CHAPTER FOUR: The Second Rule is “Don’t Leave Empties in the Shower”
It was completely counterproductive to watch her paint instead of focusing on his work, but Kevin was being assaulted simultaneously on two fronts. For one, the painting she was working on was utterly fascinating, and he knew there would be Stanley Cup playoffs on Satan’s personal icepond before he could ever attempt to create anything that looked like it was underwater using nothing but acrylic paint and a brush; and secondly, whether she knew it or not, Mina had a habit of systematically stripping down when she painted.
She had started off fully clothed; an iPod strapped to her upper arm in an athletic band while she sang along softly and mixed pigments on a palette. Then she spent a good half hour adjusting the lights in his apartment until satisfied. He watched her over the top of his laptop as she stalked around for a whilst, finally making the first stroke, then another one, sometimes working the brush frantically over the canvas, other times stopping to stare for a long while before making a tiny adjustment. A careless splotch of paint dropped off her brush and onto her cutoffs; she swore and set her palette down before pulling them off and kicking them off into a corner. Kevin didn’t see what the big deal was: they were already covered in paint.
Her shirt came off next; she wiped her forehead with it before throwing it in the general direction of the shorts. A quarter of an hour later she snapped her bra off in a fury and threw it aside. Her breasts bounced free underneath her tank top as she pulled her hair back in a ponytail. Kevin began to squirm in his chair at that point.
She continued painting, then stopped, staring at an orange shape she had put towards the top. “No,” she said aloud, stepping back. “White.”
“Something wrong?”
“Shush!” She waved him off, her hands and arms covered in streaks of color. She switched brushes, dabbed some more paint on the canvas, then shut her eyes and rubbed her face with the back of her hand, transferring the paint there onto her face.
He watched her work in the corner of the living room, tripping over drop cloths and constantly moving her easel to catch optimal light, and an idea started blooming in his mind. He scribbled a Post-It to himself and stuck it on his pile of paper, then threw more papers on top of it.
“I need a break,” she muttered, pulling her tank top off and wiping her hands with it as she wandered towards the kitchen. She emerged moments later, wearing nothing but a pair of light blue bikini panties, her bangs in her eyes as she sucked on an orange Popsicle.
“What are you doing?” she asked, backing up slightly as he stood suddenly, knocking over his chair and crossing the distance between them in three strides.
Her Popsicle melted into a sticky orange puddle on the floor.
*************************************************************************
Kevin’s dining partner kept reaching over and stealing pieces of his muffin, and not just any pieces, but actively seeking and digging out the thick blueberries buried in the dough--the best part--and slipping them, unashamed, into her mouth. Most of the blueberries were now gone, and the muffin was mutilated. There was no choice now but to buy another one. He took another sip of his coffee and said nothing.
Makoto trotted over to him during a lull in the morning rush and refilled his coffee, mouthing a quick “thank you” before disappearing behind the counter. He waved her off and turned back to his laptop screen, ignoring the four emails from Zach that had popped up in the last five minutes, each one marked “urgent”. It was a lost cause, but he checked his muffin one last time to see if salvage efforts would be worth it.
Aja was reaching for it again, this time squishing the crumbs in her tiny fist and pulling the mash to her mouth, all the while staring at him with her wide hazel eyes in the way that young children did, without breaking contact. She started to stand on her chair, her pale green tutu tangling around her legs, still looking at Kevin like he was an idiot that she barely tolerated.
It had been years since Kevin had interacted with any human being of less than twenty years of age, but while picking up coffee, he had noticed that Makoto was working alone with Aja strapped into a nearby high chair, whining and fussing as Makoto tried to take orders and make coffee. The opening person had called in, and a replacement couldn’t come in for a few hours, so he had offered to watch Aja until the rush died down. Makoto had almost cried with joy as she passed the toddler over the counter.
He hadn’t counted on her hijacking his breakfast.
Also, despite the fact that he had the parenting skill of a sack of cement, he deduced that standing on a wooden chair when you were small and pretty breakable was a bad idea, so he picked up Aja and settled her on his lap, praying to all receptive deities that she had been toilet trained.
The first thing she reached for was his coffee, so he moved it out of her reach. She whimpered, squirming, and Kevin wondered how he would deal with the inadequacy issues that would arise if Makoto discovered that he was incapable of watching a two year old for an hour. “Uh, hey, want to play with this?” He drummed a few keys, waking up his laptop, and noticed that Zach had given up trying to message him and was calling instead. He clicked open the dialogue box, and Zach’s upper body popped onto the screen, sporting a wrinkled t-shirt and a few days worth of stubble.
“Hey, you guys work fast,” he said in greeting, absently rubbing the back of his head. Aja stared at the screen, transfixed. “Doesn’t look like either of you. Hate to break it to you, bro, but I don’t think she’s yours.”
“Da!” Aja said, suddenly pointing at the screen. “Hi!”
“Aw, she thinks I’m her Dad,” Zach pushed his face closer to the web cam so that his entire head filled the screen. “Which, thanks to this incredible pussy drought I’m going through, is pretty much impossible at this point.”
“Zach, she can hear—“
“Hi little girl! Aren’t you cute? I’ve got five bucks if you can manage to pee on Uncle Kevin’s lap.”
“What do you want?” Kevin said. He adjusted Aja; she was sitting on his tie and artfully strangling him.
“Well last night, I got bored and started, you know, killing time. So after about two or three hours of watching porn, I started searching for something else to, uh, stimulate me, and you’re going to die when you see what I found.”
Kevin instinctively clapped a hand over Aja’s eyes. “Not in front of the kid.”
“Don’t worry, it’s not porn. Well, it’s not not porn, exactly, but, here, check it out.” He clicked something on his end, and a browser window popped up, playing a video. It was shot with a handheld, showing a stage lit up with soft pink light, and about a dozen young women in various stages of undress, half blonde, half brunette, dancing on chairs along with AC/DC. “You didn’t tell me your girlfriend was in Liquid Sugar.”
There was Mina, wearing black lingerie, fishnets and about twenty pounds of makeup, and actually jamming and smiling like she was having the time of her life. The crowd, mostly male, was going wild for the girl in the foreground, who seemed to be the ringleader or something. She looked familiar.
“Mommy!” Aja blurted, pointing. Kevin had forgotten to cover her eyes again. Sure enough, hovering in the background, Makoto was swinging on a rail affixed to the ceiling, her stomach hard and flat enough to grate something on.
“Ah, here comes my girl,” Zach said. The ringleader was back, grabbing one leg and extending it over her head. The camera was shaking a lot, but Raye’s shiny black hair and unmatched flexibility was unmistakable. “That’s right, baby. Work out your daddy issues for me.”
“That’s Mina’s best friend,” Kevin said, taking a sip of coffee and wondering how long he could expose Aja to this before he was reported to Child Protective Services.
“Are you serious? And you haven’t hooked me up?”
“She’s been with Mina’s brother for almost two years.”
“Well, there goes that fantasy. Why didn’t you tell me she was a Sugar girl? Do you know how many times I’ve, uh, applauded them one-handed on many a long, lonely night? Why didn’t she stick with it? They’re touring with Britney right now! And the new head Sugar has her own reality show, and yes, I do TiVO it.”
