The Fantasy

Chapter 1

My name is Ashley Wagner and I'm an overworked and slightly under appreciated art director in a hip downtown Los Angeles gallery.     In a nutshell, I'm the one who coordinates showings and deals with the ridiculously nit picky artists directly.

Sounds fun, right?

Despite all, I really am lucky.    This is my dream job.   In it, I've been privileged to meet some of the most influential artists of our time which is amazing but I also work my ass off.   It's not a fluff job like the movies make it out to be because many of these artists are pretentious assholes.    Difficult on every level, never satisfied and impossible to please.  

The artist I'm dealing with for the opening next week...he's one of the pretentiousness asshole kinds.  

In all honesty, if it wasn't for yoga, wine and my friends to keep me sane, I think I'd already be wearing a pretty white jacket and living in a padded room.  

It was late, almost ten o'clock, and I was still at the gallery.   Having sent my assistant home hours ago because she actually has a life outside of here, I was on my own.   My brain was fried but I pressed on.   There was so much left to do for the opening, I already felt there weren't enough hours in a day.  

'I'm never gonna get this done.'   I thought to myself,   'Maybe I'm too tired.'    I had been going over the same layouts for the last hour.    

Hearing my phone start to ring for the third time in less than ten minutes, one call right after the other, I irritatingly tossed my notebook to the floor and jogged across the gallery to answer it.    If it's one of the two people I think it is, they won't stop until I answer so I might as well just do it.

Yep, it's one of the two. 

"Hello."   I grumbled, not even trying to hide my crabby mood. 

"Come on Ash, you need to get out of the gallery.   Just come over."   Shannon roared,   "The party's sick!"

Jared was hosting a party for who knows what tonight and I had already declined on more than one occasion.    Even back when we were first talking about it and I saw the date, I knew I wouldn't be able to make it.    Neither one took 'no' for an answer back then and they weren't likely to take it now either.  

"Shan, I'm tired.   I worked twelve hour days all week trying to get the gallery ready for the Maxwell Snow opening next week.   I'm too exhausted."    I pleaded.

"Even more reason to come.   You need to relax and have some fun."  

"I just want to go home and spend the rest of the evening in the bathtub surrounded by bubbles with a bottle of wine and a very long straw."   

"Booorrriinnnggg."    He laughed.

"That's not boring, you jerk."   

"You can sit in a tub with a bottle of wine anytime."  

"I need to de-stress before Monday rolls around because next week is going to be even worse that this week was."  

"Not the answer I want to hear.    Come on, Ash."    He implored,   "Just stop by for a glass of wine then if you want to go, go."  

"No, I can't."  

"There's a lot of people here, you never know who you're gonna meet."   He insisted,   "Your dream guy might be here waiting for you." 

I couldn't help rolling my eyes,   "I can  just about guarantee that's not the case.   I've been to one of these parties before, remember?"