"You turned down two hundred dollars from Regina mother-fucking Mills?" Ruby exclaimed, her voice raising a couple octaves from its usual timbre.
Emma rolled her eyes from her position on the couch, annoyed at how Ruby was standing in the middle of the living room, completely shocked at the fact that Emma had tracked Regina down simply to return the tip.
"I didn't want it, Rubes."
"So?! Neither did Regina! She's one of the richest women in the god damn country. The money she gave you is probably less than she makes in a minute and a half." Ruby rambled, now pacing.
"That's my point!" Emma yelled, standing up from the couch and waving her hands in the air to emphasize her point.
"What are you two fighting about now?" August grumbled, as he let himself into the apartment.
"Jesus, August. Make a habit of letting yourself into an apartment that's lived in by two women?" Ruby complained.
August gave a small shrug as he poured himself a glass of orange juice and took a long swig.
"Just making sure my two ladies have protection." He winked
"You're insufferable."
When August gave yet another shrug, Ruby released a long, loud, exasperated sigh and put her hands on her head.
"What's up her ass?" August asked Emma, motioning to Ruby, who was about two minutes from convulsing.
"Remember my last table that came in last night?" Emma prompted.
August nodded.
"Yeah, with the woman who basically had you collapsed onto the floor."
Emma chose not to acknowledge his statement.
"She left me a tip of a couple hundred dollars last night, and I just got back from returning the cash."
"You did what?" August screeched, spitting out his orange juice.
"Oh my god not you too."
"Exactly!" Ruby yelled, jumping up and down.
"Emma, that money could have covered groceries, or fixed your bike, or paid for your application to art school." August pointed out, still stunned.
"My bike is fine." Emma scoffed. "And we all know I wouldn't get into art school anyway."
"Your bike is a death trap with a motor on it. Should be in a salvage yard." Ruby muttered.
"Watch it." Emma warned.
Ruby gave an apologetic sigh and nodded.
"Tell August the second part."
"What second part? Did she offer to buy you a house and you turned that down too?"
"She asked me to dinner."
Again, orange juice spewed from August's mouth.
"Would you stop that?" Emma scowled.
"Please tell me you said yes." August pleaded.
"Get ready to be disappointed!" Ruby interjected.
"Emma!"
"You two are ridiculous." Emma sighed, leaving the living room and going into her bedroom.
"What're you doing?" Ruby asked, her tone making it obvious that she wasn't done arguing.
A second later, Emma emerged from her room with her backpack slung over her shoulder.
"One of my mom's work friends is married to a gallery owner downtown." Emma explained. "I'm passing out champagne to event guests tonight."
"What is that, three jobs now?" Ruby queried.
"Maybe if you had taken that tip- "August started.
"Bye! Love you, mean it." Emma yelled as she ran out the door of the apartment, slamming it behind her as a simultaneous "love you too" came from August and Ruby.
The drive downtown to the gallery was far too slow for Emma's liking. For most of it, she had to keep one foot on the ground as she inched her bike along with traffic. Of course, for Manhattan, traffic was a regular occurrence, but it still drove Emma nuts.
The gallery event didn't start until seven, but Emma was instructed to be there at three to assist with the set up. Normally, Emma would have never let her mother set up a job for her, but she was going to have a hard time covering rent as it was, and this way she was still working for the money she earned. She also made her mother promise that it was a one-time thing, and that they wouldn't speak of it again.
Finally, Emma came to a stop in the alley alongside the gallery, and she parked her motorcycle next to a dumpster, shielding it from the view of any foot traffic that may pass by. After taking a deep breath, Emma made her way into the gallery, and was immediately bombarded by the smell of new canvases and fresh paint. People in coveralls were wheeling huge, gorgeous paintings across the gallery floor while others were carefully raising other paintings into their places on the walls. An overwhelming sense of calm came washing over Emma, and her cheeks hurt from the smile stretching across her face.
"You must be Emma." A woman stated, walking quickly up to her.
