[1.01] Starving Artist

“Angelica!”

“Angelica. You never leave. So I know you’re in there!”

The girl in question grumbled awake in her bed. Since her apartment was only a single room, there was no escape from the cantankerous rapping at her front door.

“Answer the door, Angelica. If I have to use my master key and find you hiding in there, this conversation will be a lot less friendly.”

“Uhgk, Coming!” Angelica called in return, forcing herself to sit upward, wrenching herself from her comfortable pillow. She took a second to adjust her clothing that had become disheveled in her sleep then hurriedly stomped over to the door, having to dodge the trash and other random items that were strewn across the floor, and she almost nearly stepped on her cat who was sleeping in one of the many delivery boxes that had fallen away from the unorganized mountain.

“Good morning, Ms. Gate.” The tenant greeted her landlord with as much enthusiasm as she could muster, forcing a smile on her face while squinting at the blinding light of the outdoors.

“If it can even still be called morning.” Ms. Gate didn’t reciprocate the fervor, already stuck in a mood that wouldn’t be so easily swayed. “Do you know what tomorrow is, Angelica?”

“Umm, first of the month?” She took her best guess.

“Yes,” the landlord huffed, unamused. “And it will be exactly three months since you’ve last paid your rent.”

“Ah, well, that’s, erm…” The wheels in Angelica’s mind slowly started to turn, trying to dig for an appropriate excuse that wouldn’t exacerbate Ms. Gate’s already pissy mood—coming up short.

“And I take it you still haven’t gotten a job?” The peeved woman piled it on.

“No, not since umm…” Angelica really didn’t want to explain it again.

“Not since you were fired from your last job for incompetence.” Ms. Gate finished the sentence for her.

“That’s not what happened!” The accusation spurred lingering trauma in the unemployed girl. “They, erm, it’s because they lied and-”

“I’m tired of hearing the same sob story, Angelica.” Ms. Gate’s patience was already running out. “Even if it’s true, and they blamed whatever accounting fraud they were committing on you as the intern, that was what, over a year ago now? It’s time to move on. You’re letting that fancy degree your mother paid for go to waste, and you have your actuary license. Surely there’s someone who would hire you who hasn’t heard about the stain on your record.”

“M-maybe…” Angelica muttered, hesitant to agree. “But I’ve really just been focusing on my art. It’s—I think it’s what I really want to do.”

“And how much money has your art made you, hmm?!” The landlord all but spat on her dreams. “Clearly not enough to pay your rent. Look, Angelica, I really don’t want to do this, but things have changed. It was out of respect for your mother, and your promising future, that I even rented to you in the first place since you were an unpaid intern. And it’s why I’ve been so lenient thus far. Yet even I have a limit to how many concessions I can make.

“Per your lease, three months unpaid rent is the limit. It means that if you have not paid off at least a month by tomorrow, then I have no real choice but to evict you. I’ll be kind, at least, and give you two weeks to move out, but once tomorrow hits, there will be no stopping the process even if you come up with the money.”

“W-wait, you can’t just do that!” Angelica started to panic. “Why are you only telling me now on the last day? You could have at least told me a few days ago!”

“I tried!” Ms. Gate insisted. “I’ve been calling and texting you non-stop for the last week! But you’ve ignored it all. Why else do you think I’d drive out here? You know I don’t live close by anymore!”

“Huh, but my phone hasn’t made any noise at all lately.” Angelica turned to look back into her dark apartment, seeing the light glow of the device charging on her nightstand. She rushed over to grab it, having to do another dance around all the obstacles. “Oh, umm, I see…” she hesitantly reported when she made it back to the door. “I guess they shut off the service.”

“Hah, that’s…” The landlord could both laugh and sigh at her tenant’s pathetic life. “What about your mother, Angelica? I know it’s not my place to, but she stopped bringing you up the last few times I’ve seen her. Does she even know what state your life is in? Could you reach out to her for a loan or handout? As I said, I’d really rather not do this, Angelica, but if you can’t—”

“No, I can pay! Just… give me until the end of the day. $500 for a month, right?”

“$625,” Ms. Gate corrected. “Prices went up at the beginning of the year, as was stated in the letter I sent you. And you’d know if you’d been paying. But fine. I’ll be back after work, Angelica. If you have the money then, I will let this slide for another month. However, I’ll expect two month’s rent at least by then. This is your last chance.” With that stern warning, the landlord departed.

