50
After seeing Juanita Cole’s debut exhibition, Garth felt another extremely talented artist breathing down his neck. It reminded him that he wouldn’t be on top forever, jolted him with a sudden drive. He didn’t want to lose a valuable moment. “Pashnak! It’s time to reclaim some lost glory. Enough sitting around.”
The assistant loved to see the renewed enthusiasm after Garth’s recent malaise. The artist had rushed through LOSS, put it into the exhibition hall that had contracted for his next work, then plunged into a new project. Garth bustled out of the studio, his hands scrubbed and wet.
“Set up a meeting with Stradley—he needs to start earning his commissions again.” Though still a commercial success, LOSS had drawn smaller crowds than the previous three works, and it had turned the artist’s attention to composing a biting commentary on another side of human nature, APATHY. “He’s been resting on our laurels for too damned long.”
Pashnak contacted the hype-meister’s offices, requesting a conference. When his image sprang into focus, Stradley spoke without even taking a breath. “Is Garth finished with it yet? Please tell me that’s what you’re calling about. We’ve got people already waiting.”
“He’s working like a maniac, Mr. Stradley. He asked me to set up an appointment with you. He wants to discuss some of the promotional efforts.”
Stradley frowned. “I hate it when creative types worry about business matters.” He glanced off to the side of the screen, already distracted by another emergency, another opportunity. “All right, send him around this afternoon. Three o’clock.”
“He’ll appreciate this, Mr. Stradley.”
“Well, I’d appreciate it more if he spent his time working on his exhibition instead of talking with me. I’m the one who’s supposed to be doing the talking.”
Ideas bubbled in Garth’s head as he waited in the lobby while the hype-meister finished last-minute arrangements for another client. The receptionist gave him a fizzy orange drink without being asked.
Stradley finally gestured for him to enter. Garth plopped into the self-form chair in front of the desk. Message lights blinked; handwritten notes lay draped on image cubes or tacked to the wall next to gaudy tropical images. Three COM filmscreens blazed at the same time, chewing through different subject-searches.
Garth rubbed his hands together. “After LOSS, I think we need to figure out a different strategy to make more waves when the new work comes out—”
“Garth, I should warn you I’ve got a busy afternoon.” Stradley looked pointedly at the chaos of ongoing plans scattered about his office. “You should remember too that Mr. Ob is no longer footing the bill for my services, nor is he able to apply BTL pressure on me.”
“Excuse me?” He stiffened. “I know Mr. Ob’s patronage might have helped me get attention at first, but my exhibitions have been successful enough to line a lot of pockets. After all the commissions I’ve given you, I’d think you could spare a few minutes to talk about my career, my comeback.”
“Comeback? I didn’t know you ever left the limelight. Sure, the LOSS numbers dipped a bit, but so what? You’re on solid enough ground.”
“But I want to keep building, not take a step backward. We’re going to have to continue pushing the envelope.”
The hype-meister sighed, as if perfectly familiar with the way this conversation was going to go. “Look, Garth, you’re not the only client I have, and you’re not the only client who makes me money. Right now, I just landed a hot follow-up contract for Juanita Cole that’s going to require most of my resources. I don’t have a whole lot of extra energy at this time.”
Garth reeled as if a bomb had just dropped on him. Folding his hands across his desk, shoving notes aside, Stradley explained in an oh-so-sincere voice, “I know what you’re thinking, what you’re feeling. I’ve seen a lot of careers.”
“Including mine.”
“Including yours. Every client is a challenge, every prospect a conquest to be made. But once the conquest is over, I’ve got to move on to take the next hill, develop a new property, make a new star.”
Garth frowned at him. “So, since my works are already sought after, you’re no longer interested in hyping me?”
Stradley forcibly kept his hands folded in front of him so he wouldn’t fidget or sort through unwanted messages. “It’s already done, the battle won. I don’t want to sit around and milk past accomplishments. What’s the challenge? That isn’t what I do.”
The receptionist popped her head through the doorway, signaling Stradley, but he waved her off. Garth wondered if the interruption had been staged. Give me ten minutes, then tell me I’ve got an important call. . . . “What more do you want, Garth? You’re already on top of the world.”
“But I’m not done.” He thumped the heel of his palm on the free-form chair to keep it from making him too comfortable. “We’ve already got the public’s attention, and we have to punch them in the gut harder than ever before!”
“And how are you going to make yourself interesting? Forgive the joke, my friend, but do you really expect the consumer base to be interested in a work called APATHY?” Stradley looked at him as if he were incredibly dense. “You’re famous, Garth—get that through your head! Your work will never be ignored. Critics and viewers will come without being dragged. Publicity runs on autopilot for you. Juanita Cole is the one who needs my help right now. She’s the skyrocket.”
Garth clenched his teeth, tasting sour orange from the fizzy drink he had finished while waiting. “So you just put my career on a shelf while you chase after another star.”
Stradley shook his head, and for the first time Garth saw real emotion behind the publicist’s eyes. “Why do you think you need my services at all anymore, Garth? I’m helping someone else get to the level you’re already at. I was there for you when you needed it, and now Juanita needs it a lot more than you do. She’s my challenge and my passion—and in a few years, no doubt, I’ll be having this same discussion with her, too.” He sighed and mumbled to himself, “Artists! They never learn.”
Feeling lost and disappointed, Garth stood, ready to leave. Stradley pawed through his gathered messages. “Look, Garth—Juanita’s coming for a meeting in just a few minutes. I’d like you to meet her. You’ve seen her show, right? It would be a good idea for you two to talk. She’s experienced your work, too, and was very impressed by it.”
Confusion buzzed around Garth. He backed toward the door. “No . . . no, sorry. Not interested.”
Stradley crossed his arms. “What are you afraid of?”
“Afraid? No, that’s not it. I’ve got to get back to work.”
Stradley flicked his head back and forth as he scanned all three of his COM screens. “We’re pushing the deadline on your new show, and it’s got to be finished on time. Even if it is APATHY. Don’t lose the brownie points you’ve earned from the past exhibitions.”
Garth departed from the hype-meister’s offices. Juanita Cole was due to arrive at any moment, and he left in a hurry so he wouldn’t risk meeting her.