by Jamie Knight
“Get the fuck out of here, asshole. This is my room.”
“Didn't see your name on the door,” Chris snapped, sitting down on the edge of the bed.
“Diane meant it for me, so Shae and I could be together. She is my wife, after all.”
“Diane is your wife too? Wow, I didn't know polygamy was legal here.”
“Shut up, smart ass! You know I was talking about Shae! She is my wife! We are supposed to share this room.”
“Not according to the divorce papers. I'm not sharing anything with you!” I shouted, suddenly recovered by the power of rage.
“Shae, come on, honey.”
“Don't you dare 'honey' me you piece of shit!”
“But I love you,” Ellis protested, putting on his charming man impression.
“You loved abusing me. Find somewhere else to keep your crap. Or, better yet, fuck off entirely.”
I had dealt with Ellis’ bullshit too many times not to see through him. He was trying to charm his way back into my life like he had when I was twenty-five. The difference was by this time, I had the memories to remind me of what he was really like.
Finally, Ellis stormed off, slamming the door behind him so hard the windows rattled. Chris got up as soon as he was gone, redoing the lock and sliding pennies into the corners.
“What are you doing?”
“Penny locks. I should have taken the key so he can't try it again.”
“I don't think he will,” I said.
“No?”
“No, you handled it beautifully, thank you.”
“Anytime,” he said, sitting back on the bed and kissing me.
“You really weren't scared, were you?”
“Not at all. I could drop him in two moves though it is unlikely to come to that. Besides which anyone with a brain can see that you're totally over Ellis.”
“Everybody but my parents.”
“I think I might have just implied your parents don't have brains,” Chris said, sounding genuinely dismayed.
“It's fine, babe. I mean, they do have brains but also have blinders on when it comes to Ellis.”
Chapter Ten - Chris
I wasn't quite sure what to wear. The setting was country, but the overall feeling from the family was pretty damn rich and preppy. In the end, I decided to go country club with a pair of khakis and a polo shirt.
“Lookin' good,” Shae said, coming back from the bathroom, which was out in the central area of the house.
“Thanks, I wasn't sure about, you know the right note.”
“Interesting metaphor,” Shae said with a good-natured smirk.
“Ah, yes, point taken. Still, though, if I can't fit in with my family, I might as well try and fit in with yours.”
“Interesting theory.” She raised her eyebrows at me, looking doubtful.
Aden and Camilla showed up just in time for dinner, which was both big and casual. There were place settings but set on a cluster of picnic tables around the lake. There were several folding tables lined up near the house set with various serving containers of picnic-style food. However, all the food had a fancy twist. It really was impressive what could be done with a grilled cheese sandwich with a bit of skill and imagination.
“Shall we stake out a table, sugar plum?” I asked, just loud enough to be heard by most people in the immediate area, including Diane and Ellis.
“Of course, babe,” Shae said, doing the same.
We got a good table right between the food table and the lake, giving a good view of both. We left our jackets, and Shae went so far as to literally write our names on the tabletop with a sharpie, so no one could pull the 'don't see your name on it' trick.
Trays well loaded with food and big cups of orange style drink, we returned to the table followed by Aden and Camilla. Much of the talk around us was about Dixie. Much of it veering between the venerating and the damning. Shae and Aden seemed to really look up to their grandmother, despite most of their family seeming to be scandalized by her and her legendary antics. If anything, it warmed me to Dixie without having met her and made me look forward to the opportunity.
We were partway through dessert when Dixie finally showed up in all her finery, including a silk neck scarf and augmented by a pair of dark Jackie-O glasses that looked like they could have been from the First Lady herself.
“Am I fashionably late?”
“No, just really late,” Diane huffed.
“Terribly sorry, the blasted flight was delayed, wouldn't you know?”
“I'm not surprised,” Chester said, earning a smack in the head from his wife.
“Anyhoo. I want y'all to meet Victor,” Dixie said, giving a sort of signal.
