Turning, I spot Jacinda and Kami. I met Kami a while back at Laraline’s spicy book club, and then I found out recently that she’s also friends with Jacinda, as they attend the same Pilates class. She’s also Sloane Alexander’s babysitter for his son, Scott. I liked her immediately; her sweet nature and infectious laugh are awesome to be around. Not to mention she’s in school to become an elementary school teacher. She’s going to be perfect at it once she graduates.
“Um. Let’s put the cocktail tables up first. The caterer is coming with the rest of the food and I know they have tables with them.”
“I cannot wait. Your soon-to-be sister-in-law is catering my art show. The wait list for Piattino is like months in advance, and she’s going to cater my show!” Jacinda does a little jig, and I smile, liking that she’s happy. She took a chance on me to display her art, and I want to make her proud. Over the last months of planning, preparing, and tonight it will happen. I invited hundreds of people. Some never responded, but through social media, I got some great feedback. There are even a few well-known art buyers coming, and fingers crossed, Jacinda gets some buyers. There are at least three of her installations that I would love to own, but my small apartment has zero room.
I glance around the table, take all her pieces, highlighted to perfection. They look spectacular in the space. Ready to be put on display, ready to put herself out there.
“Everything looks so good, Cam. Like seriously professional. I don’t even know what to say.” She tears up and hugs me. I return her hug before pulling away.
“You did all the work. I was just here to help make sure people saw it.”
“But hundreds of people are coming. This is some fancy shit. Like I was okay just showing it on my socials, but this.” Jacinda waves her hand around, biting her lower lip.
“And you deserve everyone one of those hundred people. Your work is incredible. Everyone is going to love it.”
Kami hugs her. “Cam’s right, Cind. I’ve been telling you for over a year now that your art is amazing. It’s your time to shine.”
“Thanks, Kami, and don’t remind me about all the people coming, Cam! The people I follow that I never thought I’d meet will be looking at my work. I think I may shit myself.”
She looks so nervous; I don’t tell her that it won’t just be bloggers and followers, but also art magazines and critics. If I tell her that one of the most premier art critics in the northeast will be here too, she just might pass out. When I contacted Alejandra Muñoz and told her I was Camryn Park, she was taken aback.
“The Park Heiress? Now this is a surprise. What does a billionaire want with me?”
I ignored her dig. I liked that she has never been in awe of my father’s money. “I want you to see an artist I’m showcasing in my new gallery.”
“Hmmm. New gallery, huh? Interesting. Why me?”
I didn’t beat around the bush. “Because you’re the best art critic and dealer on the East Coast. You know talent. You’ve helped so many artists get their work into hands of the right collectors and she’s good. Really fucking good.”
“Just who is this really fucking great artist?”
From the way she said it, I could sense her excitement, her intrigue. We spent some time talking about Jacinda, and I askedher if she could take some time out of her schedule to see her. She told me she would have to do some research on Cinda’s socials first, and we ended the call. Not thirty minutes later, she was calling me back with a “I’m there.” Sometimes it pays to be a Park.
“By the way, please tell whoever painted that mural by the entrance is next for a showcase. Julian said he’s a big scary dude that looks at you like he wants to eat you.”
He’s definitely eaten me. Eaten my pussy and my ass.Nope. No time to think about sex right now.“Doubtful.”
The artist in question is a man with secrets. A man who finger fucked me right after I got a tattoo, ate me to high heaven, and took care of me when I had my terrible menstrual cramps. I like Jacinda, and we were growing our friendship, but it’s a little much to tell her about my sex life right now. I haven’t even told the girls yet. Too much has been going on with Dru having baby Bruce, Sophia having Valentina, Lara and Sloane doing what they are doing, and of course, Meela just getting engaged and moving in with Tatum. They are building their home about 20 minutes south of Jace’s lake house.
“Why don’t you two go get some champagne? There are a few bottles in the back in ice buckets that the bartender set up earlier. There should also be some glasses there. Xio won’t miss one bottle. We need to celebrate, and a little champagne might settle your nerves.” Xiomara Reyes, my bartender for the night, is also on loan from Sophia. She works at Piattino with Sophia and Jace as a bartender and sommelier. When I approached her yesterday, she came up with some amazing cocktails themed to complement Jacinda’s art, and I can’t wait to taste them all once the night is almost over. It would be nice to have a drink and ease some of my own tension about the show and the man I keep thinking about.
“But its 9 a.m Kami points out, and I’m not 21 yet.”
Jacinda smiles. “Live a little. A few sips will be okay. We aren’t going to tell anyone, right, Cam?” She winks at me, and I smile.
Kami grins conspiratorially. “Fine, but just a small sip. My mom would kill me if she found out.”
“Just like she’ll kill you if she finds out you read the smuttiest of smut at Lara’s book club,” Jacinda responds by pulling her away as they head to the back room, where I left the champagne chilling.
Moving back around to the space, I check if all the tags are correctly labeled for each piece. Jacinda’s bio poster is set up nicely, ready for people to read about her life and her style.
Mujeres de lágrimas y llamas by Jacinda Cortez-Brown
It’s perfect. The name aptly reflects the collection’s focus. Each piece speaks to her Chicano roots. Her early years with her mother and grandmother, in East LA. Her mother was shunned for being with a black man by some of her family, but the black community embraced her and her twins. When she was 10, her mother left LA and moved to her father’s side of the country, settling in Brooklyn. Her Chicana mother and her black father from Brooklyn. Her art reflects that dynamic mix of New York and LA culture. Bold colors and textures, exaggerated body features, some graffiti art mixed with her Mexican culture, and her American upbringing. She calls it Día de los Muertos, combined with a heavy dose of Frida Kahlo.
A crash I hear at the back interrupts my thoughts, making me spin around. I frown. Shit. It sounds like they dropped champagne. Xio is going to kill me.
“Jacinda? Kami? You guys okay? Are you two drinking without me? They don’t respond, and I walk to the back. The silence feels strange. There’s no laughter. No movement. Are they in the bathroom?
