It wasn’t a question, but I somehow felt put on the spot. Pressured to come up with something to say that would placate the friend before me, who’d turned into some sort of boss along the way. “I’m still settling in.”

Lara sighed. “I knew this was a mistake. I think you should come back to New York. I found a therapist who specializes in this kind of thing. He usually works with athletes under a tremendous amount of pressure, but I told him about your situation—”

“What the hell? You don’t spread my business around. That’s rule number one.” Over the past couple of years, I’d started to wonder whose back Lara truly had.

Her expression hardened. “I didn’t share anything that wasn’t public knowledge.”

“I don’t care. Look, you need to back off. I need a break. I’m not planning on showing anytime soon. Maybe ever. Focus on other clients. I’ll let you know if anything changes.”

Anger lit her features. “Brody—”

I hit end before she could say anything else. A moment later, my computer rang again. “What?” I barked.

Carson’s face filled the screen. “Geez, who pissed in your Cheerios?”

I blew out a long breath. “Who do you think?”

He made a clucking sound as he pulled a cigarette out of his pack. “I told you that you should’ve fired her years ago. You know she has to be the one who outed you to the media.”

I picked up a pencil from my desk and spun it between my fingers. I’d always thought Carson was being dramatic with his accusations, but I was beginning to wonder if they had merit. For years, I’d prided myself on keeping my anonymity. So many street artists did. When there was a chance you could get arrested for your art, it was better if no one knew your face or name. But somehow, a handful of years back, I’d been exposed. It could’ve been any number of people, but Lara was certainly one of the suspects.

I leaned back in my chair. “She’s one of my oldest friends. And, honestly, what would she have to gain?”

“She wanted you to go public. Magazine spreads. Interviews. Gallery openings.”

I snorted. “Well, that didn’t work out too well for her because I never do interviews, and I rarely go to openings. Even my own.”

Carson blew out a stream of smoke. “Doesn’t mean she ever stops trying.”

I was quiet for a moment. “I told her I might not show again.”

“I knew your head was in a bad place, but your work is your life.”