"I am." Emma confirmed, offering her hand for the other woman to shake.
"It's nice to meet you, I'm Kathryn. My husband, David, works with your mother."
Emma nodded in understanding, and Kathryn led her through the gallery.
"So, how much do you know about art?" Kathryn questioned.
"A fair amount, I suppose." Emma responded, her eyes still roaming the gallery.
Kathryn let out a small chuckle.
"Based on your reaction, I'm guessing that you're being modest."
Emma blushed a bit and shrugged, and Kathryn continued talking.
"Okay, so your job is to roam, mingle, talk about the pieces. Maybe even suggest how good something might look in a vacation home in the south of France. Catch my drift?"
Emma's eyes widened and she looked at Kathryn with a surprised, confused expression.
"I thought I was passing out champagne?"
"You were." Kathryn smiled. "Until I saw how excited you got the second you walked in the door."
Emma swallowed nervously and offered Kathryn a sheepish smile.
"What size shoes do you wear?" Kathryn asked.
Emma looked down at her boots and her face burned a bright red. She was expecting to be given a catering uniform. She wasn't in any way dressed to be talking to elite gallery event guests.
"Um… seven and a half?" She squeaked.
"Perfect."
Without a second thought, Kathryn removed the black pumps she was wearing and handed them to Emma, who just stared at her in shock.
"Put these on, I have extras in my office. The pants you're wearing are good, and you don't need makeup. Go grab a black shirt from the catering staff and put that on. Then you'll be set."
Emma absorbed all of the information and nodded yet again, taking the shoes she was being offered.
"Once you're changed, go familiarize yourself with the gallery. Make me proud, Emma."
And with that, Kathryn turned around and walked away, leaving a beyond shocked Emma standing in the middle of the gallery.
"Don't fuck this up, Swan." She thought to herself, shaking her head to clear the fog.
With as much might as she could muster, Emma marched herself to the back of the gallery toward the catering station and grabbed a shirt. She had to ask one of the servers where the bathroom was so she could change, and once she shut the door behind her, she had to take several deep breaths to center herself.
"You've got this." She whispered, leaning onto the sink with both hands and looking into the mirror.
The fire that burned in her eyes made Emma smirk at herself. She did have this. Art was her forte. She was an artist before anything else, and she was damn good at small talk; a perk of being a waitress.
With her confidence now restored, Emma changed into the shirt she was given, tucking it into her skintight jeans. She unbuttoned three buttons and straightened the collar before letting her hair down, so it fell in natural, beautiful blonde waves. Luckily, she always carried lip gloss and eyeliner in her backpack, and although Kathryn told her that she didn't need any makeup, she quickly put both of them on.
Once she was fully changed and ready, Emma smiled at herself in the mirror. She looked damn good, and she looked like she knew exactly what she was doing. With one more tousle to her hair, Emma confidently strode out into the main floor of the gallery and began looking at each piece of art carefully. She was going to make this gallery more money in one night than they normally made in week.
Seven o'clock rolled around, and guest began to filter in. Emma did as she was instructed and roamed around, smiling brilliantly at the people that she made eye contact with, and commenting on paintings casually as she walked by someone who was staring at a piece intently. Emma came upon a woman staring at a painting with her head tilted to one side. She was average height, about two inches shorter than Emma. Her gorgeous brown hair fell just above her shoulders, and she stood confidently in a perfectly fitted, black wrap dress.
Emma decided that she was going to be her first solid interaction. Just as she was about to speak to the mystery woman, an older man touched Emma's shoulder and got her attention.
"Excuse me, miss." He said softly.
"Yes, sir?" Emma responded, giving the man her best, thousand-watt smile.
"What can you tell me about this painting?"
Emma looked at the piece that the man gestured to, and the gears in her head began turning. It wasn't even half a second before her lips caught up with her brain and she started talking.
"Well, it's an acrylic painting done by an Italian painter, Marco Barresi. Barresi started in the urban art scene, but he has recently transitioned into more galleries. He's incredibly popular in Italy, and while it's rare to find his work here in the States, he is very popular among many curators."
