Overture (Rain Dance, Book 1) (Rain Dance Series) Read Free Page A

going?"
          "Good.
You?"
          "Great. So
look," she began, getting straight to the point. "I've been tasked
with delivering a message to you personally. Someone wants you for a job."
          My face
scrunched up in confusion. "Um…Like a commission?"
          "I'm not
exactly sure what kind of job, but I'd imagine so."
          "Me
specifically? Why didn't they just email me?" If they knew about me, then
they also had to know about my website.
          "They
wanted to make sure that you became aware of it."
          That sounded a
little too serious. "Who, exactly?"
          Mercedes
laughed. "Get a pen and paper so I can give you the number. A woman,
Patricia, will answer. She'll schedule you an interview."
          My body
automatically cringed at the word. Whether by phone or in person, interviews
were a fucking nightmare. "I really don't think I'm interested-"
          "Listen,
Em," she cut me off. "You're going to want to take this job. Trust
me. Now write the number down."
     

     
          Two hours
later, I held the phone between the palms of my sweaty hands, chanting in my
head to just do it . Had I really needed a job at the moment, I would
have called right away. But because I had the option to think about it, there
was enough time for anxiety to have set in. In the end, curiosity had won over
my lazy side, so taking a deep breath, I dialed the number and cleared my head,
numbing myself.
          A very
pleasant-sounding woman answered on the second ring. "Ethan Desmond's
office. Patricia Carnell speaking. How may I help you?"
          "Hi, this
is Emeline Vincent. I received a call regarding an interview?"
          "Miss
Vincent? Ah, of course. What days are you free to come by?"
          "Um…All
days." It probably wasn't the best answer, but I panicked.
          "…Today?"
          Today? I
looked at the clock. It was almost four. "I'm available today."
          "Mr.
Desmond will be free by five-thirty this evening. Would that be convenient for
you?"
          No, that's
way too fucking soon. "Yes."
          "Great. I
can have the address emailed to you in a few minutes, along with
directions."
          "I have a
pen and some paper right here." I wasn't about to tell her where I lived,
so I had her give me the address instead. As I wrote it down, I mentally cursed
myself for agreeing so suddenly before thinking it through.
          "Just give
the young lady at the front desk your name," she instructed
           "Um…Is there anything in particular I
should bring? Will I need a portfolio or…?" Was it unprofessional to ask?
          "All you
need to bring is yourself."
          "Alright.
Thank you."
          After hanging
up, I tossed the phone onto the other side of the couch. Well, the sooner I
get it over with, the better, I guess.

 
    A
quick search on the internet and I had found the place. The Luxadigm. The same
building I had just spent days working on. Of course. It all made sense
now. Perhaps they wanted another painting of their building? I wasn't sure I'd
be up for that, though. It was rare that I painted anything architectural. But
I figured I might as well see what they wanted.
          If I walked I
could probably be there in half-an-hour. Or I could take a cab and be there in
minutes. The choice became obvious when I realized I only had a certain amount
of time to get ready. I'd be entering the nicest building in the area, so presentation
was important. Would it be better to play it safe and wear slacks and a nice
top? I wonder what would happen if I showed up in some outlandish outfit
that screamed 'look at me, I'm an artist!'
          …Maybe I should just keep it classy. If I looked mature,
I would be taken a little more seriously. Hopefully.
          Whenever in
doubt about an outfit, I always resorted to the default: the little lady
black . It varied depending on where I was going, but only