“Because my mother invited you.”
“She might’ve called. And she didn’t even have to shout over hoochie mating cries to be heard.”
Now my face heated a little. Was I projecting a little when it came to Landon? Maybe not every guy was as crappy as my former boss. But then again, Landon seemed to be on the bar circuit a lot, even if he never brought his conquests home to the apartment.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, looking down at my chunky black Skechers. When I looked up, his smirk had softened.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Mom has some kind of surprise announcement. She won’t tell me what it is.”
“If she told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise.” Now the twinkle was back.
“Oh, shut up.”
“Yeah, shut up,” Ez called from across the room. “I’m making art here.”
Chapter 2
The burgers were accompanied by Aunt Ginny’s homemade potato salad, grilled corn on the cob, my mom’s fruit salad — heavy on chunks of watermelon — and wilted spinach with garlic and butter. I didn’t care if I’d be breathing garlic fire later. I was crazy about spinach and garlic and plus, I needed my vitamins, especially since I was more of a forager than a cook. I dug in like Popeye and tried not to think about whatever Mom was going to tell us.
She’d made the dessert. Another bad sign. She always baked as therapy. Only this wasn’t exactly baked.
“Johanna made her famous Oreo cookie ice cream dessert, so I hope you left some room,” Aunt Ginny said as she got up from the dining-room table and headed to the kitchen.
“I’ll help you dish it up,” Mom said, and my dread kicked up a notch. “Just stay there, Kayla, and entertain our guests,” she added as I stood, ready to give them a hand.
“I’ll get the coffee,” Jay volunteered, following them.
“Nice art,” Landon said as I retook my seat.
“What?”
My mom’s empty seat was at the end of the table, next to mine. Landon and I were seated across from Gary and Ez. Ez was chatting with Grandma at the other end, explaining exotic musical instruments made by the company she worked for.
“Nice art,” Landon repeated. “The paintings. Originals, right?” He gestured to the walls of the light and airy dining room, which had a large window that showcased the golden-hour sunlight and helped illuminate the colorful canvases that hung around us.
“Mom’s been collecting for years,” said Gary from across the table, since I was too deep in my thoughts to respond properly. “She’s always had an eye. Especially for picking up artists before they get famous.”
“And expensive,” Landon said.
Gary chuckled. “That too.”
“Hey, I’ve got some work for you on a project we’re doing on Merritt Island,” Landon said to Gary. “Big riverfront house. They want to gild the lily with some architectural foam. Fancy window trim.”
“Awesome. The art school never pays enough.”
“But you’re selling more of your ceramic work now, right?” I asked my cousin.
Gary smiled. “Yeah, it’s starting to pick up,” he said modestly. “I’m in a few galleries around town now, and I’ve scheduled a show in Miami.”
“Fantastic!” I said. Everyone knew Gary was a potter prodigy.
“As long as you have time for me, man,” Landon said. “They’ll pay well. I make it clear they’re getting the best.”
“Thanks,” Gary said.
I looked at Landon again in puzzlement. He was being sonice.