A handsome, slender man in his 60's dressed as though he was a teenaged delinquent —from back when “delinquent” was a word that people still said — stepped up to Dixie's side.
“'Allo,” he said, raising a hand in greeting.
“Everyone, I want you to meet Victor Pierre, my new boy toy, we met at a cafe on the banks of the Sine. A bit cliché I know but very romantic none the less.”
“Oui,” Victor agreed, beaming.
“English, darling,” Dixie whispered.
“Yes,” Victor corrected.
“How old is he?” Diane demanded tactlessly.
“A mere pup of sixty and dynamite in bed,” Dixie replied with a mischievous grin.
“Mother!” Diane scream blushing furiously as the rest of the family gasped.
All but Shae and Aden, that is. Shae bursting out in laugher as Aden broke into a polite golf clap. Taking me by the arm, Shae got up and almost ran to her grandma, towing me along with her.
“Oh, hello dear,” Dixie said as she saw Shae approach.
“Dixie, I'd like you to meet Chris. He's my new fiancé.”
There was an awkward pause as Dixie looked me up and down for a good minute, as though sizing me up. Finally, she gave an approving nod.
“Yes, he is much better than that last loser you were dragging around,” Dixie declaimed.
“Hey!” Ellis protested from his spot at Diane's table.
It was about that time that Chester cleared his throat, and Dixie whirled around to look at him like she might pounce at any moment. I wouldn't have put it past her either. She looked pretty damn spry for an eighty-year-old.
“What kind of fool invites an ex-husband to a reunion?” Dixie asked, looking straight at Diane.
“Shae and Ellis belong together. It hath been ordained by God!”
I just crossed my arms and glared at Diane. There were things I could have said, but I was trying to win them over, and besides which, from what I understood, tar and feathering was rather an unpleasant experience.
“Oh, horsefeathers,” Dixie said, standing up for us, “you're a social climber darlin', not a Bishop.”
Another gasp made its rounds among the assembled party. Apparently, that was the first time they had seen anyone talk back to Diane and lived. Though I guessed there were legends of such miracles occurring.
“Which table is yours, dear?”
“Follow me!” Shae gushed.
It was a bit tight, but we managed to squeeze Dixie and Victor Pierre in at our table I spoke to Victor Pierre in French for a while to put him at his ease. He really didn't seem comfortable with English.
“So, Chris, what is your family like?” Dixie asked politely while sipping a very spiked orange drink.
“Musical. The whole lot of them.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, my mom, Gwen Stewart-”
“The soprano?”
“Exactly.”
“So, your daddy is Scott Stewart, the composer?”
“You're on a roll,” I said with a smile.
“Any siblings?”
“My brother Chase.”
“From Dante Street Massacre?”
I was a bit surprised by that one. I didn't know a lot of octogenarians who were into European influenced Symphon
ic Metal. Dixie really was full of surprises.
“You must be musical too, yeah?” she asked.
I laughed embarrassedly. “No, not really. I mean, I like it, but the genes must have skipped over me.”
“Oh, what are you into.”
“Art.”
“Oh, what kind of art?” Dixie asked, getting really interested.
“Illustration mostly. Pencil and ink, of course. I'm old school that way, though I also like painting.”
She clapped her hands. “What a coincidence! I just got back from a master painting class in Paris!”
“You don't say,” I said, feigning surprise.
“It's true! I even have my smaller portfolio! The bigger one had to be shipped separately, damn TSA!”
“No argument there,” I said.
Dixie reached into her purse and pulled out a roughly 9x11 portfolio book, laying it on the table between us. Switching into professional mode, I took up the portfolio and started going through it. I couldn't help but wonder if Dixie was trying to shock me or if the collection was some kind of test. The majority of the paintings were nudes of older men. Not my favorite subject in the world, but I stayed profession, taking note of the materials and Dixie's overall technique.