The man nodded, humming in thought.
"When you say rare, do you mean that not many people own his paintings?" He inquired.
Quickly, Emma understood what the man was asking, and she quickly translated his question into 'If I buy this, will it impress people?", and she smiled even wider.
"If someone were to buy this painting tonight, they would be one of the first people in The States to own his work." She clarified.
"Thank you, Miss. That's all."
Emma watched as the man swiftly approached one of the workers in charge of keeping track of sold art and motioned toward the piece that he and Emma were just talking about. The gallery employee's eyes drifted to Emma as he moved to the painting and placed a blue sticker on the name plate, signaling that it had been sold. With an impressed, respectful nod, he acknowledged Emma and went back to working.
Remembering the woman that she had originally had her eyes set on, Emma turned around, but the woman was gone. Slightly disappointed, Emma moved on to other guests, speaking to at least a dozen of them. By the time the show was half-way over, Emma had sold nine pieces. Kathryn, who had been lingering around discreetly, caught Emma's eye after the sixth sale and mimicked a bow, as if she were worshipping Emma.
No one could argue that Emma was in her element. All of her time spent studying art in her free time was finally paying off, and she was damn proud of herself.
"Quite the art buff, huh?"
Emma stiffened. She knew that voice. That slow, sultry, purposeful voice. Emma's eyes fluttered shut for a split second and she exhaled before turning around and locking eyes with none other than Regina Mills, who was slowly sipping her champagne. Emma noticed the flawless dress Regina was wearing, and her perfect, raven hair. Regina was the woman that Emma was going to approach earlier. Of course, she was.
"Sorry there isn't much left for you to buy. You might have to find somewhere else to flash your wallet." Regina quipped before walking away.
The way Regina chuckled after taking another sip of champagne made resisting an eye roll nearly impossible for Emma. When her ears focused on the sound of Regina's stiletto heels clacking against the marble floor, following her, Emma whipped around so quickly that Regina almost ran into her.
"Can I help you, Miss Mills?" She nearly hissed.
With a sigh, Regina stopped a man carrying a try of champagne and traded her now empty glass for two full ones.
"Call me Regina." She insisted. "Miss Mills is far too formal."
"Fine." Emma started. "Can I help you, Regina?"
"How old are you?" Regina asked.
"Twenty-three, why?" Emma sighed.
"My guess was twenty." Regina hummed, holding out one of the glasses for Emma. "Here, have a drink with me."
Again, Emma resisted the eye roll. She glanced over Regina's shoulder and saw that Kathryn was silently, but nonetheless excitedly urging Emma to take the drink. No doubt because everyone knew that Regina was the richest woman in the room. With a sour taste in her mouth, Emma took the champagne and took a generous swig.
"Tell me about this one." Regina requested, pointing at the painting behind Emma.
Emma turned around, and Regina watched the way her eyes lit up immediately.
"Oh, this one is my favorite." Emma breathed. "It's Jackson Pollock. Untitled, as most of his pieces were. I have no idea how the gallery got their hands on this one, I figured it would be in a museum somewhere."
"Why do you love it?" Regina asked.
Regina's tone had changed. It was soft now. There was no demand in her request, as if she thought listening to Emma speak was a privilege.
"The figures to me are so mesmerizing. It's different than Pollock's typical oil drip. This is harsh, almost rushed. I wonder what he was feeling in the time that he painted this."
"To me it just looks like splatters." Regina admitted, almost apologetically. "I never understood the method behind modern art."
"Maybe it's not how the paint is put on, as long as something is said." Emma whispered.
"Show me what you mean?"
Again, there was no demand in Regina's voice. With a small amount of hesitance, Emma stood behind Regina, peering over her shoulder. When she got close, the smell of Regina's perfume drowned her senses, and caused a fog to form in her head. Regina smelled of vanilla, lavender, and the slightest hint of leather. It took every ounce of Emma's self-control not to inhale deeply. Instead, she finished her champagne in one gulp.
