'Star Crossed' Sneak Peek 1

Meet Margot Raimondi

            Margot Raimondi picked up her palette and brush, approaching the partially finished canvas propped up on the easel in front of her.  The latticework of an urban bridge was beginning to take shape beyond a woman walking along a city street, wearing the latest name brand designer trend, painted a bright, crude red; she would shade it in later with maroons, browns, and blacks.

            Margot had caught the attention of many art agents and investors with her art style, assimilating high fashion into landscape scenes, typically urban areas.  She had done a few smaller scale pieces: like a bar, club, or café, but preferred the larger scale pieces.  That was where the demand - and therefore, money - was.  At age twenty-two and fresh out of art school, she was already in surprising - almost unheard of - demand.

            She pressed her tongue into her cheek thoughtfully as she made the first fresh brushstroke along the bridge’s support beam.

            The motor of the elevator roared to life - an old cargo lift from when the building had been a warehouse.  The elevator came to a halt at her floor - the second - and its passenger slid up the wooden gate.  Bill Keener stepped out, lowering the gate back down behind him and then flattening his tie as he stood upright.

            Bill was in his early fifties, his brown hair greying and his head completely bald on top.  When fully upright, he stood about six feet seven inches tall.  Bill was always clean-shaven, with large, rectangular glasses that rested on his long nose and magnified his hazel-green eyes.  Margot chortled to herself; she did not think she had ever seen Bill in anything but a suit, even in studios.  His red tie was the only burst of color against his charcoal grey and white suit ensemble, his black shoes appearing to have been freshly shined.

            “Margot!” he exclaimed jovially, walking across the studio to where she stood painting.

            “Hello, Bill.  Wasn’t expecting you to drop by today.”  Margot did not look away from her painting.

            “I have great news!” Bill continued emphatically, gesturing wildly with his free hand and white-knuckled gripping his leather briefcase in the other.

            “Please, tell me more about your exciting news.”  Margot spoke with a sharp tone, not even bothering to attempt to cover up her annoyance.  Couldn’t Bill see that she was working?

            Bill came up behind her, peering over her shoulder.  “Oh, what are you working on here?  Looks promising.”  He lowered his glasses, squinting at the canvas.  Margot had the urge to jab him with her paintbrush, but resisted.  She had to play nice with Bill; after all, she owed him her career.

            Bill Keener had been Margot’s agent since he had discovered her in college at a student art show.  While Margot was sure that someone would have surely noticed and acknowledged her talents, Bill had been the one to give her a shot at being featured in a small gallery amongst other more well-known and established artists.  And then he had found out that she could write.

            Margot’s true dream was to be an art journalist, painting on the side.  Bill had been her inside line not only to having her artwork featured in galleries, but to getting jobs with art and culture magazines.  She was still freelance at the moment; Bill kept promising a permanent position.  He said that they just hadn’t found the right magazine yet.

            “Designer piece,” she replied curtly.

            “And the article?”

            Margot turned to face him, whipping her head in such a way that her long, auburn hair was swept over her opposite shoulder.  Rage burned behind her blue irises.  “I thought you said you had news!” she snapped.

            “Stuck again?”  Bill smirked, but disappointment flashed in his eyes and tone.

            “It will get done… before the deadline.”  Margot paused, narrowing her eyes at him.  “For f**k’s sake Bill, can’t you see I’m busy?  What did you come here to talk about?”

            Bill continued to smirk.  Margot Raimondi was a temperamental b***h.  But she was also talented, which equaled money.  “You will change your tone when you hear what I have to tell you.”

Author's Note

An excerpt from my July 2018 Camp NaNoWriMo.