Kevin clicked the video off. “She wanted to focus on her art.”
“Bull, that’s the highest form of performance art imaginable, and probably the most underappreciated. Did you notice that they never, ever get nude? But they make you think they did! It’s incredible! And how all the blondes wear black all the time, and the brunettes are in white, they play with the whole virgin/whore archetype. It’s actually very well done. My friend, THAT is art. Not scribblies on paper.”
“That’s how she met Darien,” Kevin said. “He represents the rest of them now.”
“Lucky bastard. Maybe I should look into being an agent. Or maybe I should buy a basketball team. What do you think? Too pretentious? Too Mark Cuban? Tell me the truth, I can handle.”
Aja was reaching for the keyboard, her fingers sticky with muffin debris and saliva. “Is this all you called to tell me?”
“Well, yes, and to ask if Mina’s ever Sugared for you. Because it’s not fair for her to hold out on something like that. Damn!”
“Bye, Zach.” He closed the box.
He gave Aja a yellow highlighter and a stack of Post-Its to play with while he completed one more transaction that, if it was ever discovered, would utterly fuck him, steal his lunch money, and leave him in the doghouse for a long time.
She had set three big rules in their relationship, and he was breaking Rule Number One. Again. Timing was everything; he had to wait she collected commission or made a sale, find out the amount, then quietly move funds into her account from one of his own. Judging by the number of unopened bank statements that were stacking up in her room, it was unlikely that she would ever notice. If he was lucky. Every damn thing came down to luck. Naturally, there was some guilt associated with so brazenly breaking Rule Number One on a pretty regular basis, but there was no other way he could get around it, and he had to get around it. He justified it by sticking to Rule Number Two to the letter of the law.
Maybe he shouldn’t do it this time. He had been pressing his luck so far, and it couldn’t hold out forever…
Then he thought about her abandoning her underwater painting until she could afford more cobalt blue--which, surprisingly, was expensive enough to merit its own street value--and the decision made itself. He clicked the mouse.
Makoto rushed to the table again. “Kevin, thank you so much, I know I already owe you free coffee for life…would you like to keep my firstborn? She seems to like you.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He picked up a napkin and tried to wipe off a smear of goo that Aja left on his shirt, hoping that it was one of the more innocuous bodily fluids. “Just have your husband keep the flagrant fouls down to one per game.”
Makoto’s expression was pained. “He still feels really, really bad about that.”
“I’m just teasing. Part of it was my fault; if he didn’t sprain my fingers, then I would have been called for a charge. I was trying to dunk over him.”
“Even so. At least it was your left hand, right? Like, who needs their left hand?”
“I’m left handed.”
“Oh.”
She raised her eyebrows. “So what happening with…?”
Suddenly, he was nervous. The child on his lap sensed his change in mood and out of mercy, momentarily stopped drawing on his shirt with highlighter. “I’m going to show her today. What do you think?”
She smiled at him. “I think you need a new muffin.”
********************************************************
Raye had always had excellent and exclusive taste in shoes; she had used her first advance to buy a pair of red Escada platforms with Swarovski crystal embellishments and a five-inch heel. For the first month after that, the only time she would wear them was to take a careful spin around her bedroom carpet, and the concept of lending them out, even to her nearest and dearest friend who was fortunate enough to share the same shoe size, was absolutely unheard of. An addiction was born, and since her professional career had recently started to reap the discretionary spending to amass a distinguished collection, she had been a little more lenient with her lending practices.
However, if she knew that Mina was practically running down the sidewalk wearing her steel-colored goatskin and patent leather Prada stilettos, risking a scuff, or worse, a broken heel, her generosity would be cut off in half a blink.
“Hey! You’re like, running! Do you know what Raye will do to me if I mess up her shoes?”
He slowed. “Sorry.” He had left work in the middle of the day, which considering that Mina hadn’t seen him in daylight hours in at least a week, was highly suspect. The explanation was equally foggy: something about checking out a new apartment that he wanted to buy. It was kind of weird to her, since she couldn’t fathom any reason why he would want to move, other than the fact that she had dropped a cast iron pan and chipped a corner of his countertop, which still filled her with mad guilt every time she stood in his kitchen. But now he seemed anxious as he charged down the sidewalk, pulling her by one hand.
She trotted a bit to catch up with him. “Hey! Did I tell you the prints of Victory are done? Jesse already sold two of them online. Now he has to figure out how to ship one of them to Halifax. Hey, there’s something yellow on your shirt. It looks like highlighter.”
He stopped in front of a building. “This one.” The doorwoman opened the door for them.
“Thanks!” Mina called over her shoulder as they entered the elevator. She kept talking as he swiped some card and punched a button. “So anyway, he didn’t even know where Halifax is. He doesn’t know where anything is outside of the city, and he threw this total bitch-fit when I teased him about it so now I have to draw a tattoo for some guy that he’s sweating over so he can pass it off as his own. I thought everyone knew that Halifax is in Scotland.”
He didn’t even catch it. “What?”
“What’s wrong with you?” She stared at him. “Do you have a body hidden up there or something? What’s going on?”
He grabbed her by the elbows and pulled her close. “I’m just…I really hope you like this place.”
“Uh, I like the place you have now. There’s nothing wrong with it. At least your bedroom doesn’t have a giant hole in the ceiling.”
“Believe me, you’ll probably like this one better.” The hallway was awfully small, Mina noticed, and there was only one unmarked double door. Kevin pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the door.
Her borrowed heels clicked on the floor as she entered. “Wow.” She turned slowly, taking in the high ceiling and natural light pouring in through the skylight. “This is huge. Lots of wall space.” She trailed a hand against the wall as she continued her inspection, already planning which pieces she could arrange on all the empty space. “Wow. This is incredible.”
“Can I show you something?”
Mina stopped halfway through her inspection of the kitchen and threw him a quick smile. “It’s that body you’re hiding, isn’t it?”
“No, I keep those in the trunk of my car. Just come here already!”
“OK, OK.”
He led her down a hall, past other rooms that at a quick glance, were just as gigantic as the rest of the place, and opened a door at the end of the hallway.
This room was different: the walls were white, the floor was wood, and the ceiling stretched a good twenty feet above her head, with a gigantic skylight letting the afternoon sun in. A countertop ran across the length of one of the walls, complete with an industrial sink, and most significantly, a spiral staircase that led to a small loft, complete with more cabinets.
Kevin was watching her as she stared, open mouthed, and tentatively touched the countertops. “What are you thinking?”
Mina swallowed. “I’m thinking that there’s only one reason you would consider buying a place that has studio space in it.” She turned to him. “Are you serious?”
“Of course I’m serious. Do you like the track lighting? I had Noah put it in. He owed me a favor for almost breaking my goddamn fingers.”
She was shaking her head. “It’s too much, I can’t accept this.”
“Yes, you can.”
“No, I can’t! This is a total violation of Rule Number One. I do not take money off you!” She couldn’t think of what else to say, so she simply sat on the floor.
