Lenae Grims tucked her hands deeper into her coat pocket to still her shaking hands rather than to stop the cold. It was a cold Monday morning which wasn't unusual in Los Angeles.
It had been a rough couple of months for her; finishing college, moving to this city and finding a suitable apartment with her best friend, Janette, then throwing her almost dying painting career into this mix. It was enough to make anyone tired.
The light turned red, and she crossed onto the other side of the busy street. It had rained the previous night and the sidewalk was still wet. She increased her pace because she was way behind time, she felt she was way behind time in everything and was now struggling to catch up.
"It feels like my dreams have left me behind", she muttered under her breath and pressed her hands deeper into her pockets.
None of her artworks had been accepted by any agency, and now she had to rely on private marketing which wasn't paying off as much. She was content using social media for now to do her promotions and marketing and, even that wasn't having a lot of engagements.
"I can't continue living like this," She said loudly, making heads turn towards her. She wasn't bothered about it. All she cared about was making more money from her work.
Finally, she stood in front of the coffee shop. It was what some would call small, but it still served its purpose. She heaved a sigh and walked in. It was already time for her to resume her shift,
Once inside, she did a long scan of the place, adjusting the tilted tablecloths. The coffee shop had a nineties feel to it, majestically. It made her feel like she was living in an old Barbie movie. The same coffee place that had served artists like herself was where she now worked as a server. Life has a good sense of humor, doesn't it?
"Hey," Janette called from across the counter, snapping her from her reprieve. "You're late." She added, "Customers will start flooding in any time from now for the evening's round of work".
Janette Cruz, Lenae's best friend, was an auburn-haired beauty with dark green eyes that looked like they held more secrets than a 28-year-old should.
Lenae was tired, she'd rather paint all day than stay there serving coffee and sweets to fellow artisans and talented people. "Can I at least have a bottle of free wine? Or an all-expense-paid trip? I'm sick and tired of all this." She added, pouting her full lips.
"Don't let it get to you too much. You know we're doing all we can. We're making progress, more people know us now."
"And yet not one of them has patronized us in the way that we deserve. We're not getting any older."
Janette wrapped her arms around Lenae, trying to comfort her. "We're in this together, it'll pay off. I'm sure of it."
Lenae was the one to complain, Janette thought to herself. While she had always held out on her own, fending for herself in her lack while Lenae, on the other hand, had a mother who cared about her. Her chest tightened in anger, but she continued to pat Lenae's back as she always did.
"We'll be fine honey. We will, I'm sure of it." She reassured Lenae, rolling her eyes.
Lenae felt safe and reassured in her best friend's arms. They had been each other's backbone since college. " Thank you. I won't trade our bond for anything in the world." Lenae said, sniffing back tears.
They both got back to work, and Lenae tied her apron around her waist.
Janette was still boiling on the inside. She's 29 and I'm 28, shouldn't she act better than I do? Janette thought to herself.
On the other hand, Lenae was grateful she had a friend she could confide in and bare her heart to, without having to act all put together and confident all the time.
"Are we still submitting our paintings to the gallery in the next building today?" Lenae asked, putting her hair into a bun.
"Sure," Janette responded as she took the doughnuts out of the oven. The bell dinged and they both looked up at each other. "It's time." They chorused. The breakfast crowd had begun to flood in. They adjusted themselves and got to work.
After work that night, Lenae and Janette held hands as they walked through the gallery's doors. They sighted a man in the hallway.
"He looks like he works here." Janette pointed out, and Lenae nodded in agreement. They both hurried towards him. "Hi."
He turned to face them, "Hello."
Janette took the lead, noticing Lenae's uneasiness. If she was as cowardly as Lenae, she would never rise to the top, she thought to herself. "We're artists, painters. We'd love to speak to somebody about our work."
"Do you have pictures?"
"Sure," Lenae responded, suddenly more confident. She handed him her cell and showed him the pictures of their paintings. "That's called 'Let me breathe'." She explained as she noticed him lingering on a picture.
"Who painted this?" He asked.
"I did," Lenae said, and Janette held back a grunt.
"I painted the one before that," Janette said, scrolling back so he'd focus on her painting instead.
"You're both talented. Your names please?" He asked.
"I'm Lenae Grims. Sorry we cut straight to the point, we thought you were about to leave." Lenae lied and he nodded in response.
"I'm Janette Cruz."
"And I'm Henry Willows. I own the gallery."
Lenae and Janette exchanged glances, completely taken aback. They never expected the owner of the place to be in faded jeans and a tee.
"Nice to meet you, sir." They chorused
"Just call me Henry. And the thing is, we're really at a tight spot right now and we're not taking more paintings. But you can check back in the coming months, and we could have a place for you both by then, okay?"
"Okay," Janette responded, obviously disappointed.
