Chapter 47 Mission: Daniel Harper
\-Lilith-
The man straightened me, and suddenly, all that handsomeness my brain hadn’t fully processed came into focus.
He wore a baseball cap, a loose white plaid unbuttoned shirt with the sleeves folded to his forearms, baggy pants, and sneakers, carrying a bag of takeout like he hadn’t just caught me with those hands.
God, he was sculpted to perfection.
Everything about him looked put together without trying, the broad shoulders, the strong jaw, and the kind of face that made you pause without knowing why.
When he looked at me, I caught a flash of warm, almond-shaped eyes beneath the brim of his cap, and then I was already annoyed at myself for noticing.
“Are you alright?” He began, his voice smooth and calming at once.
“Yeah.” I nodded, my voice barely audible.
For a second, we just stood, until the creepy man’s voice filled the space. “I need money.” He drawled, his arm outstretched.
I nearly jumped out of my skin, but the man in front of me seemed completely unfazed. He casually reached into his pocket, pulled out his wallet, and handed the man a $20 note, then helped him to his feet.
“That should do it,” he said kindly, “but I’ve told you to stay off the landing, you’re scaring the ladies, Joe.”
“Sorry,” Joe murmured, shuffling down the stairs. I blinked, silently hoping he wouldn’t trip and fall to his death.
“He’ll be fine,” the man murmured, as if he had read my mind.
I nodded, and we stood there again, the awkward pause stretching.
“Um…are you here to see someone?” he asked quickly.
“Yes. Yes, I am.” I smiled a little too brightly. “I’m looking for a Daniel Harper?”
His brows furrowed, and his expression shifted. “And you are?”
“I’m Lilith. Lilith Ashford. You?”
“Daniel. Danny Harper,” he said flatly.
“Oh.” I murmured, blank for a moment.
My heart leaped. He is Daniel?!
Quietly, he walked past, climbing the next flight of stairs.
“You’re from the Van-Ash Art Gallery?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said, following behind. “My mother is the director. She sent me on her behalf.”
“Oh.” He murmured. Something shifted in the air—I could feel it—but he stayed silent till we reached his apartment door.
“I didn’t know you were coming in today,” he said, fumbling with his keys.
“It was sort of an impromptu outing. I apologize for not reaching out first,” I explained, trying to sound professional.
He nodded, opened the door, and stepped inside. I followed, catching glimpses of scattered prints and stacks of photographs, the faint smell of chemicals lingering in the air.
“Sorry, it’s a bit of a mess, I’m finally moving my stuff into my new studio, so things are everywhere,” he said, carefully lifting a stack of prints.
“It’s fine,” I murmured as my gaze immediately landed on a photograph pinned to the wall.
It was a huge single black-and-white image of a stormy coastline, the waves frozen mid-crash, the sky dark with clouds. The details were sharp and haunting, and I couldn’t look away.
“Can I offer you something?” His voice snapped me back.
I turned, blinking at the nervous look on his face. Confused.
Was I making him nervous? Were artists usually this jittery with scouts? And why was I even excited about this?
Snap out of it, Lilith! Be professional, my mind screamed.
I straightened quickly and cleared my throat. “This…” I pointed to the photograph. “Tell me about it.”
“Oh…okay.” He took off his cap, running a hand through his rich, black hair. “I…uh, I took that while I was traveling alone. Kind of a…self-discovery trip, I guess. It reminded me of…an inner turmoil I was going through at the time.”
He’s really nervous. I noted.
“You don’t have to be nervous,” I said softly. “It’s my first time scouting. Honestly, I don’t really know what I’m doing either.”
He let out a light chuckle. “Right…um, sorry. It’s just—Van-Ash is a big deal for artists around here.” His voice trembled slightly. “I, uh…wasn’t expecting someone from there to actually come.”
I gave him a reassuring smile. “I can work with what you have here. I already see some really cool stuff.”
I glanced around the room—prints hung on the walls, a couch pushed to one side, a makeshift table of cardboard boxes, floor-to-ceiling windows offering a view of the neighborhood. Nothing flashy, but functional.
I stepped closer to another image. “So…tell me. What motivates you?”
“I…guess I’m motivated by…moments people usually miss. The things that are intense, fleeting…like a storm or a look on someone’s face.”
He smiled, giving the cap in his hand a small squeeze. “I try to capture them, because…well, it’s the only way I know how to. People forget, memories fade, but a single photograph can carry a story for a long time.”
“Wow…that totally makes sense.” I nodded, forcing a polite smile.
What the fuck, Lilith.
It wasn’t that I didn’t understand, or I underappreciated his work. I just didn’t know how to process his words at that moment because I was simply in awe of how a person could be so reflective, philosophical, and genuine at once.
“I’ll show you.” He smiled, walking over to the other side of the space. He returned with a camera, and I just blinked.
“May I?”
I nodded.
“Can you think of a happy memory? Something…anything. You don’t have to say it out loud.”
I chuckled and bit my lip as I paced a little. A happy memory… my mind went straight back to the stairs, the way Joe had scared me, tripping and yelling, then how he had swooped in to catch him and I laughed quietly at the memory.
For a moment, everything else faded. I smiled bigger than I meant to, just…living in the memory.
When I looked up, he was taking photos. His grin was wide, eyes lighting up through the camera.
“Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about,” he smiled, walking over to me.
He showed me the images, raw, unfiltered, no performance. Yet somehow it was perfect, like a different version of myself that seemed fleeting, almost non-existent.
He had caught me being me without me even realizing it.
I finally understood his why.
I just…stood there, quiet, my heart beating a little faster.
“I could have them printed for you…that is, if you’d like.”
“Of course,” I said, a little too quickly. Then I remembered my mission. Pulling out the business card, I added, “Van-Ash Art Gallery would be pleased to have your art displayed in our gallery…we’ll be in touch.” It sounded like a proper goodbye. If I scouted him right now, right here, I might never interact with him again until exhibition day.
“Uh…you mentioned something about a studio earlier. When’s the grand opening? I could stop by and get the photos from there,” I said eagerly.
He blinked, nodded, and reached into his pocket, pulling out a card. “There’s no grand opening or anything fancy. It’s open starting today. Drop by anytime.”
“Sure,” I said, tucking the card away.
I smiled to myself as I walked out. I’d done the right thing today. Now…
“Time to find the second artist.”