“Mina, you’re not taking money off of me.”
Please. “Oh bullshit, this is beyond taking money off of you. This is like, taking giant solid gold dumpsters of money off of you. I would owe you forever.”
He reached down and pulled her up by a hand. “You wouldn’t owe me anything. I’m asking you to live with me.”
She had made him blush again, she noticed. “I’m sorry, I’m freaking out, I just—it’s like, I’ve never had someone do something like this…”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“You didn’t ask one.”
He reached out and rubbed her face with his thumb. “I asked if you would live with me. Don’t get hung up on the details. Just answer me.”
Mina stared into his eyes, narrowed and anxious, and let what he was really asking her sink in. She exhaled, then nodded.
He pulled her into a rib-crushing hug, momentarily knocking the breath out of her. “You already bought it, didn’t you?” she said, turning her head into his chest.
“Sort of.”
“Sort of like how? In wayman’s terms.”
“’Layman’s terms’.”
“Whatever, poindexter.”
“Uh, I gave the previous owner a set amount of legal tender and signed papers and now I am the current owner.”
“What would you do if I said no?”
He pulled back to look at her. “Well, I would have one really huge bathroom with track lighting.”
****************************************************************
“MINA!”
She stopped rummaging through her closet and poked her head out of her bedroom door. Her brother could be such a pain in the ass. “What?”
“Come here a second.”
“Can it wait?”
“No. I only have an hour to get this done.”
“Jeez.” She made her way to his desk and leaned over his shoulder. “What?”
“What do you think?” He stopped clicking the mouse for a moment.
She leaned closer to the monitor. Jason usually had a better eye for composition and depth than she did, but this whole mess that he had created was a definite misfire. “Too cluttered.”
“Huh.” He crossed his arms. “Any suggestions?”
“Yes, move.” He shoved aside, barely, allowing her to reach over and take the mouse. “I’m going to take out everything in this corner.”
“Go ahead.”
Mina clicked a few lines off, thought a bit, and then deleted some more. “Can I keep going?”
“I’m giving you free rein,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “By the way, Mark’s band is looking for something for their next album’s cover. Can I show him your apple-turning-into-a-human-heart?”
“That one? Sure. It hasn’t sold yet.” She smirked as she remembered Kevin’s face when he came home and found her sketching a fresh pig heart plunked in the middle of his dining table. “Hey, uh, I’ve been meaning to tell you, I, uh,” she kicked herself mentally for stuttering. Why did she feel strange announcing it out loud, and to her damn brother, of all people? “Kevin asked me to move in with him. H-he bought a new apartment, and it has a studio in it where I can work.”
Jason was nonplussed. “Yeah, I know. I helped him and Noah put in the track lighting.”
What the hell? “Did everyone know about this except me? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Maybe because he wanted to surprise you?”
“Why would he do that?”
His expression was so exasperated that there were swear words written into it. “Because he loves you, you idiot.”
“Well, yeah, but I mean, this isn’t a bunch of flowers or something. He pretty much bought me a house.”
Jason turned to her. “Are you really that emotionally constipated? The guy is in love with you, stupid, and for some reason I don’t really understand, because you’re dumber than a box of hair that’s been lit on fire and stomped out by a mime.”
“Shut up.”
“And not at all attractive physically.”
She clicked a few more times. “Mom told me you have a small dick.”
“Mom told me you were born with both boy and girl parts.”
“Mom told me you were adopted.”
“Good, that means I’m not related to you.” He nodded at the screen. “Are you done?”
“Yeah, you like it?”
He grunted. “Actually, yeah. You saved this thing. I owe you one.”
She swatted him on the shoulder. “You can help me move.”
**************************************************************
Mina unwisely waited until Jesse was stretching at the top of a ladder, trying to hang a painting, to bring up the subject. “Kevin’s never been to the Louvre.”
Jesse wobbled a bit. “Really? My boy has never been to the most famous museum in the world?” He shrugged as much as his position would allow him. “I’m not that surprised, actually. He’s not the type that would piss away his entire day looking at art.” He glanced down to where Mina was standing, holding the ladder. “Why are you surprised? You know him much better than me, unfortunately, and even I can tell it’s not his thing.”
“I know,” she agreed. “It’s just weird to me.”
“Why? Honey, you guys are very compatible, but it’s not like you share a lot of interests.” He noticed her expression, and rambled on. “There’s nothing wrong with that, you know. You don’t have to completely mesh on everything.”
“Well, yeah…”
“Well nothing. Mina, please get over it. Casey was an artist. Similar interests do not a stable relationship make.”
She threw him a look. “Tell me, what was your longest relationship? Three weeks?”
“Three weeks and four and a half days, thank you very much! I dumped his Minnelli-loving ass over lunch, so I’m counting the morning hours into the grand total. That’s the last time I date older guys who aren’t out of the closet yet.” He let go of the painting and dusted his hands. “Speaking of lunch, let’s get the hell out of here. I’m hungry and there’s no place that this tacky thing is going to look good. I don’t know what I was on when I made it. Oh wait, yes I do. Hash.”
“OK. I have to stop and get some money, though.”
At the ATM, she stopped and stared at her receipt. “What?” Jesse said, his stomach rumbling.
She crushed the paper in her fist. “That’s funny. I should be broker than this.”
“Oh, poor you. This means you’re buying.” He lit a cigarette as they started off again. “So anyway, how’s the new home? When are you going to have a party?”
“Heh,” she laughed. “Once I feel like it’s actually my home.”
Jesse took a drag. “What do you mean?”
Mina exhaled, trying to think of the best way she could phrase it and not sound like an ungrateful tool, which was what she felt like most days. “It’s like-he bought this apartment, right? And it’s totally fabulous and I love it and I can’t believe that it’s now where I live, but it’s like, what if I break something or clog the pipes, or the cat barfs on the floor when we’re not home and it’s stomach acid eats away at the hardwood? I’ve never lived anywhere nice enough to even care if my floors are discolored from cat puke, but now I freak out about that kind of thing, because it’s our apartment, but it’s not, it’s really his, and it’s bad enough that he pays all the bills…”
Jesse was staring at her like she had just pulled a severed head out of her purse. “Sweet baby Jesus, Mina, I always knew you were a little unhinged, but I didn’t know you could cross the line into actual crazy.”
She hit him. “You don’t understand. Stop making fun of me!”
“I understand that you are still getting used to living with another person, but God, dear, it doesn’t bother him, obviously, or else he would have said something, and if it bothers you so much, why don’t you just talk to him about it? You’re both adults, and thankfully only one of you is crazy.”
She shot him a look as she pulled open the café door. “This crazy woman thinks that’s crazy talk.”
“Yes, mature, open communication is definitely not the way to go. Tell me, is it current drugs that are killing your brain, or was it the ones in college, because frankly, I can’t tell, and I would like some.”
**********************************************************
Kevin flinched as something light and scratchy hit his face, and luckily, instinctively closed his eyes at the same time.
“Hey!” Darien shouted, drawing stares from other patrons as he shook the saltshaker in Kevin’s face. “Come back, soldier! Achtung!”
