many people come through that door every day? Ten? Twenty?” I lift a shoulder. “That’s only for the door of your office. This will be the front door of your organization. Twenty thousand people every night.” His eyes glint, and I know I’ve hooked him. “If you’re questioning whether it’s worth it, believe me, it is. Everyone who sees it will understand that you and this team are for real. That after ten years, you’re not fading—you’re just getting warmed up.”

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