“Yes. And obviously it was a good decision. Every person we met mentioned that painting.”
“The painting is good, but as your agent, I see a habit.”
“Habit?”
“Things become bigger than your art. Macom. The winery. Nick.”
“You and Macom made him bigger than me.”
“That’s not true,” Josh says. “He was my client before you. I was trapped in your own submission to him. And now it’s happening with Nick. You didn’t want to leave him to meet people.”
“He’s my guest and inspired me to paint again. He helped me get a grip on the winery.”
“And there it is. I told you. He fucks you and uses you. He wants the winery.”
“He does not want the winery.”
“Make sure before it becomes a devastating realization that shoves you into a corner again. Because we’re going to get offers. I don’t want either of us to look like fools. Better yet, sell the damn winery, Faith. It’s a distraction. You’ve made eighty thousand dollars in two weeks. More will follow.”
“The winery isn’t a distraction,” I say, though those words might be a bit half-hearted. “Additionally,” I add. “I moved to San Francisco and I’m working at the Allure Gallery, with Chris and Sara Merit. The pay and the opportunity are both great.”
“Why am I just now finding this out?”
“You knew I was part of the gallery opening.”
“Why am I just now finding this out?” he repeats.
“I don’t want Chris used to move my career ahead,” I say, only now admitting that very real concern. “Chris and Sara are my friends. Promise me.”
“I’ll talk to Chris—”
“No. No, you will not. Promise me.”
His lips tighten. “I promise.” He is silent for several beats before he says, “We’re friends. I care about your success. Come to L.A. in a couple of weeks.Alone.Let’s do some career planning.”
Nick’s warnings ring in my head, driven home by the way he’s kept me far away from him tonight. “Are we too personal, Josh?”
“I care. Most people want an agent that cares.”
“But are you too personally involved with me?”
“We’re friends.”
“Macom is your friend.”
“You are too, Faith. And I’m the best damn agent out there. You need me. I deserve you. I’ve ridden the highs and lows with you. You don’t get to leave when you have some success or when I push too hard. We’re a team. Agreed?”
He’s right. He has stuck it out with me. “Yes. But you need to know that I have moved in with Nick. He’s not going away, so please treat him accordingly.”
“You moved in with him,” he states flatly.
“Yes. Please treat him—”
“Understood,” he says, glancing at his watch. “We need to get into the ceremony.”
“I am going to go freshen up,” I say, not about to let him come up with a reason to separate me from Nick for the ceremony. “I’ll see you inside.”
He studies me several beats. “Are we okay?”