“Quit it, we’re in public!” he hissed, rubbing salt crystals out of the folds of his eyelids and dislodging a contact in the process. Shit.
Darien smiled disarmingly at the table staring at them, which would have had a better effect if they were females of any age range, instead of gray-haired CEOs in suits. He bit loudly into a raw baby carrot. “We’re always in public. Life happens in public. So, what’s eating you?”
“Nothing,” Kevin muttered, his index finger practically knuckle-deep in his eyeball. “Ouch. Shit.”
“Yes, there is, because that’s the second time I caught you staring into space like a freshman daydreaming of tits in math class. Are you daydreaming of tits? No shame, man, that’s practically ninety percent of my day. The other ten percent is actually staring at tits, thank Allah.”
Kevin was too preoccupied with the slab of plastic in his eye to catch any of that. “What are you talking about?”
“Don’t worry about it. You were just about to fess up to whatever the hell’s bothering you.”
“Nothing’s bothering me.”
“Yeah, sure. Please cut the bullshit, I know you already.”
Kevin wasn’t sure where he should start, or when, or what exactly he was trying to say that would articulate the peculiar feeling that had been taking residence in his gut at inopportune times, a feeling that he was not accustomed to. Darien must have seen the indecision written on his face, as his tone suddenly went serious. “I know you well enough to know it’s not work, because then you would be bitching up a storm, so that leaves family or girlfriend. I’m going to guess girlfriend.” He squinted across the table. “Is she knocked up?”
“What? No!” His eye was killing him; either a grain of salt had somehow worked its way in, or the contact was torn and was now giving him corneal abrasions every time he blinked. Still better than someone shooting lasers in his eyes and peeling it like a goddamn grape. He kept Darien waiting for a few moments while he fished the contact out of his eye and stuck it to his napkin. “Mina cleans the bedroom.”
Darien sat stock-still and blinked a few times. “How dare she. What a bitch,” he deadpanned.
“Never mind.” The other contact was retrieved and joined its partner on the table. He bent and fished in his briefcase for his glasses.
“No, really, now I need to hear this. You’ve got sand in your asscrack because…your girlfriend cleans the bedroom?”
“Have you ever seen her bedroom?”
Darien laughed and took a sip of water. “No, my friend, that’s your job.”
“OK, well, her bedroom’s never clean. I used to think it was just too small for her, because she was working out of it, and she needs a lot of supplies to paint with, but then I’ve seen her room at her parents’ house, and parts of the apartment that she started to…influence, and so really, she’s just not a neat person.”
“Bro, I couldn’t care what a woman’s house looked like, as long as I had a clear path from the bed to the toilet.”
Kevin wondered momentarily how Darien managed to marry his sister before continuing. “But now she cleans everything, almost religiously, and especially the bedroom. She even dusts.”
“Enlighten me, son, because I still fail to see what the problem is.”
He sighed. “The problem is she’s still acting like a guest in her own house. She asks me before she does anything, like, putting pictures on the refrigerator or changing the towels and shit. I don’t care; it’s her home, too. She shouldn’t feel like she has to ask.”
Darien chewed slowly. “OK, so, your whole issue is that she cleans up after herself instead of reverting back to insane slob, probably out of consideration for you, which means working to change her bad habits, again, not easy for her, but she does it anyway, because she loves you and wants to make you happy, and since you’re thirty-two flavors of fucked up, you hate that.”
“I just want her to be happy.”
“Here’s a thought, genius, why don’t you just talk to her and tell her to stop with the Suzy Homemaker?”
“I think that will make her uncomfortable. I was just going to hire a housekeeper.”
Darien made a strangled noise. “Yes, that’s such a better idea. Don’t listen to me, I’m just happily married and all.”
“It’s different. We’re not married.”
“Please, you bought her an apartment. That’s practically a prenup.”
Kevin was silent as he stared at a point five feet in front of him on the ground, his eyes growing distant. Darien sighed and reached for the saltshaker.
**************************************************************************
The magazines weren’t stacking correctly, Mina noticed, leaning over for the fourth time in five minutes and re-fanning them out in a semi-circle. Now it looked like a dentist’s office. Exasperated, she gave up and grabbed the entire stack and hastily jammed it under the couch.
It was the most pointless thing in the world to worry about, since they were obviously unread: their spines were unbent and subscription cards kept falling out. She had ran out and bought them an hour before, after realizing that if one was stuck in this sitting area, with its long white couches and teak end tables, there was nothing to occupy your time unless you liked staring at the bowl of fake lemons that Jesse had made during his experiment with ceramic. This room was boring, and very white. Mina bit at her thumbnail and decided the best bet would be to steer her father towards the kitchen and back living room, both of which at least had televisions.
She still couldn’t believe that she lived in an apartment that had a “back” and “front” living room. And no one crashing on the couches of either.
She grabbed a sketchpad and settled back against one of the boring white couches. Serena had picked them out; Mina had been in the process organizing an alumni exhibition that had sucked several months out of her life, and Kevin was too busy to pick out his own shoelaces, much less furnishings. They were far from ugly, but also far from inspiring. And white. Serena loved white. Mina realized that she had been mindlessly doodling the stupid bowl of stupid fake lemons and threw her pad aside.
Her phone rang. Jason was calling, meaning they were here already or close. “Hey.”
“What’s the code again?”
Unreal. “I’ve told you like two hundred times, can’t you remember four numbers? Four zero two five. Stupid.” He hung up on her in lieu of replying.
She had the front door open as her family came out of the elevator. “Daddy!”
“Hi, hi.” He set down his suitcase, which looked brand new, and hugged her tightly. She stuck her face in his coat and inhaled the scent of cedar closets and dryer sheets that she would always associate with home. “How’s my girl?”
“You look skinny,” her mother said as a greeting as she hugged her. She eyed Mina suspiciously. “But your boobs are bigger. Did you get something done to them?”
“She’s up the stick,” Jason joked, shoving past her through the doorway with his mother’s bag. Mina aimed a kick for his shin and missed.
“What?!”
“No, Mom, it’s probably the Ortho, or my bra.” Luckily, her parents weren’t listening anymore, as they were standing the foyer and gaping at the interior of the apartment. “So…yeah. This is the place.”
Her father took a few steps forward. “You don’t have a mortgage?”
“Um, no.” Jason was giving her a strange look. “I don’t. Kevin bought it for me—for us.” She tried to swallow the thick lump sticking in her throat. “Do you—do you like it?”
“Mina,” her father said, unzipping his coat slowly. “Just how much money does this guy of yours have, anyway?”
“Fucking shitloads,” Jason helpfully provided. “You guys never noticed?”
“Language, Jason!” Their mother shook her head. “No! He never mentioned…neither of you mentioned anything! We knew he was well-off, but not this well-off!”
Jason shrugged. “Not my place. Hey, is this why you guys always made me drive when we visited? So Dad wouldn’t see the Porsche or the Lotus?”
“Um, yeah? Plus the four of us wouldn’t fit, you know how much Raye packs.”
“See the what?” their mother said, astonished. Mina shifted her weight; she knew her parents would be shocked when they finally came over, and tried to prepare for it, but it still felt like throwing up: painful during the process, but much better when it was over.
