The Last Hedge Read Free

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    “You know my situation: I’m good for the money, but I’m just not liquid. My investments are in the tank right now, so I can’t sell stock. And because I’m not working, I can’t re-finance the apartment. And not working in this city is a cash pit. So, as soon as I get this job, I can re-finance with the bank and get some liquidity into this place.”
    “You’re going to take money from your apartment to help with this gallery? Dylan, you’re a bright guy. How did you wind up in a mess like this?”
    “It looked good on paper. Cat and I did tons of research.”
    “You call her Cat?”
    “Forget I said that.”
    “May I call her Cat?”
    “You don’t work at the gallery.”
    “Don’t get me wrong, I think she’s a great girl. But her sales skills are lacking. I watched her not sell a painting to someone who was interested in buying.”
    Dylan remembered the situation. A drunk investment banker and his girlfriend had stumbled into the gallery from the bar next door. The girl had been a rail-thin blonde of dubious Eastern-European origin, and the young knight’s act of chivalry had been an attempt to buy her an expensive painting. Unbeknownst to him, the painting had been done by Rafael Armedia, a young Argentine painter Samantha had been nurturing for over a year. His paintings had been heating up in a few galleries in L.A., and Samantha was stockpiling the works to later make a killing. The killing had not happened, and the banker had offered Samantha a cool five thousand on the spot for a painting she was selling for 10K. Neither budged, and the banker and the girl had headed off to the club.
    “The guy was trying to lowball her. She couldn’t let it go for that price.”
    “You’re almost out of business. YOU sell the freakin’ painting!”
    “It was below market.”
    “When you have no money, there is no market!”
    “I know, I know.” Despite what he was saying to Steve, Dylan himself had been angry about the painting, mainly by the fact that she didn’t sell it. “Besides, the prospect of selling it wasn’t enough to solve our problems.”
    “No, it wasn’t. So are YOUtapping that?”
    “Who?”
    “Cat.”
    “Steve, stop with the Cat stuff. And the answer is a big “NO,” as in, ‘Not at all’.”
    “Come on?”
    “We had a thing, once upon a time, but probably Samantha needs some excitement in her life. Money’s tight now; the only excitement she’d be getting out of me would be cryptic crosswords puzzles and crock pots. Besides, I think she’s dating some artist now.”
    “I see the way she looks at you. Maybe you shouldn’t sell yourself short.”
    “I wouldn’t worry about that.”
    They were silent for a moment. Steve threw up his hands in surrender. “Okay, I’ll give you one more month. But after that, I’ve got to do something. The lease agreement says that.”
    “After six months, we are subject to eviction with two weeks notice. That’s Page 32, Paragraph two, the third line of your lease.”
    “Did you just look that up?”
    “Never mind that. We’ll get it done. Trust me.”
    Steve stood up and left the office. Dylan took a seat behind Samantha’s desk and picked up the art magazine that Steve had been reading. He was reading the magazine when Samantha walked into the office.
    “How did it go?”
    “It was like telling a joke at a funeral: not the happiest of occasions. I got us another month.”
    “That’s it?”
    “What did you expect? A ten-year furlough? He wants his rent.”
    “What are we going to do?”
    “Look, I have a plan. I’m freeing up some cash, so we can make it through for a while. And if I get this job, well, things will be a lot easier.”
    “Dylan, you’ve been more than I ever expected you to be. Thank you.”
    “Yeah, but Samantha, we have to sell some art.”
    “We will, Dylan, trust me.”
    “I do. But it’s gotta start soon.”
    “It will. We’re going to make it. Things will be better