"Emma?" Regina called.
"Hmmm?" Emma hummed in response, unable to tell if the buzzing in the back of her head was because she was a lightweight, or if it was because of Regina.
"Show me, please."
With a steady hand, Emma pointed out to the painting and motioned like she was tracing one of the strokes of the painting.
"Do you see how this movement starts heavy, but tapers off?" She asked.
Regina titled her head in thought, and Emma smiled. She liked this Regina. The inquisitive mind and soft requests. While businesswoman Regina still pissed her off to no end, Emma could see that maybe the woman before her wasn't all bad.
After a couple moments of contemplation, Regina shook her head.
"It just looks like lines to me." She huffed.
Emma was immediately taken aback by the disappointment in Regina's voice. She was genuinely trying to understand what Emma was showing her. She wanted Emma to teach her.
"Here, let me try something." Emma said softly, her hand moving to Regina's.
Regina stiffened at the contact immediately, but soon relaxed and allowed Emma to go about what she was doing. Slowly, Emma lifted Regina's hand with her own and mimicked the same motion that she had just done before.
"Look at this end." Emma instructed.
As if it was completely natural, Emma's free hand came to rest on Regina's hip, steadying both of them.
"One this side, the paint is thick, and the line is a wide stroke, yeah?"
Swallowing hard, Regina nodded in agreement.
"Now imagine that this line was just one rough, inspired slash across the canvas."
As she spoke, Emma moved their elevated arms across the air, as if they were slashing the canvas.
"He was angry." Regina stated.
Emma smiled and delicately dropped Regina's hand back down to her side and backed away, moving to stand beside Regina once more.
"Or sad, or maybe in even happy. It's not about what he was feeling so much as it is about what it makes us feel." Emma responded.
"What does it make you feel, Emma?"
Emma glanced to Regina's, their eyes locking tightly with one another. A gasp almost escaped Emma's lips at the intensity of Regina's gaze.
Before Emma could answer, Kathryn walked into the center of the room and cleared her throat to gather everyone's attention. Emma immediately spun to face Kathryn, ripping her gaze away from Regina abruptly. With a smile, Kathryn addressed the entire room.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I'm sorry to say that this concludes our event for the night, as it is nearly midnight. If there are any last-minute purchases, you can come to me or another member of the gallery staff within the next ten minutes and we will get that sorted out for you. If not, please have a safe drive home, and we are so very glad that you could join us this evening."
"Would I be bragging about my money if I bought this painting?" Regina asked, the corner of her mouth titling up into a smile.
Emma giggled lightly, a by-product of the champagne. Carefully, she glanced back to the painting looming over them and let out a content sigh.
"If you buy it, you have to promise me you'll take good care of it." She conceded.
"I promise." Regina responded before sauntering right up to Kathryn.
With more excitement than should be legal, Kathryn practically skipped up to the Pollock painting and placed a sticker onto the name plate. She thanked Regina one more time before turning to Emma.
"Emma, can I speak to you?" Kathryn asked.
With a smile, Emma nodded, and Kathryn lead her away. As she and Kathryn walked out of the main gallery, Emma glanced back at Regina, who was now writing a check for one of the gallery employees. Sensing eyes on her, Regina looked up from her checkbook, directly at Emma and gave the blonde a warm smile and a small wink. Emma returned the smile before turning around again to follow Kathryn into the back office.
As soon as the door to the back office as shut, Kathryn pulling Emma into a crushing hug.
"I have no idea what you did tonight, but I want you to do it at every event." Kathryn insisted.
"What?" Emma croaked.
"You sold more pieces in one showing than I have in three. You're magic, Emma. Absolute magic. I want you to work here, for me."
Without hesitation, Emma nodded, and Kathryn lit up.
"Perfect!" She exclaimed, leaning down on her desk and ripping a check from her checkbook.
She handed the check to Emma, who resisted the urge to look at it right away.
"I'll see you Monday morning at 10. You've got yourself a full-time gig, Emma."