“Well, tell him to buy a Range Rover or something. Those trips are hard on the Chevelle.”
Their father was wandering past the boring front room and into the kitchen. Mina’s mother let out a sudden gasp. “I gave the bowl he gave us for Christmas to the school rummage sale!”
Mina winced. “Mom! Please tell me they sold it for more than five hundred bucks.”
“No, I think the band director took it home for a dollar. Oh darn it, darn it!”
Jason started laughing. “Not your fault, it was ugly.”
“It really was,” Mina added. “He picked it out himself. He really shouldn’t be allowed do that.”
“He did OK with this place,” Jason replied, as their father continued his meandering.
“Daddy?” He turned to her, and something in his face was very disquieting. “Want to see the best part?”
She led them down the hallway and to her studio. “Tah-dah!” The studio had transformed from its time as a bare room with unscratched floors to a heavily creative workspace: paintings in various stages of drying were hung on the walls; easels with half-completed works were positioned in a line as if standing at attention. Sunlight filtered in, catching specks of dust swirling in the air. The counters were filled with paint tubes and jars full of brushes, rolls of canvas, wood, nails, cans of gesso and thinner, jars of oils, pads, pastels, CDs, a spool of wire, X-acto knives, stained rags, grinding stones, erasers. Its surface was barely visible.
Her father turned in a slow circle while her mother reached down, picked up a discarded t-shirt and habitually folded it before placing it on a couch that was resting against a wall. “Mina, don’t leave your clothes lying around. Oh, this couch is broken.”
“Oh…yeah.” Formerly belonging to Jesse’s now-evicted roommate, the couch had proved itself indispensable. When Kevin came home from work agitated, he would decompress by popping a beer, settling down, and silently watching her paint. Usually this would lead to working out stress in another way, too, and if her mother would look closely, she would notice that not only was the couch frame broken, but that the feet had scratched deep gouges in the floor from repeated, hard friction, and the t-shirt that she had folded had a seam coming apart from when it had been ripped off. Thankfully, there didn’t seem to be any visible stains.
“I like this new one.” Jason nodded towards a sketch on an easel. “Sure you want to keep her hand up like that?”
She stood next to him and cocked her head, staring at the canvas sideways. “Why, what were you thinking?”
“Uh. Hmm, maybe turn the wrist? Her arm could stay up, but her hand hangs down limp.”
Mina reached for a pencil and drew on top of her sketch. “Now?”
“Gimme that.” He took the pencil from her and redrew the hand. “OK, better. Reminds me of Victory, a little. Speaking of, where did he finally stick it? This place is huge, but you don’t have that kind of wall space here.”
She frowned. “Hasn’t moved yet.”
Jason saw her face and backed off. “Oh. Well, I’m sure there’s an airport somewhere that needs something to hang in their baggage claim. Anyway,” he turned. “Mom! What do you think of the track lighting? I put it in! Well, helped. This smarty engineer guy did most of the work.”
She led her parents out of the studio and into the guest room where they would be staying, Jason popping out with their mother to get a drink in the kitchen. Mina’s father was silent as he sat on the edge of the bed. “Daddy? Are you OK?”
He picked up a throw pillow from the bed and tossed it a few times before his eyes sharpened, and he put it down quickly. He started rubbing his short beard that had a bit more gray than blonde in it. “Where is Kevin, anyway?”
“At work,” she said. “He’s going to meet us for dinner later.”
Her father looked at her. Mina noticed that he looked tired, and a little overwhelmed, and felt suddenly strange in the room with him, like she was a tour guide at Buckingham Palace and he was the janitor. Both occupying the gilded cage, admiring their elegant surroundings, but collecting a paycheck at the end of the day and slouching back to their humble holes.
“I’m fine, sweetheart,” he said, attempting to straighten his shoulders. “Fine, fine, don’t worry about me.” He stood up and touched her lightly on the arm before heading out of the room. “Why don’t you show me the rest of the place while your mom and brother get a head start on getting drunk?”
“OK.” Mina went to the bed, picked up the pillow that her father had tossed aside, and saw that someone, probably her, had regrettably forgotten to remove the price tag. She threw it on the bed and left the room.
************************************************************
“Shit, shit.” Amazingly, Kevin broke all previous records of swearing with the last two, setting a new personal best of thirty blue words in sixty seconds. “What’s the time?”
“You are now an hour late,” Priyam replied, checking his rearview mirror. “Most likely they have started without you and are wondering if you are even coming at all and probably everything is very tense. Would you like me to drive on the sidewalk, Mr. Chaston?”
“No. Wait, hold on, can you?” He rolled down the window to take a look. Unlikely, since there was a damn souvenirs cart blocking most of the sidewalk, along with all the stupid pedestrians. He slumped back in his seat and added another one to the record. “Shit.” The first time that Mina’s parents were visiting and he had to get tied up at work, run into traffic, and thus run late enough to look like a total ass in front of the people that might one day be his in-laws.
Priyam reached over and turned off the radio. “Sir, when I was young, before Vijaya and I were married, her father and mother did not approve of both me and my family. They expressed this to me in very few words.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yes. It was very uncomfortable many times.”
Suddenly it seemed like Priyam may have all the answers. “What happened?”
“Oh, they died very soon after.”
Kevin leaned his head back and sighed. “Great. Thanks.”
“Not a problem, sir.” Priyam glanced back in the mirror again. “But please realize that whatever you do, you cannot be worse than my son-in-law.” He cleared his throat; usually once he got started on his lazy son-in-law, it was hard to stop him without drastic measure, like bailing out of the car at a random corner. “This weekend he worked only eight hours and was on the computer for fourteen playing that War of Worldcraft.”
“Yeah, well, I worked twelve hours and Mina yelled at me for working on a weekend.”
Priyam chuckled. “Miss Aino is a very funny girl. You make her very happy.”
That was nice to hear. His Blackberry beeped, and he was surprised to see that it was Zach, instead of another “where are you?” message from Mina. “38-25-36! Brn/blu wsh me luk!!!”
He sent three words back in response. “Wrap it, boy.”
It took another half an hour of Priyam yammering about his son-in-law before they arrived at the restaurant, which was some sort of trendy organic place that Jesse had picked, since he was casually dating one of the servers. Kevin realized that he hadn’t eaten in the past twelve hours, which could be a contributing factor to his foul-assed mood, and threw up a prayer that they served some sort of cooked dead animal. Before entering, he stopped at the maitre-d’ stand and discreetly slipped his credit card to the host. “For my table.”
The maitre-d’ glanced down, saw what type of plastic he had been handed, and nodded sharply.
Unlucky for him, they had saved him a seat between Mina and her father, but as he approached the table, Jesse sprung up in front of him like a ninja and dramatically threw his arms around him, squeezing him and running his hands down Kevin’s back. “Kevin! You made it!” He squinted his eyes slightly and hissed in a low voice “Hug me back, dammit!”
He stuck his arms awkwardly around Jesse’s skinny frame before something in his brain clicked and he realized what was up. “Is he looking?”