“Interesting soft brush technique,” I mused.
“You recognize that on sight?”
“Art History major,” I said, handing back the portfolio.
“Really? What have you managed to do with that?”
“I'm the art director at a successful graphic design firm in Las Vegas,” I said without bragging.
“Gosh! Handsome, talented, and a great job! This one's a keeper, honey!”
I was glad to have so impressed Dixie. Shae's parents still didn't like me much, though Chester showed it a lot less than Diane, whose seething malice was almost palpable. However, Dixie was the one whose opinion Shae seemed to hold in the highest regard, and she struck me as someone who didn't suffer fools gladly, or at all. Definitely a win.
We were the last to leave our table as it turned dark, most of the attendees rushing inside, no doubt to gossip about Dixie and her numerous acts of rebellion. One of those was most likely being friendly with me, the home-wrecking interloper — despite the fact Shae was already divorced when we met.
“You're not going to leave me for Grandma Dixie, are you?” Shae asked as we made our way to the house.
I hummed a minute as I held her hand. “Well, she clearly likes younger guys and, judging by her portfolio, could definitely use some younger models.”
She gasped playfully. “I knew it! You're trying to steal my grandma away!”
“Guilty as charged.”
We both laughed, and I kissed her gently. It was the most fun we'd had in a while, the stress of the upcoming reunion weighing down on both of us. The worst of it was over, and we had made it out alive. It felt terrific to be making such a close connection to Shae and her grandma. I was starting to see where Shae got some of her wildness that was beginning to show itself.
We went to our room and I penny locked the door, putting a chair under the knob for good measure to keep us from being disturb. Particular if Shae was feeling frisky. Alone, at last, we gently undressed each other until we were both naked.
Shae took my hand, leading me to bed, where we cuddled until we fell asleep. She was a bit too drained for any funny business. As I listened to her softly breathing beside me, I realized that I had gotten a hint of what it might be like to be in a family who really understood me and my mad devotion to art.
Chapter Eleven - Shae
I was awake first. It was something of a rarity but I was so excited I could understand why. Chris had morning wood like he usually did. I gave a moment's thought to climbing up on him for a nice wakeup call but decided to just let him sleep.
Undoing Chris's extra security, I pulled on some sweats and a T-shirt over my wonton nakedness, left the safety of our room, and ventured downstairs. I knew I was going to have to have it out with Ellis eventually, and I might as well get it over with and out of the way. He would probably be upset and definitely huffy, but I didn't care. I'd seen him huffy before and was no longer afraid of him.
There was no one around when I got downstairs. It must have been very early indeed. Both Mom and Dad were used to waking up with the rooster. I checked out the window to make sure it was actually light, confirming I hadn't just imagined the whole thing. I was, in fact, in the living room of my family's lavish two-floor lake house.
Through the almost total silence, I heard a light brushing sound coming from the dining room. Figuring it to be some poor creature trapped somewhere, I went to free it, finding Grandma Dixie instead. She had everything set up for painting and was sitting at the head of the table near one of the big windows.
“Oh, good morning, darlin'.”
“What are you doing, Grandma?”
“Paintin', what does it look like?”
“Now?” I asked, going around to see what she was painting.
“The light is best at this time of day.”
I had nothing to say to that and not only because Chris was the subject of her most recent painting. I comforted myself with the fact that at least he wasn't naked. His body was actually a bit of a blur at the time, but the face of the painting was very well rendered and immediately recognizable.
“I would like to see some of his advertisements,” Dixie said, not looking away from her work.
As though it were a magical command, I got my phone from the pocket of my sweatpants and looked for some of the firm's work online. There were a few still images from billboard campaigns and a handful of videos of Sure Things’ advertisements. I wasn't sure what to show her until I came across a sort of montage, including several pieces from the last few years. It was part of a series called The Art of Advertising hosted on a free streaming site.