"Thank you for your time. It was lovely to meet you, Henry." Lenae said, covering up for Janette. She held her hand and made their way out of the gallery.
"Let's have your favorite tonight," Lenae told Janette, "I'm sure you'll feel better after that," Janette smirked and slightly squeezed Lenae's hand.
They stopped at a shop to get some ice cream as they always do after work, and Lenae called Janette's attention to the TV screen. "That man is cute," Lenae said, pointing at a nice-looking man in a tuxedo addressing the press.
"He is," Janette agrees. "He's also the CEO of Bloom."
"For real?" Lenae said, completely taken aback. Bloom was a big name, the biggest name in the marketing industry. One contract with them and any artist's life will never remain the same. "Won't it just be amazing if they could accept our paintings?"
Janette let out a laugh. "Don't be such a joy killer," Lenae responded.
"Sure they can. They can. Sorry."
"That's better. Just wait. One day, we'll both be big names in this industry too."
Janette nodded, smiling a little. You wish, Janette thought to herself. She was Lenae's best friend on the outside, but she wasn't ready to become big with her. For all she knew, she was more talented than Lenae, and she must get recognized first.
Meanwhile, Ray Stevenson, CEO of Bloom was in another world of his own. He tried to blink as more pictures were taken of him. "Thank you, I look forward to a bigger season." He added, ending his speech with a wave.
Cheering followed from his onlooking workers as his men tried to escort him to his car through the press.
Tim, Ray's assistant, followed behind him as they made it out of the press. "You have a meeting with Mister Gary in five minutes. He just texted that he would be represented by his wife, he had to be out of town." Tim added as they stepped into the car.
"Then cancel the meeting. You know I don't deal with women. Tell him I'm out of town. Next please." Ray had a peculiar aversion towards women.
"Yes sir," Tim responded, texting his response immediately. "Next, we have to meet with your father at the hospital. He's been asking to see you."
"Okay." Amid all the voices, one voice mattered the most to Ray, and that was the voice of his father. Even though his mother was nothing to write home about, even until her death, he sincerely hoped that his father would beat this sickness.
Ray looked out the window as the tall buildings sped past them. "Many times, I wish my mum had died through illness instead of an accident."
Tim looked up, completely amazed that Ray had shared his feelings. Ray was always so cold and professional to everyone around him. "I'm sure she suffered enough before she died."
"Not as much as she deserved to," Ray responded, shifting to his seat, still looking out the window.
Although Tim had known all about Ray's history over the last few years, Ray never spoke to him about it. It was a good thing to see Ray warming up to him after working together for almost five years.
Ray's face grew back cold, as normal, as they drove into the hospital's premises. "Please see to it that we are out of here in the next fifteen minutes. I wouldn't want him to see that I feel sorry for him. Let's try to keep him happy."
"Yes sir," Tim responded, adjusting his tie and rushing out to get the door for Ray. Ray's dad had been rushed to the hospital after a serious episode. He had been in the hospital for almost two weeks.
As Ray stepped into his dad's hospital room, a flood of emotions ran down his spine. He remembered how well his dad treated him and how much he had always wanted his dad to be proud of him. "Let him live long enough to see me bloom." Ray wished under his breath as he drew a chair closer to his dad's bed.
Mister Stevenson had a particular peaceful aura to him. He was always so full of life and vigor. "The cancer is to blame," Ray said, looking up at Tim. Tim jerked back to reality. He had been thinking about Ray's schedule.
"I'm sorry sir, I wasn't listening sir." Tim tucked his phone away in his pocket and focused on his boss.
"I was saying that my dad's no longer as vibrant as he used to be."
Tim felt pity for Ray. "I believe he'll win this fight, sir," Tim reassured Ray, even though he wasn't feeling an ounce of faith.
Mister Stevenson opened his eyes to see his son and a weak smile spread across his face. "Hey, son," he said softly. Ray locked his fingers with his dad's and returned a smile.
"How are you feeling today?"
"I feel like I can race a horse." They all burst out in laughter. Mister Stevenson had always had a great sense of humor. You can say Ray got his sense of humor from him, but Ray had long buried his humor under his childhood trauma that he hated talking about.
"The doctors say there's hope," Ray said and Tim nodded in support. "It's good to see you, Dad."
Mister Stevenson nodded, gently rubbing his hands on Ray's. Tim checked his watch and fifteen minutes was almost up. "Mister Ray, I'm sorry, but it's almost time for the meeting."
Ray looked up at Tim and faked a frown. "I'm sorry I have to leave Dad." Mister Stevenson nodded in approval, "You be a good boy, son."
"I'll come to see you again Dad. I have already started making plans to take you home, so you can continue your treatments there". Ray kissed his dad on the cheek and left the room.