Jesse pulled away with a smile. “Oh hell yes! He practically dropped his tray, too! I should take you everywhere; you catch on a lot quicker than Jason.”
“I didn’t know why you were trying to hold my hand!” Jason objected, stabbing the olive in Raye’s martini with his cocktail spear and popping it into his mouth. “Give me some warning the next time you want to make your boyfriend jealous.”
Kevin slipped behind Raye, who smiled up at him when he touched her shoulder in greeting, and shook hands with Mina’s father.
“Kevin!” Her mother’s face was a bit bright as she stood to hug him. “Have I mentioned how much I loved that bowl you gave me?”
Mina muttered something that sounded like “fucking bowl” as he sat and kissed her on the cheek.
“Thank God you got here already!” Raye slurred, already a bit tipsy. “I couldn’t eat so I drank, and now Jason is stealing my olives! Jesse, where’s your boyfriend? I need new olives.”
“He’s not my boyfriend! Not yet.”
He felt Mr. Aino’s eyes on him. “God, I’m sorry for making you wait, it’s inexcusably rude. You should have started without me.”
“Oh we wouldn’t do that!” Mrs. Aino said, a little too loudly. It seemed like she had consumed a few olives, herself. Mina sighed heavily.
His Blackberry beeped again. “Crap,” he muttered, fumbling as he pried it out of his pocket. He barely opened the message before it went tumbling to the floor, coming to rest under Mr. Aino’s chair.
Kevin’s stomach clenched as he bent over to retrieve it; he had a pretty clear idea who it was, and if anything actually went right tonight, he would get to it before Mina’s father did. “No, don’t I got it—“
Too late. Mr. Aino picked it up, glanced down, and handed it back to Kevin with a strange look.
Zach’s message, in huge font, was sprawled across the Blackberry’s screen. “PUSSY DROUGHT OVER FOR ZACHY! HOLLA!!!!!”
Jesse’s handsome server materialized over his shoulder. “Can I get you a drink, sir?”
Kevin coughed, his mouth dry. “Please.”
**************************************************************************
“Zach says he’s sorry. Again,” Mina reported around the side of her phone. Kevin didn’t respond from his position on the bed.
“What’s that?” she stood and wandered to the bathroom, the phone still glued to her ear. “Uh-huh. Uh-huh. No, my dad will get over it, Kevin—“ She made a ridiculous face at him from the doorway. “—Is just being grouchy.”
“Ask him why he’s texting me when he’s in bed with a girl.”
“He wants to know why you’re texting him when you’re in bed with a girl.” She cocked her head, listening. “He said that if you went for as long as he did without getting any, you’d be buying billboard space in Times Square. And that--“ She paused. “—She was asleep anyway.”
A thought entered his mind. “Is he still there?”
“Are you still there?” She paused. “He says no. He’s at home. And he wants to know why—“ A pause. “—If you’re so interested why you don’t get on the phone yourself.”
“Tell him I’d rather he text it to me at inappropriate times.”
“He says he’s tired,” Mina said, dancing in place. She noticed Kevin staring at her through half-lidded eyes. She smiled, did a quick hip roll, then turned her back, ran her free hand through her hair and did a slow wind all the way to the floor. She spun around and giggled at him, continuing to pop her hips in rhythm. “Zach says that her ass looked like Raye’s—hey wait!” She stopped moving. “When have you seen Raye’s butt? You guys have never met. Did you Google her?”
Kevin smirked at Zach’s sudden rush to get off the phone. Mina snapped the phone shut and climbed in bed next to him. “You still bummed?”
“No.”
“Liar. You’ve been brooding since we got home.”
“I’m not.”
She wiggled in closer, resting her chin against his arm and staring up at his face. “Are you worried about my dad?”
He sighed and ran a hand down his face. “Wouldn’t you be? He barely spoke to me the entire night after he saw Moron’s text message.”
Mina stopped moving and thought about telling him about this afternoon, and her father’s discomfort in the new apartment, and how she would catch him looking at her, sometimes, like she was a stranger he had just encountered instead of his daughter. What came out of her mouth was: “Well, tomorrow you’ve got work all day and you won’t see him until my showing. Which, by the way.” She ran a hand across the tight plane of his stomach. “Don’t be late.”
He put his hand over hers, wondering if he should share that her father made him a lot more nervous than originally anticipated. “I forgot—my parents are probably going to come, too. They’re in town visiting at Serena and Darien’s.”
“Oh,” she groaned, burying her face in her pillow. “Great.” They were silent for a long stretch, both occupied with their thoughts.
Zach couldn’t resist one last message. “totl BJ lips 2! Fckn hot.”
**************************************************************
"I think Daddy is bored," Mina observed, watching her father hover in a corner between two of her works, trying to avoid talking to anyone who looked like they were under the influence of drugs. Which had to be fifty percent of the room at this point, and it sucked. Junkies never had money to buy.
"Well, he has been here for the last two hours," Raye pointed out, brushing her glorious hair over her shoulder. "Speaking of, when will I be released from duty?"
"Never. You're my moral support. And you're making me go to that councilman's fundraising thing and those stupid tickets were expensive."
Raye sniffed. "Oh, boo-hoo, your boyfriend just bought you a penthouse apartment. You can and will sit through one boring political fundraiser for my sake."
"So it's going to be boring, then?"
"Extremely. You're going to want to kill yourself boring."
Mina sighed and watched more of the crowd trickling in; in addition to her parents, who were visiting for the week, Makoto and Noah had brought Aja with them, and were trying to see if there were any benefits of exposing a toddler to the arts at a young age. So far she had declared one of Mina's favorite paintings as "ugly" and her favorite exhibit was the bathroom, which had self-flushing toilets. She had been asking to go potty about every five minutes.
"Hey, do you notice there's a lot of suits in here?"
Raye scanned the room again, standing on the tips of her toes. "There's like, three. Is that a lot?"
"For these kinds of shows, yes." She bit her finger absently. "I wonder why that is."
"Excuse me." She turned, and found herself face to face with one of the suits in question. "Someone said you're the artist who made these paintings here?"
“Uh, yeah, I am.”
The guy cleared his throat and looked sideways, like he was afraid of being caught. “I’m looking to acquire one of the blue paintings that help you relax. I don’t see any here.”
“I’m sorry, the what?”
“The blue paintings. My colleague has one hanging in his office. It looks like it’s underwater or something? He says it helps him relax. It must work because it’s the only thing I’ve seen him put on his walls, and he’s been in that office for over a year. He said I could get one here?”
“Oh.” Kevin had seemed especially attracted to Untitled 23, and while she was unsure if it was the composition or the fact that she had painted most of it naked that had drawn him to that work, she had given it to him. Last she knew, it was hanging in his office at work.. “I, uh, I only painted one of those, so I don’t—“
“What she means is, each one is unique, so she only had one of that one,” Raye interrupted, throwing back her shoulders and drawing her spine up to her full height. “I can show you some other works, if you like. I can find something that—compliments your personality.”
The man was staring at Raye with fire in his eyes as he nodded. Mina glanced quickly to see if Jason noticed, but he was busy mangling a Cure cover in the corner. Raye leaned in. “Twenty says I sell this yutz at least two. Which ones do you want to unload?”
