She's a sculptor and pottery artist, and now she's trying her hand at running an art gallery with her friend, Rita, who put up a chunk of the money to get it started. Rita is something of a cougar (older woman on the prowl sexually, if I understand right) and she has ADHD, so once the gallery opens, she is off to the next thing--in this case, she wants to do a New York art gallery show with the artists in the gallery she and Callie run. They are also working on recruiting other artists in their area to showcase.

Rita totally stresses Callie out, and now that our hero (her ex) wants to hook back up with her, Callie is really on the edge.

Callie dumped the sweetbread onto the table and tore a piece off. “Surprisingly okay,” she admitted, unsure whether she wanted to tell her friend about inviting him over on Saturday evening. After being divorced three times, Rita would not approve of Callie conceding anything to Hayden, not even for the sake of the dogs.

“Really?” Rita slurped at her coffee and dribbled a bit down her chin. She swore and dabbed at her face with a paper napkin just before the beverage dripped onto her pristine white silk blouse.

“Really.” Nibbling at the bread, Callie reflected on the weekend. “I thought we were going to have a grand fight during the dinner on Friday, but it didn’t work out.”

“What? With all of your ammo, you couldn’t think of a single way to start a fight with that dirty dog?”

She almost laughed at her friend’s choice of words. “Hayden’s really not that bad.”

Rita’s fastidious blonde eyebrows shot up her forehead. “You slept with him, didn’t you?”

“Good heavens, no.” She’d considered it, though.

“Yes, you did. You’re face is on fire with guilt. Spill the details!”

“You got me,” Callie said, putting down her cup. “After our reunion at the pub, we took off for Mesquite and spent the weekend humping like rabbits.”

“No you didn’t.” Rita crossed her legs and leaned back in the chair. “I would have gone away for a weekend of meaningless sex, but you’d never abandon Janie like that.”

They had known each other casually since before Callie graduated from the university. One of her student friends had been dating Rita, an interior designer several years older than the art students. They’d met in between husbands number two and three. Over the years, they had traveled in the same artistic circles and bumped into each other frequently. After Callie’s divorce, the idea of starting a gallery together had just clicked the way that Hayden had described the previous evening—things had just come together. Their doors had been open almost a year now.

Rita’s bare legs shifted beneath the hem of her slim red skirt, and she kicked one red stiletto back and forth while she sipped her latte. “You haven’t asked me how New York went.”

“Aren’t you exhausted? That was a quick trip.” After flying to New York and back in three days, Callie had thought her friend would be home in bed today.

“I’m always running on pure adrenaline, sweetie. You know that. Besides,” she leaned forward to whisper, “sex always gives me energy.”

Shaking her head, Callie started laughing. “Did you really fly out there for work, or did you just need to scratch that itch?”

“I worked.” Rita’s green eyes sparkled, hinting at the mischief she was always into. “Then I played.”

“So? What did they say?”

“It’s still a go. We have to put the show together and audition some pieces from the other artists. Once they are accepted, we’ll make the final arrangements. You know what clinched it, don’t you?”

She frowned. “Jody’s series of Apache sculptures?”

“I didn’t show them the Southwestern slides while I was there. Our agent is going to show the new pictures to the gallery owner next week.”

Callie made the connection. Rita hadn’t met with the people from the gallery. She’d only seen their agent. “You slept with Alan!” Taking in air became difficult. “I think I’m having a heart attack.” Clutching the arm of the chair, she concentrated on deep breathing. Rita’s track record with men wasn’t exactly stellar. What would happen when she broke up with their New York agent? Having the future of the show tied up in her partner’s romance twisted Callie’s stomach.

“Relax. We’re just friends with benefits. No nasty relationship tangles to botch the deal. We simply had a fantastic weekend together.”

“I hope you paid for the tickets yourself,” Callie grumbled. “You’re going to have a hard time convincing the IRS that was a business trip.”

“Not at all, darling.” Rita’s self-satisfied smile put Callie’s nerves over the edge. “Once the show comes together, no one will question it.”

“Next time your boy toy can fly out here,” Callie said. The pressure of the show was killing her. She wanted to stick to running their gallery, making back their investment, and building up the local artist community. Rita was the one with dreams of grandeur. She wasn’t happy without a big project to manage. Once The Artist’s Corner got up and running, she’d quickly grown bored and moved on to her next endeavor.

Callie didn’t care as long as their gallery didn’t suffer. The average small business went bust within five years, and she didn’t intend to be another statistic.

“Aren’t you the least bit curious?” Rita stood behind the cream leather couch in the conversation area caressing the leather like a lover.

“I don’t want to hear about your weekend with Alan.” She was going to hurl.

“Not that, silly. The show. The knockout punch.”

Shrugging, Callie said, “Sure, I’ll bite. What did you show him this time that he hadn’t seen before? Besides your personal assets, I mean.”

“Your paintings.”

Tomorrow morning Callie would call her doctor’s office and get her blood pressure checked. She waited for the roaring in her ears to die down before she spoke. “My paintings are terrible.” Her voice cracked, and she cleared her throat before continuing. “What on earth did you show them?”

Alan’s taste in art must be as bad as his taste in women if he liked her work. She’d given up painting her first semester in school and turned her attention to clay. Some of her paintings were still in the gallery’s storage locker, but she’d tossed the rest out when they moved into the building.

“The post-divorce series.”

Groaning, Callie sandwiched her head between her hands. “You showed those wretched things to actual human beings?” She should have thrown them away but she hadn’t gotten enough emotional distance yet, so into the storage locker they went.

Apparently she should have made sure she had the only key before she’d put her work in there.

“Technically I only showed them to one human being.”

Posted at 12:38 PM by Grace Tyler :: 0 comments