Red(26)

“Yeah, that sounds cool. Thanks. I’ll check it out.”

“Actually, a couple of friends and I were thinking about driving down to see them. If you wanted, maybe you could, um, come with us … ?”

Before Felicity could answer, she heard a low whistle behind her, similar to the wolf whistles she sometimes got walking past construction sites in shorts. When she turned around, indignant, she discovered Brent leaning against the doorjamb. “Wow, babe, you look hot,” he said, giving her the same look of hungry appreciation he usually reserved for the chocolate caramel clusters at Crimson Confections.

Felicity gave Jonathan an apologetic smile and went to hug her boyfriend. She resented the wolf whistle, but the fact that he was actually here canceled out some of her annoyance. Although she’d told him about the art show countless times, she had never expected him to show up. She put her arms around his neck and let him run his hands over her hips, and she heard Jonathan’s footsteps retreating behind her.

The moment Brent released her, he shot a dirty look at Jonathan across the room. “What were you talking about with that guy?”

“Jonathan? He was just telling me about this gallery in Des Moines.”

“Looked like he was asking you out or something.”

“What? No! Of course not. I mean, he invited me to go see this exhibit with him and his friends, but that’s not the same as asking me out.”

Brent’s jaw stiffened, as if he were trying to bite through a stick of stale beef jerky. “He looked all nervous.”

“He always looks like that. It has nothing to do with me.”

“But you’re not going with him, right?”

“I haven’t decided. He just asked three seconds ago.” Felicity reached out and touched Brent’s cheek. “Hey, I won’t go if you don’t want me to, okay? It’s really not a big deal.” But even as the words came out of her mouth, she heard how wrong they sounded. If she wanted to go to the gallery, she should go. Brent shouldn’t be allowed to tell her what to do.

“You want to go to the gallery with me instead?” she teased, trying to lighten the mood. “Then I won’t have to go with Jonathan.”

Brent opened his mouth to respond, but having to choose between two horrors—allowing his girlfriend to go out with another guy or driving all the way to Des Moines to see art—left him speechless. Felicity laughed, unable to stay mad at him when he looked so clueless. “Why don’t we walk around?” she suggested. “I’ll show you my sculpture.”

“Yeah, okay.” Brent squeezed her butt. “This dress is seriously awesome. You should wear stuff like this all the time.”

She led Brent across the hall to her sculpture. Her mom was already there, circling it slowly and inspecting all the tiny pictures up close. As soon as Brent saw her, he stood up a little straighter and quickly moved his hand up to Felicity’s waist. “Hi, Mrs. St. John, how’re you doing tonight?” he asked, morphing into a wholesome all-American boy. Brent had always had a way with parents.

“I’m great, Brent, honey. Thanks for asking.” Ginger wound a strand of coppery hair around her finger and batted her eyelashes, and Felicity had to stifle the urge to gag. She really wished her mother wouldn’t flirt with her boyfriend. Then again, Ginger would probably flirt with a Christmas tree if it had a red wig perched on the top.

“What do you think of the sculpture, Mom?” Felicity asked, trying to redirect her mother’s attention.

“Oh, Felicity, it’s just wonderful. Look at all these tiny pictures of you! It must have taken you ages to glue them on here. And you look so gorgeous in all of them!” Ginger peered closely at an image on the sculpture’s knee. “Can I have a copy of this one for my desk at work, baby? Your hair looks so striking. You should start using this as a head shot.”

Felicity wasn’t surprised that her mom was fixated on the sculpture’s bright shiny skin and couldn’t see the piece as a whole, but she was disappointed nonetheless. “Okay. I’ll make you a copy. But you’re not really supposed to look at the photos separately. It all goes together.”

“It’s such a great shot of you, though. They all are. My beautiful girl. I’m so proud of you.” Felicity’s mom beamed at her.

Brent was taking cues from Ginger and looking at the individual photos from a few inches away. “This is really awesome, Lissy,” he said.

“Thanks.” In an attempt to give them both a clue, she said, “It’s called Skin-Deep.”

Brent nodded. “Oh, ’cause the pictures, like, make a skin? That’s cool.” He walked around and looked at the back of the sculpture’s head. “I can’t believe you made this. It totally looks like a real artist did it.”

Felicity assumed Brent had meant to compliment her, but the comment still stung. “I am a real artist, Brent.”

“No, I mean … you know what I mean. Like, a professional.”

A burst of her brothers’ laughter drifted across the hall, and Ginger straightened up. “Did you leave the boys alone?”

“I’ll go check on them.” Felicity headed for the other room, eager to put as much distance as possible between her mom, her boyfriend, and herself.

The boys were by the food table, right where she’d left them, deep in conversation with Jonathan. “Do you know what we’re going to be when we grow up?” she heard Andy demand as she approached.