“Peace Tree. Oh, and if you can swing it, Vermont. It weighs a ton and I don’t want to pack it back up at the end of the night.”
Raye blew a kiss at her and led the suit away.
“Miss Aino?” She turned, and faced a young woman with a dyed blonde bob, nose ring, and full tattoo sleeve up her arm. “Hi, I’m Sam Larin, I’m from the City magazine.”
“Oh, hi!” Mina shook the woman’s hand, a squirm of nervousness rolling through her stomach. There was only one possible way that a writer would be there. “Hi, hi, thanks for coming. My friend reads The City like, religiously every Sunday. She loves it.”
“Thanks.” She peered around the room. “Great show.”
Mina rubbed her palms together. “I hope so.”
“I actually came tonight to see if you would be able to sit down for an interview with me. We’re interested in doing a feature about you for next issue.”
“Me?” She didn’t mean to squeak the word out. “Really?”
“Yes, really. Not the cover, sorry, but we can give you some pages.”
She nearly choked getting the words out. “Oh my God, I mean, yeah! Yes! Thanks! I would love to!”
“Good, good.” The reporter pulled a card out of the back pocket of her hipster jeans. “Would this week work for you?”
Raye sidled up to her before she had a chance to respond. “Good thing you named that one Peace Tree instead of what it really looks like, am I right? God, I love suckers with too much money!”
*****************************************************************
“Hey.”
“Hey man,” Kevin looked down at the small person pulling on his pant leg, surprised to see that she was wearing a fairly normal children’s clothing instead of her usual spangled costume. “Hi, Aja. What happened to your—“
Noah cut him off loudly. “There’s a little girl in another country that doesn’t have many clothes, so we decided to send the Tinkerbell dress to her so that she can wear it now. We like to share.” Aja nodded solemnly, repeating the last word in a small voice.
“Ah.” He turned his head sideways to whisper. “Threw it or outgrew it?”
“Shitcanned the damn thing. It didn’t survive the last spin cycle and I was sick of my daughter looking like a fairy hobo.”
He laughed softly, and gestured across the room to Raye, who was standing in front of a huge painting with a guy in a suit. He used to be that guy, he thought. Repressed yuppie. Raye was probably taking him to the cleaners. “Cross your fingers that he buys that one. It weighs a ton and I don’t want to have to pack it up again.”
“I shall do that,” Noah said. “Because if you have to pack stuff up later, it usually means that I do, too. Hey, isn’t that Mina’s father?”
“It is. They’re staying with us this week.”
Noah raised his eyebrows and took a drink. “How’s that working out?”
“Well, thanks to Zach they think I’m a stupid frat boy, and I think—“ He stopped and thought a moment. “They’re uncomfortable around me. Especially her dad.”
“Huh,” Noah nodded into his glass.
“I think it’s because of the apartment."
“OK.”
“And maybe other stuff.”
“How about the fact that you’re sleeping with his daughter?”
“That, too.”
“Because believe me, once you have one, that’s all you think about. It makes you crazy.”
“What do you think?”
Noah was watching Aja point towards the bathroom. “I don’t know, go grab a beer with him or something. Actually,” he quickly gave the room an once-over, “there’s a place across the street that’s pretty low key. Go now, before your parents get here. I’ll come by in a half an hour to make sure he’s not beating on you with a pool cue.”
Kevin knew that Noah was a pretty smart guy, but this suggestion just rocketed him into Nobel Prize territory. “God, I feel like such a pussy.”
“But you’re still going to do it. Thirty minutes, bro. Do it.”
The place across the street turned out to be an Irish pub, slightly better than average in that their shoes didn’t automatically stick to the floor, but dark and grimy enough that the crowd across the street wouldn’t migrate over. They found seats at the mostly empty bar, and Kevin resisted the urge to start ordering shots of Jameson; he thought that about four or five might give him enough sack to not start stuttering like a teenager. The only person that could get him anxious enough to binge drink was Mina, and by extension, anyone in her immediate family that wasn’t Jason, especially the older man sitting next to him.
“So,” Mr. Aino started, nodding at the bartender as he slid two beers across the counter.
Kevin couldn’t think of anything to say because, he told himself, he was an idiot, so he nodded.
Mr. Aino cleared his throat. “You look like you could use something stronger.”
They ordered up shots, and it occurred to Kevin that maybe Mina’s father was just as nervous around him as he was. “Kippis,” Mr. Aino raised his glass. “Finnish,” he clarified at Kevin’s perplexed expression. “Just like us.”
“Cheers.” They sat in silence for a few moments, idly watching the baseball game on the television propped over the bar. Kevin idly wondered if Zach was still considering buying a sports team when Mr. Aino put down his glass and interrupted his thoughts.
“Why did you buy that apartment for Mina?”
Kevin defaulted back to stupid mode; he knew this was coming, but hadn’t counted her father to be so blunt about it. If the next question had anything to do with them sleeping together, he would order up a bottle. Of 151. “She needed a studio…” Even in his head, it sounded retarded, doubly so now that he said it out loud.
Mr. Aino’s laugh was dry. “Mina needs a lot of things, to get her head on straight, for one, but that was…” he trailed off and shook his head, taking another swallow. “I guess what I’m trying to ask is what your intentions are.”
Where the hell was Noah? He said a half hour; it must have been at least that long so far, that cock. The bartender must have noticed something was going down, because he hovered at the far corner, wiping glasses and ignoring them. “I think my intentions are obvious, sir.”
Mr. Aino reached for his wallet, and pulled out a wrinkled paper, folded into fourths. “Here, I want to show you this. Be careful; it’s pretty old.”
Kevin took the paper, worn soft from years in creases, and carefully unfolded it. It was a sketch of an egg, with a chicken running in the background, a little crude, but still leaps and bounds above what he could do.
Mina’s father was watching him. “That’s the first thing Mina ever drew. She was only four, if can you believe it. I gave her some paper to keep her occupied while I watched a ball game, and I couldn’t believe it when she showed it to me.” His eyes, bright blue like his children’s, were wistful. “My girl could barely tie her shoes but she could capture the world she saw with a number two pencil.” He paused and nervously rubbed his face. “I know every father thinks their kid is the most special one in all of creation, and half of them won’t shut up about it, but my girl…” He stared down at the pitted bar counter. “The world is a brighter place with her in it.” He laughed to himself, softly. “Here I go, bragging about my kids. Sorry. I just—you know that she was engaged, once.”
Kevin nodded; she had told him the basics, and he had gleaned some details from Raye and Darien, but for the most part, the subject of Casey was like Fight Club, and the first rule of Casey was that you didn’t talk about Casey. Rule Number Three. Jason sometimes spit when his name was mentioned.
Mr. Aino continued. “I didn’t know that he had basically thrown her out in the street until months after it happened, which is probably better for me, since I was so angry after that I couldn’t sleep well for months. I know couples have their problems, and believe me, I’ve been through some myself, but I just couldn’t understand how someone could claim to love my little girl, and want to share their life with her, and then hurt her and throw her away like she was nothing.
