The exhibition today had given me perspective of what I’d want to do with my skills, though.
DeeDee was at the door, wearing insanely high neon pink stilettos and greeting people. I waved at Gabriel, who barely fit his huge gargoyle wings through the door and dazzled everyone with his Hollywood smile.
“Ah I see why the exhibit is called The Little Devil.” He approached us and reached out to Kert for a handshake. “Lovely to meet the muse, the legend.”
Kert grinned and shook his hand. “And the owner of that ass?” He waved his tail at the walls full of my art.
“Don’t feed his ego, Gabriel.” I chuckled, bumping knuckles with the guy. “Although it deserves to be fed.”
“Lovely to see you happy, my friend. I contacted Spiros, and he’s game for renting my house next December.” He waved to someone behind me. “I see that our club gang showed up. I’ll go say hi.” He patted my shoulder and joined the crowd.
I nuzzled Kert’s neck. “I’m inspired for something tonight.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“I have a box of body paint with your name on it. You’ll be my canvas tonight, Kert.”
The Following December.
I sat on the double bed in my childhood room in my parent’s house, inhaled the mixed aromas of Christmas food, and closed my eyes.
Kert and I had spent the past three weeks with his dads in New York, showing them around. This year, I’d planned trips before Christmas better to avoid being snowed in, or any other winter disasters, and invited Kert’s dads to my family home for Christmas. We’d had several days of our parents bonding with scary enthusiasm, singing karaoke, and yelling obscenities about the stupidity of the politics regarding cryptids.
After that, I’d taken Kert to the beaches I’d loved swimming at when I was a kid, and had shown him around my hometown.
Now we were waiting for the rest of the extended family to arrive at my parents’ house and quite possibly attack Kert with a gazillion awkward questions. He’d charm everyone, I was certain.
This year, it was Spiros’s turn to be away for the holidays. Hopefully, he was having the time of his life, or discovering what he wanted to do with it while staying at Gabriel’s house in Chicago.
“Hey, everyone is looking for you.” Ner poked his head through the door. “Kert’s horns are the talk amongst the ladies at the table, and he’s cracking jokes. And his tail—like a bullwhip. The entire family adores him.” The perks of having Ner as an older brother were far beyond him, paving a way with theparents for me and Spiros to do whatever we wanted. He’d also tell me the truth, even if it was harsh.
“And do you?” I asked Ner. Kert was easy to love, but winning over extended family was not the same as brotherly approval.
Ner’s expression softened. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you, and how you smile when he does it. I’m happy for you.” A low murmur came behind him. “I found him.” Ner turned around and kissed his boyfriend, Rick. The big, muscled rockstar had awakened the love of music in Ner, and I’d be forever grateful to him for that. They would soon be back on tour with their bandSwimming with the Sharksto promote their fourth studio album, and life on the road seemed to agree with them.
“We’ll have two days in New York after a concert in February,” Rick said, squeezing past Ner. “Could we see the gallery with your paintings in?”
“Yeah, of course.” I stood up and followed them out of the room.
“We can pop into the new gallery you painted in Chicago when we have a festival there in June too.” Ner added. “I’d love to see it.”
“I can meet you there. Just tell me when.” After my paintings gained recognition in the art circle, word had gotten around about my work in hospitals and galleries, and I’d been getting offers to paint walls in museums, schools, and wedding venues. Since I could have my pick, my art was now adorning children’s wings in ten different states.
“Marinos! You’re on my shitlist!” Grandma’s voice boomed through the house.
“You’re so fucked.” Ner chuckled, grabbed Rick by the hand, and dragged him away.
“What did I do?” I marched bravely, facing my grandma, her huge, purple tentacles floating in the air. “You didn’t tell me Kert’s parents were in the resistance in the nineties.”
“We fought against the Cure and the idiocy of the policy so the next generation wouldn’t have to,” Sam said, reaching for his husband’s hand.
She chuckled, smiling at me. “I’m just fucking with you to get you out.”
I looked at everyone’s grinning faces, from Tomek and Robert, the cousins from Poland, to my mom with her tentacles loose and pulling my father to her.
“Marin?” Kert’s voice sounded behind me.
I turned to see the light of my life, my sneaky devil on one knee, grinning at me.
