“Will says we’re not allowed to touch his game,” she said with an emphasized pout. “He’s a meanie, and he doesn’t share.”
“Sharing is caring,” Emma yelled out, launching off the coffee table to land knees-first onto the single couch cushion protecting Adrian’s chest. He coughed and spluttered, face red as a tomato. It would’ve been funny if the timing of this visit hadn’t been way off.
I loved the kids. Their summer visits were one of the highlights of the year, and not just for me either. Miles and Adrian were crazy about them, too. But high season in Boston?
“I gotta take this.” Miles walked out with his phone to his ear.
Adrian extricated himself from the couch cushion demolition site with some effort. “The gallery?”
That was my best guess. Our client’s high-profile exhibition launch would officially kick off holiday madness for Lumen Events, and we were meant to meet with the manager this afternoon. Adrian read my mind, a look of unease settling over his face as we took in the unbridled chaos of the living room. There was no way our company would survive the holidays without a lifeline.
“Makes me wish they were all pre-pubescent, video game-obsessed introverts,” he muttered, nodding at Will, who’d disappeared into his bubble again.
“They’re just bored,” I said, moving back to the dining room. Huddles usually happened in my office, but I didn’t want to have the kids out of sight for too long. “If I’d had a heads up, I would’ve prepared. Picked up the usual bag to keep ‘em busy.”
I wasn’t accusing him, but Adrian became real defensive real quick. “The way they breezed in and out of here made me think they’d cleared it with you. I didn’t know you had no idea.”
Not the first time my brother pulled something like this, and breezed was putting it mildly. They didn’t care that I wasn’t even home at the time. Just dropped the kids off, said something about their documentary, and not knowing when they’d be back, then left.
“How are those sketches coming?” I changed the subject. Behind us, Emma and Sadie were continuing their jumping competition to the soundtrack of whatever the hell was happening on that godforsaken Switch. Contained chaos. I was fine with that.
Adrian slid his portfolio case onto the dining room table, and zipped it open with a flourish. His tousle with the kids was now only evident in the ridiculous flair of the tangled mop of blond hair on his head, unruly in a different way. I couldn’t help but think he represented what we’d all end up looking like at the end of this spontaneous, indefinite sleepover with the kids.
“Picture this,” he said, pulling the first two sketches out. Unsurprisingly, they were breathtaking. Fully detailed. And much to Miles and my ongoing jealousy, probably done with his eyes closed and hands tied behind his back.
I stepped closer to get a better view. “Why don’t you bring me into the picture, Ace?”
His grin told me everything I needed to know. This was going to be a journey, and I expected nothing less. There was a good reason behind the nickname, and his prominent position on our team as Supreme Visionary. Granted, the title was all his doing, but he’d earned it.
“We have oversized mirrors suspended from the ceiling,” he said, talking me through it. “That way, the exhibition will be a deeper look into self as much as it is into Leckov’s art.”
“I don’t think that’s our call to make,” I replied, almost afraid to give feedback this early into his big reveal. “The artist obviously has his own vision for what—”
“A carpet of fall leaves. The whole gallery,” Adrian went on, sweeping his arms wide to drive it home. “I’m not sure how I’m gonna get them to crunch underfoot, but I’ll figure it out. Color, texture—” He pulled out some more designs and spread them out.
As if that would help me come to terms with the suggestion.
“Crunch?”
“Because it’s fall.” He seemed annoyed that he had to spell it out.
“The gallery wants the finalized color palette today,” Miles said, coming back in. “That was Cara. The install crew’s booked for Tuesday, so we need to do our thing before then.”
The girls broke from the living room, their feet sounding like a herd of rogue buffalo on the hardwood floor. Emma screeched something at me, eyes wide with fear. But my screech translator had been acting up, and I was about to ask her to repeat it when the reason behind her panic became clear. Her kid sister gave chase, armed with a perfectly aimed juice box and a devilish glint in her eye.
The guys and I shouted at the same time: “Sadie, no!”
It played out in slow motion. Her sticky fingers squeezed down, the juice box crumpled, and a steady stream of red squirted from the straw. It arced high, and would’ve totally found its target if my niece wasn’t so damn fast. Instead, it missed her asshe zoomed past, and landed in a streak of droplets across the exposed sketches.
We stared at the massacre, unable to move or say anything. In my periphery, the kids continued the juice assault, ducking and sprinting around our legs. More sprays landed on Adrian’s hard work. That tooth-grinding sound from Will’s video game bled through it all, like some uncanny soundtrack to the disaster my holiday season was about to become.
“I’m all out of sienna,” Adrian lamented as he took in the ruins. “A month of work. A month.”
Miles sighed and stuck his hands into his pockets. “I’ll swing by the pet store on my way out to pick up more supplies. Get two of those doggy crates.”
That got our attention. Adrian and I looked up at the same time. Miles’ composure didn’t budge.
“And two of those industrial-grade padlocks,” he said. “We’ll push their meals through the bars, wheel ‘em outside once a day for some fresh air… Play our cards right, and we won’t have to let them out until your brother confirms he’s on his way to get them.”
