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Sneak peek:

Saturday, November 11, 2023

A moment lasts ninety seconds.

Sure, that life-changing blip of time feels much longer when you’re experiencing an accident, a revelation, or a tipping point in life, but it’s still just a minute and a half.

I’m Francesca Ravida. I work at an art gallery owned by my uncle Marcello and a Greek guy named Enzo. My career path diverted into the world of crime on the evening of November 11, 2023. That night involved three significant moments. One, I witnessed. I felt the second as it happened, and the third, well, I didn’t fully appreciate it until months later. Let’s go back to that November night, when my life took a sudden turn into crime.

It fell on the second Saturday of the month when the businesses in St. Petersburg, Florida’s downtown Grand Central District hold an Art Walk. The galleries stay open until 9 p.m. Some offer wine, cheese, chocolates, and brochures to lure customers. I’ve noticed that people feel less pressure to enter a gallery with a crowd because, in slower times, gallery employees tend to hover like anxious parents.

Despite my pathetic base salary and commissions as the Tesoro Gallery’s sales associate, I prefer a low-key approach. I want to earn more, but as a recent master’s degree graduate, I can get by on peanut butter, crackers, and Ramen noodles. Besides, the 90-day probation period is over. It could mean a raise any day now. The gallery owners must meet and agree to promote me to manager. One owner, Uncle Marcello Renaud, lives in West Palm, where he oversees the Tesoro Gallery there. The other owner, Enzo Papagiorgios, runs the Tesoro Gallery in Sarasota. Enzo objected to hiring me, but certainly, my sales record should win him over.