Angelica stepped inside, closed the door, pressing her back against it as she let out a sigh of relief. Unfortunately, the problem was still far from resolved, but at least the angry woman was gone. When she first moved in, Ms. Gate was a very kind landlord, but ever since Angelica had lost her job, she’d become increasingly bitter toward the tenant. It was understandable to an extent, but still frustrating to no end.

In an effort to be rid of the problem, she went over to her desk and clicked on her computer. It was slow to load as always, something she would certainly replace if she had the money. But unfortunately, the last time she had a good amount of cash, it had been spent on a new drawing pad she wanted, instead of many other important things she’d been neglecting, like rent and apparently her phone bill, which she had thought was on an auto-pay family plan with her mother. Another thing to dig into on a later day.

The first thing she did, though, was check on the webcomic site she posted to, as was her routine everyday after first waking up, whatever hour that may be. “Oh sweet, a new reader. And… they read through every chapter already!” Angelica mentally patted herself on the back after checking her comic’s stats. While the girl dabbled in many forms of art, this was her main one. However, she’d regularly say that she was just an artist, since it was far simpler than explaining to many that she posted comics on the internet for free.

Posting under the pen-name “Gelic,” hers was a cozy comic serial called Merlina’s Boutique. It was about a girl who lived in a magic town but had no magic of her own. She ran a combination tea and technology shop, helping the magic folk adapt to modern conveniences, and all the shenanigans that ensued. While Gelic’s readership wasn’t… amazing, it wasn’t entirely absent, either, giving her enough parasocial enjoyment through comments and feedback as a replacement for most other human interaction.

With that little bit of joy to start her day, she got back to the problem at hand, starting out by checking her bank account. Angelica could only frown at the number; not as terrible as it could be, but still not enough, about half of what she’d need. “Damn it!” Her frustration grew, dwelling on how to actually get the remainder.

Angelica’s thoughts were partly allayed by sudden fluff brushing against her legs. “Sorry, did I wake you, Cherub?” She reached down to pet her cat, an orange tabby she’d adopted as a kitten right after moving into this apartment a few years ago. His original name at the shelter was Mikey. However, after having him for a while, she renamed him to Cherub since he was always rubbing against her chair, as he was currently doing. And he was also definitely a bit chubby, quickly spoiled. A lot of her miniscule money went to his food.

“Oh, maybe the new reader left a donation!” Angelica had a sudden spark of hope, and she went to check her donation page. But alas, there was nothing, not a single donation in her year or so of posting her comic. She didn’t let it get to her, though. Since people were clearly enjoying it, that was enough, even if it didn’t help her current situation. Yet not all hope was lost!

Despite her landlord’s words, Angelica had actually made some money as an artist. Besides drawing comics, she also did art commissions. While still getting her name out there, it paid a decent amount each month—her current main source of income, and she had a few regulars that often requested quick doodles. On occasion, she’d get a bigger commission for book covers or personal art that someone wanted to hang in their homes. While she charged less than most, they’d still pay a few hundred each time.

And she currently had a finished commission that was just waiting for payment before sending the final files. It was just enough to cover the gap needed for her rent as well. However, it had been completed for weeks now. Her client had stopped responding to her entirely, like they’d suddenly vanished off the planet. It wasn’t the first time she’d been ghosted, but it still sucked, especially since they really seemed to love all the progress posts she’d sent. She sent them one final message, with a bit of begging included, but sadly, it would probably take a miracle, and be stupid and negligent of her to rely on it.

So Angelica checked her current commission requests. There were a few of her regulars wanting icons or small pictures. Regrettably, even if she asked them all to pay upfront, it wouldn’t be enough, and the guilt would get to her. Those weren’t the only commissions she’d received, though. There was a whole separate never-ending pile that continued to grow, ones she’d ignored entirely.

Ever since she’d debuted as an artist, she’d constantly receive these commissions. They paid very well, far more than she’d ever charged any client, and the requestors were always so very polite, to the point that she felt bad not responding. The issue came from what they wanted, drawings and paintings more… scandalous in nature. And the specifics of the requests often left her either blushing, disturbed, or deeply confused, most often a combination of the three. And while Angelica wasn’t inherently against such things, she also wasn’t sure she wanted to sell her soul in that way just yet.

Given the present conundrum, however, she did seriously consider it. Unfortunately, she just couldn’t pull the trigger. Even after finding one that wouldn’t be too bad and would cover the costs, there’s no way she could complete the piece by the end of the day in a way that her artist’s pride would allow. Sadly, that basically ruled out commissions as a viable way to make the money presently required.

