call_me_chas (call_me_chas) wrote in morningstar_mnr, @ 2008-03-10 18:34:00 |
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Entry tags: | andras, andy, chas |
Gallery – morning - Andy Charlie OTA
One of the first jobs on a Monday morning – after opening up, checking the stock, cleaning the public and private areas and making a cup of coffee – was opening the mail. Charlie usually quite looked forward to this because he got catalogues to browse, letters from friends and cheques to cover purchases, but lately most of the mail had been much less fun.
Today was no exception. Mimi Tanaka’s gallery refurbishment was costing an arm and a leg, Amanda Gruppenhoos was demanding that he drop his commission from the standard twenty per cent to fifteen and Stevie Saviello was demanding that a] he come to New York to attend one of her exhibition launches and b] where were the pictures he had promised her.
As he opened envelopes, perched on the edge of the desk he passed the contents on to Andy so she could have her say as well.
“Oh,” he said. “Um - Coo’s changed the insurance company for her staff.”
“Why’s that?” Andy asked, taking the sheets of paper. “How much? Christ! That’s a lot.”
“It’s for – er - George,” he whispered. “HIV – the company we’ve been using won’t cover him. I told Coo to find someone who would. I didn’t realise the premiums would be this much though.” He shrugged. “Oh well, it’s necessary. I just don’t think I can afford to extend the same cover to everyone. The other galleries will have to stay with the old company.”
Andy made a face. “Is that fair?” she asked. “Okay I’m not planning to get ill, and the provision you make is good, but that,” she pointed at the policy he was holding, “looks much more comprehensive. Nicer hospitals too.”
Charlie grimaced. “I know,” he said. “I’m expecting trouble about it but Andy – what can I do?”
Andy shrugged. “Keep your head down and hope for the best. I won’t tell anyone but you can bet Marion will find out sooner or later and then ...”
“Yeah,” Charlie groaned. “She’s already grumbling enough about the damn lights. Oh what the ...?”
From the back of the gallery came a rending crash and white dust billowed across the recently polished floor.
Charlie grimaced at Andy and ran through the middle gallery and winced to see the polythene screen hanging in shreds and the aluminium scaffolding in a heap.
“What happened?” he demanded, seeing the builders gang standing looking at the debris.
“We were taking it down and it fell over,” the foreman said with a shrug. “Took out the side of the archway on this side. Good job no one was hurt or we mighta hadta sue.”
“Sue who?” Charlie said, appalled, clambering over the framework to inspect the damage. “Jeez you’ve gone right through the old plaster. Maybe I ought to sue you?”
“Don’t be like that,” the foreman said with a grin. “Look we’ll do you a special price on the wall. Take out all the old lath, reconstruct the arch, replaster, make good. No choice but to do the whole wall see. It’s a job for an expert. Look ...” He grabbed some of the cracked laths and began to pull cracking the plaster still further and sending some of the old packing material flying.
“No!” Charlie said and interposed himself between the builder and the building. “No – you won’t do the whole wall. As you said it’s a job for an expert. Now you carry on with what you were doing and I’ll clear this mess up and make good.”
“Yeah but ...” The foreman caught the look in his eye and backed off shrugging. “Oh all right. You’ll see. It’s harder than it looks. C’mon guys let’s get this lot on the truck.”
Charlie scowled at the hole in the wall and stooped to pick up the tattered pieces of newspaper that had been crammed in around the edges. He made a face as plaster and brick dust soiled his hands and carried the bits through to the desk to dump in the bin.
Andy was on the phone, listening intently. “No – um – no, we didn’t know. Yes, I’ll tell him. Thank you.”
She put the phone down and stared at Charlie, who paused, registering that the last few folded sheets in his hands were a heavier weight than newsprint, before saying, “Oh – shit! What now?”
Andy met his eyes apprehensively. “That was Amesh. The Clinton Agency aren’t going to pay up. They say your arrangement was with Scott Clinton personally, not with the company and they see no reason why they should repay the loan.”
“You’re joking,” Charlie said. “Andy – you HAVE to be kidding.”
Andy slowly shook her head. “No. I’m sorry Chas. What – what are we going to do?”
“I don’t know,” he murmured, staring at the wad of paper in his hands. Slowly he began to coax it out of its folds. “Sell pictures?” he suggested. “And I have a wall to plaster. Okay,” he let the papers spring back on themselves, “let’s get to it. Don’t worry, Andy, love,” he said with completely false confidence, “I’ll sort it out – but, please, just don’t tell anyone, eh? Promise? Cross your heart?”
“Promise,” Andy said and watched him head for the office with a sigh.