“Most of the animated bits were done by Aden, based on Chris's storyboards,” I pointed out, handing her the phone.
“This wonderful!” Dixie exclaimed as the video ran. “They kind of remind me of the old days.”
“I think that's the point. Chris is really into old advertisements, back when they were like art. He has a lithograph of an illustration of the logo for Bayer's heroin from back when it was a company brand name.”
“That's great!” Dixie exclaimed with a hearty laugh.
“He certainly is an odd duck — ”
“But, you love him to bits, right?”
“Yeah,” I said blushing.
“That's certainly understandable, sweetie. He's a real catch. After seeing this, I think I might marry him.”
“Grandma!”
She grinned. “Or at least have him do the posters for my next exhibition.”
“I'm sure he would. I mean, he's pretty good at drawing, particularly in the old style, but if you had the company do it, there are some really great artists on staff.”
“Do you have anything of his?”
“Yeah, actually. Turns out, I'm one of the few who ever go on his tumblr.”
I pulled up the page and gave the phone back to Dixie, who started scrolling through the images. I thought she might cry.
“I don't know what dame fool told you he wasn't good, but these are beautiful!”
“He did actually. Or at least he wasn't as good as Aden or the other illustrators at the company.”
“Hogwash! I mean Aden's work is good, but I've never really liked computer graphics. Chris's work has soul to it.”
I certainly could argue with her there. I wasn't really sure what Chris was talking about when he said he wasn't very good either. Though it was possible he meant compared to others, which is a perilous thing to do. Dixie always said the only fair comparison is to your former self.
“People are trying to sleep, you know!” Ellis shouted, stomping into the dining room.
“So sorry, your eminence!” Dixie quipped, not looking up from the phone.
“You’re g
etting really fat,” Ellis said to me with a disgusted grimace.
I pulled up my shirt even more with a big smile, actually making Ellis turn away at what was apparently the horrible sight of the beginning of my baby bump.
“I have a real man to get me pregnant,” I said, glad I no longer had to play nice. I was free of his influence or vengeance and could enjoy ruffling his feathers.
“I—”
“Then again, his cock is so huge I wouldn't be surprised if I was having triplets!”
“Knew it,” Dixie smirked, not looking up from the phone. I tried not to think about what kind of R. Crumb monstrosity she might be adding when she got to the anatomical portion of her current painting.
“C-can we go for a walk, please? Shae?” Ellis asked, suddenly minding his manners.
“You can follow me to the kitchen. I'm getting orange juice.”
He groaned. “Are you sure you wouldn't prefer a stroll by the lake? It's so lovely this time of day.”
“Positive,” I said, crossing my arms.
“When did you get to be such a bitch?” Ellis spat, his frustration overcoming his attempts to be charming.
“Sometime in the last five years. My weapons of bitchiness were forged in the fires of your massive narcissism.”
“That's really not fair. I did my best to —”
“What? Make my life a living hell? Well congratu-fucking-lations, gold star work.”
“W-we need to try again. I-I've changed-”
“Your manipulation tactics? Not as far as I can tell. Sorry sunshine. I'm immune from your powers of charm. Although there is one thing I guess I have to thank you for. One advantage of being a bitch is that it is a lot easier to see right through smooth-talking assholes. You took advantage of me and my innocence, you creep! Well, not anymore!”
“Will you at least give me back my signed NFL helmet?”
“It's mine now. By judges order.”
“Fine, I'll buy it from you then.”
“No. You can’t,” I said, leaving him standing there dumbly as my mom came in signaling to him.
“What's the good news?” I could hear her asking Ellis as they walked out.
I felt pretty frustrated but not actually angry. I knew first-hand how convincing Ellis could be when he got going. Particularly when he was selling bullshit that people wanted to believe, truth be damned. For Mom, all that was really true was what was written in the Bible and the insanity bouncing around in her own head. I was glad that madness didn't seem to be genetic in our family.