The girl glanced around her small apartment, looking for a few items she’d need for her last ditch plan. It took a moment, finding them difficult to spot under the other mounds of junk. After confirming their existence, she headed into the bathroom to get more presentable. Because regrettably, for this method of making money, she’d have to go outside.

Angelica was just planning to do a quick comb and throw on some deodorant, but after staring at the grungy state of her blonde hair for a moment in the mirror, she decided a full shower was in order. It was so frizzled and matted that the locks were all bunched around the base of her neck when they usually extended down to her shoulder-blades. And there was a good chance she’d forgotten to bathe yesterday, and the day before… Actually, when was the last time she’d showered?

No matter. It was time to scrub! Angelica made sure to cleanse every inch. And when she was done, she went and dug through her piles of clothes. Originally, they’d been divided between clean, and not clean. But since she hadn’t done laundry in some time, none of it was clean anymore, so she scavenged for the cleanest, or at least what didn’t smell. With what was available, she made sure to bundle up properly since it was still the tail-end of winter, getting a taste for the brisk outdoors during the earlier exchange.

After grabbing her easel and bag of dwindling art supplies, along with a snack bar, Angelica left the apartment, hopefully not for the last time. Before departing the premises, she glanced at the other doors. The complex was a small building with four units, two double bedrooms and two studio apartments. However, she’d been the only tenant for some time. Everyone else had moved out for the past year for one reason or another, and Ms. Gate was seemingly making no attempt to fill them again. Perhaps the landlord had gotten an offer for the property or lot. It’d make sense why she was suddenly so adamant about rent and lease agreement.

Angelica made the short walk to the bus station, one of the reasons she’d wanted that apartment in the first place thanks to its relative convenience to many things, besides just the overall cheapness. She sat down at the bench and forced her second smile of the day, greeted by a familiar face. “Hi mom.” It wasn’t actually her mother, but rather a small billboard with the woman’s face along the bus stop’s railing.

“Re-elect Corticia Hallow for Treasurer!” That was the simple message written along with a picture of the woman standing proudly. The daughter wondered why they even bothered with it. Her mother would undoubtedly win in a landslide. Corticia Hallow, 51, Treasurer for the last nineteen years. The woman who had gotten the City of Vulgrest entirely out of debt with her reforms and policy changes, more beloved than any other elected official, even the mayor.

Meanwhile, she was Angelica Hallow, 25, unemployed. After being ousted from her internship at a large corporation, her future prospects had all withered away, along with her relationship with her mother—too ashamed of her own failures to regularly stay in touch. But it wasn’t all bad. It had allowed her to fully explore and ignite her own passions. Now she had to work hard to make a living off of them. Surely it would happen someday if she just kept trying.

While glancing guiltily at her mother’s picture for a while longer, she noticed that it was actually a new billboard. The last time she’d taken the bus there had been some graffiti on it, some of that weird graffiti that had been popping up everywhere. It wasn’t art or anything like that, but rather writing characters or symbols that no one could read. The media was blaming it on teens, saying they’d made up their own language, and were using it to say stupid or hateful things to the unaware masses. To her, they kinda looked like something she’d draw in her webcomic for magical nonsense.

The thought faded away when the bus came. Fortunately, due to her mother’s connections to the city, Angelica had a full travel pass for all forms of public transportation: bus, subway, even trains to and from the city if she ever needed to go somewhere. For today, it was just a short trip to the city center, the touristy part, not the governmental sector. Unfortunately, they were still pretty close together, so it meant Angelica would need to be on edge about her mother suddenly appearing if she had a sudden urge to go on a walk out of her way.

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And thankfully, there were no other artists or performers in the center that day, so there was no competition, and she could post up at her favorite spot. While she hadn’t done this recently, it was frequent enough in her past that she knew the good spots from the bad. Angelica had even tried it out a few times back when she was still in college and just starting to dabble in art, back when she was more social and the idea was a lot less anxiety inducing.

After plopping down on some steps, across from a wide bollard where clients could sit comfortably if they wanted, she pulled out a pre-prepared sketch. It was of herself, an example of what she could do. When first starting out, she’d do a live drawing of one of the random citizens loitering around the area, but quickly found out that some people didn’t appreciate having their likeness depicted, even if it was flattering.

Angelica displayed the art next to her setup, along with a sign with prices of the different types of works she could provide: portraits, caricatures, and even requests where they could describe anything and she’d draw it to the best of her ability from her own imagination. Sadly, the rates were far lower than they should be, meaning she’d be there for a while, but the art had to be an amount people would be willing to spend on a whim. It wasn’t long until she lured in her first customer, so she forced the biggest smile of the day yet. Time to get to work.