Page 166 of Pretty ’n Peak

“Nice to meet you, Austin.” The two men shook. “Let me just flip the sign to closed and lock the door.” That done, Richard encouraged Mateo into a slow tour of the space. “Take a look around with me.”

Mateo followed, eyes wide. There were a few of the more abstract pieces that… didn’t speak to him as much. But most of them were amazing. Stunning.

He almost wanted to buy some of them for his own apartment.

Then he took a closer look at some of the cards beneath, the blocky black text clear-set on the cream cardstock. He blanched. Three thousand dollars! That was for a large oil painting that he didn’t care for. But the small photograph beside it, two very different pairs of men’s shoes tangled together on their owners’ feet, was compelling. And eight hundred dollars.

Mateo knew he’d raised a lot of money for the library. But this? He couldn’t buy anything like this, and he didn’t know anyone who could.

Maybe Austin. Well, definitely Austin, though he’d discovered that his Daddy was comfortably upper middle-class and not filthy rich like he’d feared in the conversations about quitting his job.

Richard reached the end of the first row with Mateo tagging behind, then turned back to walk through a second. “When we met on the phone, you expressed some reluctance about showing your pieces. I never want to pressure anyone to sell through me, because that’s always a personal decision by the artist. But I will say that I love your work and that I think it would do well here. The stuff I saw at the library exhibit was solid, but the pieces you sent me over text are inspired. It’s the type of art that makes people feel the paintings with you. So if there’s anything I can do to encourage you, I’d like to do so.”

Wow. That was high praise indeed, floating through him like helium.

It didn’t allay his fears, though. Where to begin? Mateo looked to the front of the store, where Austin had slipped a tablet out of his bag and was using it to carefully inspect the piece in front of him. He was probably listening, though. It was such a small space, and Daddy would always be looking out for him.

He took a deep breath, drawing on the courage he’d only gathered in the past few weeks. “I guess I have two concerns. The first is that… Well, you keep telling me that I’m an artist, but it’s always been a hobby to me. I painted for myself. And the idea of sharing some of it is… I mean, it’s very personal.”

“Ah. That makes sense. You reveal a lot of yourself through your canvas.”

“Yeah. And, uh, the other big thing is that I’m not out.”

Richard raised an eyebrow toward Austin, who continued his very obvious examination of the photo.

“I’m very new to being gay. Like, even to myself. Those paintings are… They’re all the things I can’t tell my family yet. So I was wondering… if I held off for a year, maybe, until I talked to them, could there still be a spot for me?”

Richard nodded slowly. “I genuinely hope to still be here in a year, and the opportunity will still be open. But it makes me sad to hear. It’s tragic to keep such beauty hidden away.”

“Thank you for saying that.”

“If you were to work with me, it could be anonymously, with no public contact. You’re not the first person who’s done that. But you’ll get many more sales if you’re willing to do events, make a personal statement with your photo on the website, and so on. For example, I could start showing your work now to build up some buzz, then schedule a showing around November for people to meet you and highlight your pieces. If we work well together to promote it, we could sell out your entire collection in a single night.”

“You really think that many people would be interested in my paintings?”

“That’s my sense. And I’ve been doing this for over twenty years.”

“Even for that much money?” He gestured toward the expensive rows.

“I would price the one you had hanging in the entry to the library at five thousand.”

Mateo gasped.

“Though we haven’t discussed terms yet. I work on a commission basis—fifty percent to cover my fees, and fifty percent to the artist. You retain sole ownership of a piece until it’s sold, and anything I can’t move within a year is returned to you.”

“That seems really high,” Mateo hedged. The whole price and the amount Richard would keep, when he hadn’t even raised a brush.

They’d wandered back to where Austin was standing, and he turned to join the conversation. “I believe that’s actually a standard commission and agreement. He’s not taking you for a ride.”

That was good to know. Mateo drifted a little closer to Austin. He somehow hadn’t thought to look any of this up first.

Richard’s eyes twinkled at the interjection. “I’m not. The commission covers the rent, showing fees, and my salary—and I’m working forty hours a week to make sure that buyers find your work and get excited about it. Also, for a new artist starting out, it’s unlikely that you would be able to sell that piece for that price, or even half of it. There’s a lot of hustle to get started, and a lot of advertising that artists don’t want to bother with.”

“But you would want me to be on the website and do a showing in November?”

“I would be able to sell your pieces more successfully if you do. More so if you attend other events, and you’re part of promoting your work and the events to friends.”

Austin’s hand brushed the back of his, just the faintest touch, but it still sent a thrill of happiness and comfort through him. “I have plenty of friends who would be very interested. Imagine Jamie getting ahold of that information.”