Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Mouth still open, Adrian demanded, “Why on earth would you not do this?”
She had to be blunt. “Because I slept with him last night.”
They weren’t just agent and artist. Adrian was her best friend, the person she’d counted on. Saskia trusted her implicitly.
They’d been best friends since they were sixteen—half their lives—when Saskia was living in a dingy London garret with some artist friends. While creating her street art—which would always be her first love—she’d supported herself by selling caricatures to tourists. Adrian bought one. They’d been besties ever since, even moved to San Francisco together five years ago. But while Adrian cultivated her British accent, because Americans thought it was posh, Saskia had worked diligently to get rid of hers so she wouldn’t stand out in an American city. Her accent was Anywhere USA. It facilitated her anonymity.
Adrian dramatically pushed her mouth closed with two fingers. “Let me just wipe up my drool.” Then she sighed. “He is so hot. Was it as incredible as I imagine?”
They usually shared intimate details. Not that either of them had much to share recently, and Saskia, not for five years.
She closed her eyes and exhaled a long, satisfied breath before looking at her friend again. “Oh. My. God. It was like… take amazing and multiply by a thousand,” she said just as dramatically. “Fireworks and everything you ever dreamed of.”
Adrian fanned herself. Then she rushed to the water cooler, pouring two cups and handing one to Saskia. “You must be parched after a night of major fireworks.” Seated again, she drained the small cup. “It wasn’t all about him and his needs?”
Saskia shook her head, once to the left, once to the right. “It was all about me. About my fireworks.” She widened her eyes, “Not to say that he didn’t get his.”
Adrian let out a sigh. “You held out for five years until you got the very best.”
Adrian knew everything about her, especially why Saskia hadn’t been with a man in that long. Hugo, the awful ex. He’d been Saskia’s everything. But all the while, he’d been screwing her over. He’d stolen her pseudonym and claimed her art as his, which meant he’d stolen her whole life. She’d had to start from scratch, building her name all over again.
Adrian had seen her fall into a dark pit of despair. “I know how hard it was for you back then.”
But Saskia had to be honest. “If Hugo hadn’t claimed my early work, I might not have made the style switch to stuff that’s truly me.”
“Didn’t Taylor Swift say something about making your best stuff even when your heart is broken?”
Saskia nodded.
“That’s you, baby,” her friend said. “You got even better after Hugo broke your heart.”
Yeah, Saskia thought, she had. She’d always felt a lot of her early work was derivative of famous street artists like Banksy and his girl with the balloon, using symbols and hearts and butterflies and lots of blank space. Though she’d put her own spin on it too. But now she was all about bold colors and diversity and filling up every space with imagery.
Hugo Lewis was an ass, and she’d never forgive him for what he’d done. But she was a better artist for having struggled through the madness he’d brought into her life.
Then, Adrian being Adrian, she got down to business once more. “Okay. You slept with him. Had amazing sex. How do you want to deal with this situation now?”
Saskia pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes a moment before she looked up. “You know who Clay Harrington is. And what he does. I don’t agree with his new artists’ platform. There’s got to be something off about it. I totally shouldn’t see him again.”
Adrian set her lips in a prim line. “After you blew me off yesterday so you could have amazing sex multiplied by a thousand with an incredible hottie, I did a deep dive into what the man is actually doing in our artistic community. Honestly, it might be not only aboveboard, but also a really good thing for budding artists.”
Saskia snorted. “Come on. He cherry-picks who he wants on his platform. And he won’t allow anybody to criticize? There’s just something wrong with that.”
But Adrian shook her head. “I didn’t find a single artist who said he or she was used by him. In fact, I saw only praise.”
Saskia narrowed her eyes. “There are companies that scrape the internet and remove anything negative. It costs money, but he has a lot of that.”
“You didn’t hear him yesterday talking about your art.”
“You mean San Holo’s art,” Saskia said for her.
Adrian tossed that away with a flick of her wrist. “That’s because you want to remain anonymous. I’m telling you, he truly appreciates the art. You should give him a chance.”