“Not a yes, a hell yes,” I quickly reply, leaving no doubts as to what I think about my girl.
“Great. So would you like to offer her a probationary week, or maybe even a month, to test out her—“
“I don’t need a week or a month or anything more than a split second to identify talent. She’s already been hired, and she’s mine now.”
“Mr. Steele, I’m afraid it doesn’t quite work that way. There’s paperwork that needs to be completed before anything becomes official, not to mention we need to confirm with Ms. Jones that she’s—“
“Interested? She already agreed to be here at eight tomorrow morning. Email me the invoice to buy out her contract and I’ll have the money wired to your account before you sit down at your desk in the morning.”
I place the phone back on the receiver before the other party has a chance to respond. The art world is all about negotiation, convincing someone to pay exorbitant fees for something that may or may not be worth more in the future. You learn early you have to sell the buyer on emotion, and when it comes to my emotions I’m as cool as a cucumber.
But not with her. That woman on the other end probably thinks I’ve lost it, that I’m overpaying because I’m not going to run her through some nonsense probationary period.
When you know, you know. And although I don’t know what the invoice will read I do know I’d pay ten times whatever amount appears in my inbox.
What I don’t know is whether or not her bravado was a mere front. She doesn’t seem to know just how talented she is, nor more importantly just how much better she can be. She needs someone who can guide her. I could sense it the moment I laid eyes on her. She’s like clay that needs sculpting, or more accurately she’s Demi Moore in Ghost and she needs Patrick Swayze’s hands to point her in the right direction.
Then again, clay isn’t quite the right substance. Artists can be quirky and are allowed a lot of liberties that a normal employee of any other company wouldn’t. Their talent often lies in their idiosyncrasies. That said, I’ve never seen someone present their work from the innards of a Trapper Keeper. Do they even make those things anymore?
And that sparkly hair clip that she wore discreetly wasn’t lost on me.
There’s a part of her that she’s suppressing, a part that she’s keeping hidden from polite society, but a part of her begging to be let out.
There’s a childlike way that she goes about expressing herself, turning into a brat when challenged by a man with a strong hand.
I will change that, but she won’t be clay that I will mold. More accurately she’ll be more like…Play-Doh.
I’ll test her mettle, but I will not steal her fire.
What I will do is bring her to heel, to me and only me.
And if she sassed me again, she’ll get her first lesson in obedience.
I relax the fist I didn’t know I’d made, my palm flattening, itching to smack her sweet little ass.
And if she wisecracks me again it won’t just be her ass that will be the recipient of my disciplinary measure, but also her mouth.
I’ll kiss her so hard she won’t be able to speak. That should shut her up.
And if not I’ll teach her to mind her mouth by filling it with my cock.
3
Scarlett
I hadn’t intended to cut it this close to arriving at exactly eight, but after turning in my rental car and jumping off the wrong Metrorail stop, it was the predicament I was in.
And I wasn’t about to try and run the last hundred yards to the office. It was better to show up for my first day looking professional than covered in sweat from the humid Miami air.
Not to mention there’s something inside me that wants to knock him down a peg. Yesterday it seemed like he actually responded better when I finally stood up for myself, although he still closed the meeting on a bossy tone with his ‘do this, do that’ repetition about obedience. Would it really kill him to add in a ‘please’ once in a while?
Speaking of please, I was pleased I’d found a job so quickly, even though it did look like this was going to be somewhat of a golden cage. I hadn’t even negotiated the salary, although the temp agency did give me a ballpark for what SteeleSharp, the name Mr. Steele gave to his firm, was going to pay.
And I’d be paying attention to any and every clue I could find when it came to finding out what happened to my father. If Mr. Steele was any indication the waters of the Pacific weren’t the only place teaming with sharks. The fishbowl of the Miami art scene was sure to be teaming with them.
When it came to teams, I’d never had one, never been a part of one. I’d always worked alone yet was excited to try my hand in an environment where I’d be surrounded by other people who were probably ‘a bit out there’ there just like I was.
And teaming up with Mr. Steele might lead to anxiety medication, but it could also lead me to living up to my maximum potential. Despite his demeanor, there’s something about him that called to a part of me I never knew I had.