“That’s okay,” Gianna said smugly. “I’ll sign it for you, even include a note.”
I threw the card back into the cart. “No, you won’t.”
Gianna gave me a pouty face. “He probably misses you.”
“What he misses is tits and ass, told me so himself.”
“Caleb!” Gianna said, glancing around to see if anyone heard me. “Could you not talk like that when we’re in public?”
“Nope,” I answered, ignoring her scandalized expression. “Love me, love my dirty mouth. And, baby, I know you love my mouth.”
“I can’t believe you,” she muttered, blushing.
As she marched ahead of me, I stared unashamedly at her heart-shaped ass. When we got back to her house I was taking her from behind. She turned down an aisle, causing me to swerve right to follow. “What’s Ian’s favorite candy?”
“How the hell should I know?”
“You’re no help,” she huffed. “I’ll just get him a little bit of everything.”
“Starburst,” I told her.
She grinned, bending over to grab a bag.
“I only know because he bitched every other day about wanting some.”
A cruel idea entered my mind. I’d slip inside the care package a picture of me holding a handful of Gianna to rub it in his face that he wasn’t getting any while the hottest chick ever belonged to me.
“Come here, baby,” I told her. She dropped more candy into the cart.
“Why?” she asked, reaching down for Snickers.
“I want to take a picture of us for Ian.”
She moved into my arms while I held my phone outstretched in front of us. “That’s so sweet, Caleb.” She couldn’t see the smug look on my face as I snapped the picture. I’d print this out later after dragging myself off of Gianna.
*****
Jim had asked my mom and me to meet him to pick up the check for my portion of the sales. The three remaining paintings which hadn’t sold yet would be displayed for a while longer at the gallery.
My mom was already in discussions with a larger gallery in New York to get me another exhibit. There were far more artists in the world than there were galleries or collectors, so she wanted us to move fast now that a ripple of momentum had begun.
Painting had become almost as addicting as Gianna, but I aspired to what very few artists achieved, true success. If this career didn’t work out, I’d alter my plans for the future. Any show in New York would be scheduled months in advance, possibly next year.
As we entered the gallery, Norah sat at the front desk. “Jim is waiting in his office for you. He said to just go on back.” My mom and I ignored her, both still pissed about her stunt with Gianna during the show.
Jim sat behind his desk, swiping at the tablet in front of him. His head came up as when we stepped inside his office. “Caleb, Eliza,” he greeted. “Normally the artist has to wait weeks or months for their cut, but I’m hoping to entice you into allowing me to exhibit you again next year.”
“We would love that,” my mom lied smoothly. She wanted international acclaim for her son’s talent and we’d have to look outside of Denver for it.
The amount on the check wasn’t enough to retire on, but it was a promising start. If things went well, art dealers would be able to demand higher prices for my work.
Since I only needed one class to graduate high school, my mom was looking into me taking college art courses though Metro State during my senior year. It’d mean I’d only be at the high school with Gianna half of each school day, but I’d also get a jump start on my degree.
We got to our feet, Jim reaching out to shake our hands. “One more thing.”
He pressed a button on his desk phone and Norah’s voice came over the speaker. “Yes, Jim?”
“Could you come back here, Norah?”
“Be right there.”
She showed up seconds later. “What did you need?” Her tone polite and face blank, she focused only on Jim.
“I lost two sales because of your lack of professionalism at the show. You’re fired, Norah.”
Her face fell as her posture slumped. “But, Jim!” she protested.
He handed a check over to her, also. “That should cover your wages through today.” I hadn’t realized it was a paid internship. It would suck for her to lose it, but she deserved to be fired after the shit she’d pulled.
Walking to the car, I caught the satisfied smile on my mom’s face. “You tattled on her?”
My mom’s grin disappeared. “Do you care?”
“Nope,” I answered, shutting her car door for her.