Second Chance (35 page)
He’s walking down the block towards the gallery
,
but I’m stalling
.
I remind Gray I’ve never done anything like this before
.
He tells me he has my back.
“Just be
your
confide
nt
self
,” he says
.
“H
old your head up high and make them think they should be thanking you for even considering them
.
It’s all in the attitude.”
N
ormally
I
am confident
,
but it’s different with my photography
.
It’s like handing over a piece of my
soul
to be criticized
.
I look through the glass windows at elegant black and white photos on the walls
outlined in sleek, black
frames
, showcased under bright spotlights.
“Maybe I should start smaller,
”
I say
.
“I could
put up
some prints
in
a coffee shop, or a restaurant or a Laundromat.”
Gray stops at the door and looks at me
.
“A L
aundromat?”
I shrug. “Maybe it’s an untapped market.”
“If people can’t afford a washer and dryer, I doubt they invest in much original artwork,” he informs me as he opens the glass door
.
I tuck
my portfolio
under my arm and take a deep breath
.
We walk into a room that smells upscale, like polish and perfume and the lighting is amazing and I’m way out of league
.
“
Can I help you
?
”
a woman behind the counter
says to us
.
She’s older, with curly gray hair and long silver
earrings
that sway
back and
forth
.
She regards me carefully, her eyes scanning my clothes and my face
.
I walk up to the counter and set my portfolio down between us, next to
a
glass vase full of
colorful
wild flowers
.
A few quiet seconds
crawl
by
.
“That’s a beautiful flower arrangement,” I finally say
and point to the vase
and
the woman thanks me
.
I
start to turn around because I can’t go through with this, but Gray
blocks me with his leg and keeps
my feet pinned between
him and the counter
.
I take a deep breath
.
“
My name’s
Dylan and
I’m
interested in showcasing some of my photography here,” I
say quickly
so I can get it all out
.
She
smiles at me, but it’s a sympathetic smile that makes me cringe
.
“We aren’t looking for new clients at the moment,” she says
.
“There’s a waiting list for wall space so we have to be very selective.”
She doesn’t even
glance
at my album
.
“We also only take photographers with professional experience,” she says
.
“The owner makes the final decision, but I screen the photos first.”
My mouth is drying up
.
Is it just me, or is there not enough oxygen in this room
?
And why is it suddenly a hundred degrees
?
I
nod and
turn to leave
again,
but Gray grabs my arm tight and holds me in place
.
“Why don’t you at least take a look?” Gray
asks
and slides the portfolio closer to her
.
“Before you pass
up an opportunity
?”
He squeezes my arm with encouragement before he lets it go
.
I figure, at the very least, Gray is touching
me again
.
It’s not a complete
waste
of an
afternoon
.
She glances down at the
binder
and back at me
.
She asks me where I went to school for photography.
“Uh,” I stammer
.
“Mesa Community College,” I say
. S
he waits for me to continue so I lie and tell her I also had an apprenticeship with a nature photographer in California
,
but he’s pretty exclusive so she’s probably never heard of him
.
In my defense, this is partly true
.
I spent a few days traveling around with my friend Jake, in
Shasta
County
.
He just didn’t happen to be a professional and I was the one training him.
“How old are you?” she ask
s
.
I bluff.
“Twenty-three.”
I
widen
my shoulders
as if
this will
make me look older
.
She makes a ticking sound with her tongue that is god-awful intimidating
.
“That’s
pretty
young
,” she says
.
“Most of our photographers are
veterans in the business
.
All of them have some sort of background,
either
work or online.
”
“She
also
works with me,” Gray
adds
, “
for a magazine.” He gives her
his
most
charming smile
.
I notice her features soften a littl
e; it’s a
calming e
ffect Gray’s smile generally has on wom
e
n
.
I step in while we have a window of a chance.
“Right,” I say
.
“We work for—”
“An independent weekly,” he says
.
“Published in—”
“
Wisconsin
,” I finish.
Gray
tightens his lips
together and glances at me.
“Interesting,” she says
.
“What brings you
two
all the way to
New Mexico
?”
Gray starts
.
“We’re
…
doing a spread on—”
“
Pueblo
community life in the Southwest,” I
finish
.
Gray and I both shut our traps before we have to spread another lie
,
but this woman looks
amused
.
She
picks up my portfolio and starts to flip through the pictures
.
I
describe the theme, that
it’s a
series of shots taken
from
a
squirrel’s perspective and her face
is
deadpan
.
She looks up at me and I wait
for her to call me
a
liar and throw me out of her store
.
Maybe first she’ll clonk me on the head with my album
.
She
opens
her mouth to comment and
every muscle in my neck tense
s up
.
“How much do you charge for your prints?” she asks
.
I stare back at her and my mouth falls open
.
Gray poke
s
me in the back
.
“It varies,” I say
.
I have no clue
.
“
We don’t have space for these in the gallery
right now
, but I
know someone who
would love
them
.
She’s obsessed with squirrels
.
I think she feeds half of this city’s
population.” I expect her to give me a phone number
,
but instead she just yells.