I don’t think I could stand that happening to her again.”
Kevin found the words that he couldn’t before. “Mr. Aino.” The older man turned to face him. “That will never happen again. I assure you.”
They looked at each other for a long moment. Kevin reached and folded the picture again, and handed it back to him. “I didn’t need to see this to know she’s special. She shows me, every day.”
Mina’s father visibly relaxed as he tucked the paper lovingly into his wallet. “I pretty much knew you were different; I just needed to hear you say it to my face. When you have a daughter, you’ll understand.
Now,” He waved the bartender over. “I’ll admit, I was kind of nervous bringing this up to you. Want another drink?”
“God, yes.” Mr. Aino reflected a moment.
“Feel better?”
“Getting there.” Off to the side, he noticed Noah entering the bar, followed closely by his father, who had obviously escaped the show and looked as if he had stepped in through the gates of heaven. Oh crap. They had to wrap this up before Will had a chance to introduce them to the obnoxious Irish drunk facet of his personality.
“Good, I’ll keep this last part short. And this is the last time you’ll get crap from me.” He waited until the newly filled shotglass was halfway to Kevin’s mouth before continuing. “Make damn sure you marry her if you knock her up.”
Choking on Jameson fucking hurt, but that was probably Mr. Aino’s intention.
*************************************************************************
Mina held out her wineglass out to the waitress. “Fill me, please.” She drained her glass in seconds as Makoto watched her, blinking.
“You know, you can leave some of that for the rest of us.”
Mina wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Please shut up. I need liquid courage right now. How do I look?”
Makoto gave her a mom look. “Drunker?”
“Good, that’s what I was going for.” She threw her hair back and crossed the room, over to a solitary woman who was holding a glass of red and examining a painting of a skeletal black tree in a field of ash. “Mrs. Chaston?” The woman turned to her, her hair and clothing typically immaculate. Mina wondered if she bought sweater sets in bulk as she reached out and nervously placed a hand on the older woman’s shoulder. Cashmere. Again, typical. “Thank you for coming. It’s great to see you again.”
Mrs. Chaston smiled tightly, which was probably the only way she knew how. “Mina, good to see you.” She gestured at the painting. “Very nice.”
“Thank you.” God, why couldn’t she think of anything to say? It wasn’t like this was the first time they had met, and it really was a big deal that Kevin’s mother had taken time out from…whatever she did to stop by her show, and now that she had her undivided attention, she couldn’t think of squat to say.
Mrs. Chaston turned back to the painting. “I apologize for my husband’s absence. Apparently he found out from one of Kevin’s friends that there is a gathering across the street, and my husband has quite the affinity for Irish pubs, even though he’s only got a drop of Irish in him.” She sniffed. “If that much.”
“Oh, yeah, my dad went with them.” Actually, they had been gone a long time, and she wondered what the hell they were doing there for so long. “My mother’s been looking for him all night. I think she wants to leave soon.”
“Your mother is here?”
“Um, yeah, my parents are visiting for the week.” Mina winced as Jason hit a bad chord.
Kevin’s mother smiled again, this time a little warmer. “I would like to meet her.”
Before they had a chance to move, a couple stepped in front of them, blocking their view of the painting. It was another suit, and his partner was a very tanned, very surgically enhanced woman with matching Louis Vuitton logo boots, belt, and bag. “What do you think about this one?” the suit asked the girl, who dramatically rolled her eyes.
“I don’t know! Can we go now? All these paintings suck. They’re so ugly and creepy.”
“This one’s not too bad.”
The woman scoffed and pushed her bangs off her face with a manicured hand. “Yes, it is. Why are we looking at this crap again? Let’s go to Tao.”
Mina exhaled. This kind of reaction was pretty commonplace in her line of work; after all, not everyone had the same taste, exhibited in the bathroom painting that was constantly being regifted between Kevin and Darien, but that didn’t mean it didn’t absolutely suck when it was shoved right in your face, and rudely. And, like now, ignoring it was the most comfortable, safe bet.
Mrs. Chaston apparently had a different idea.
She stepped up and locked eyes with the woman, her gray eyes sharp as a steel file, and seemed to correct her perfect posture even further. If looks could kill, the other woman would be comfortably tucked in for a dirt nap the day before yesterday. She took Mina by the elbow. “Come, let’s find your mother, dear. You don’t have to listen to this.”
The shock didn’t wear off as she was led away by Kevin’s mother. “Wow, uh, thanks. You didn’t have to do that for me, though.”
Mrs. Chaston graced her with a small glance. “Don’t be foolish, dear. How dare she judge you when she’s not even part of our family.”
Interesting choice of pronoun, Mina thought, a flush of joy running through her head.
**************************************************
“Don’t.” Somewhere under the covers, Kevin moved her hand away from his body. She shifted, trying from another angle.
“No, don’t.”
She didn’t stop trying, using both hands now, cruising on a high that had sustained her through the rest of the show, the intolerable cleanup, and late night Chinese takeout. Raye’s gullible yuppie had taken home two of her works and one of Jesse’s, she had a tentative meeting set up with the writer from The City, Kevin’s mother had practically cut a bitch for her sake, and to top it off, she had snagged the last crab Rangoon moments before her brother could reach for it. All together a perfect night, and now she wanted to top it off in the perfect way.
Kevin grabbed both of her wrists with one hand and tucked himself into a defensive position. “Mina.”
“What? What’s the problem?” She giggled, wriggling until she was on top of him, brushing her barely-covered breasts against his face.
He rolled over, pinning her to the mattress in a last ditch effort that proved ineffective as she started grinding against his hip. “We can’t. Your father is right in the other room.”
She stopped moving “What?”
“He might hear us.”
She glanced across the room. “There’s like, fifteen feet between us and the wall, and on the other side, there’s another huge space before you get to the bed, and my parents are guaranteed sleeping already…”
“I don’t want him to hear anything. And I’ve barely got him to somewhat like me…stop, stop.” He begged. She didn’t stop.
“We can be quiet.” She knew he couldn’t hold out forever; he had returned from the watering hole with Noah and their fathers and hadn’t been in the gallery for five minutes before accidentally kicking over an umbrella stand. Jason was incensed that they hadn’t waited for him.
“You’re never quiet.” He turned so that they lay face to face. “Can I ask you something?”
“OK.”
Kevin stared into her eyes, the same color as her expensive paint, and hesitated. He didn’t know how to start this; there were a lot of questions sitting in the back of his mind. “Why won’t you talk to me about Casey?”
She slid her hands out of his loosened grip, her mood shifting instantly. “Why do you want to know?”
Because you’re still carrying it. Because I want you to know that I would never do what he did to you, whatever it was. Because I love you so much I want to erase every bad thing that ever happened to you in your life and give you nothing but happiness from now on.
“Because.”
She couldn’t meet his eye. “I don’t like talking about it.” Because he betrayed me. Because what he said might be true. Because I’m afraid that if I talk about it, it will happen again and I’ll lose you, and I love you so much but you don’t deserve someone so screwed up. “Besides, it’s not a big deal like everyone makes it out to be.”
She was lying, and he let her.