The man pressed his tablet to his chest, folding his arms over it. He clutched it like a shield. “Yes, ma’am.”
I turned my attention back to my mother. I knew she would have to leave. She was pretty strict about being punctual, especially if she had arranged the meeting, whatever it was.
“I do have to go, Junior. I have a fitting at Charlotte’s for an evening gown. She found me a beautiful Ralph Lauren gown, but it needs to be taken in a little.”
I stepped back and gave my mother’s figure a quick perusal. “Have you lost weight, Mother?”
She was too small as it was. I had inherited my fine bone structure from my mother. While I looked good in a sheer shirt and G-string, most people looked at me and sawpansy.
It was something I had been fighting my entire life.
“No.” My mother smiled broadly as if I had given her a compliment. “The woman who ordered the dress canceled the order after it arrived at the shop. Charlotte is giving me a deal on it, but it needs to be taken in a little.”
“I’m sure you’ll look lovely.” How could she not? My mother would look beautiful dressed in a gunnysack.
I leaned in and pressed a kiss to my mother’s cheek.
She patted mine.
“I’ll see you Saturday, then?”
“Yes, dear. Your father and I will be here a little before the doors open. I want to make sure everything is in order.”
“I’m sure it will be, Mother.”
God forbid it wasn’t. No one wanted to be on the receiving end of my mother’s anger.
I watched as my mother marched out of the art gallery like a general marching into battle, her assistant close on her heels. If I had been him, I would have run as soon as I was outside. Even from where I stood, I could hear my mother berating the man.
It wasn’t easy to be my mother’s assistant. She was a difficult woman at the best of times. But she truly meant well. If she trusted you, there wasn’t anything she wouldn’t do for you. If her assistant could stick out long enough to earn that trust, he’d have it made.
Once the door closed behind my mother and her assistant, I turned to amble back to the guys. I turned with a smile on my face when I heard the door open again. “What’d you forget?”
Uh-oh.
I swallowed tightly at the five incredibly large men who walked in. They were dressed nicely; two of them even wore suits. Hugo Boss, if I wasn’t mistaken.
It was the assessing way they looked around the gallery that was creepy.
Maybe I could get them to leave.
“Can I help you?”
I was surprised when the shortest of all the men stepped forward.
“Ivan Stravinsky.” I shook the guy’s hand when he held it out to me. It was the polite thing to do, after all. “I’m here to look at some art.”
“I’m sorry, but the gallery is not open at this time.” I gestured to several of the painting boxes still littering the floor. “We’re setting up for an event.”
“An event?” Ivan asked.
“Yes. There will be a special art showing this Saturday.” I walked over to one of the tables and grabbed a program. Even if the guys gave me the willies, I still wanted to promote Eddie’s paintings. I handed the program to the man.
Ivan opened it and started reading through it, giving me time to assess the men with him. I was used to being around people bigger than me. They shouldn’t be giving me the creeps, and yet they did. I wanted to know why.
It took less than ten seconds of looking to know at least four of the men were armed. The three guys in the back—the ones not in suits—had shoulder holsters on under their jackets. The bulge was unmistakable.
The other man in a suit walked with one leg heavier than the other, telling me that he had a gun in his boot.
