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“School,” Toni answers. “Topper has Art History across the hall from my World History class. We had lunch on campus and talked about the importance of art in documenting historical time periods.”
“Art History, huh?” That tracks, given Topper’s shaggy hair, smudged eyeliner-rimmed eyes, and chunky rings and bracelets. He seems like an artist. “Do you paint?”
“Sculpture,” he says quietly. “Clay, mostly.”
Toni snuggles into Topper’s side. “He’s really good with his hands.”
Dad chokes on the sip of wine he just swallowed. “Excuse me?”
Toni rolls her eyes, even though I know she did it on purpose to give Dad a jolt. “Dad, don’t be gross. I meant that Topper’s talented. He even did a sculpture inspired by me that was included in a gallery show. Didn’t you, babe?”
Topper is staring at Dad as though afraid he might attack over Toni’s slipped phrasing. But he does respond politely. “The Moderne Gallery. The piece is called Journey to the Core.”
Dad smiles tightly, and I give Toni a look of ‘seriously?’ This poor kid is not doing himself any favors because it absolutely sounds like he made an art sculpture of Toni’s vagina and put it on display downtown. Silently, I pray that it was at least sculpted by memory and not an actual mold.
“It sold for one thousand dollars,” Toni adds proudly.
Completely oblivious to what Dad and I are thinking, Topper gushes . . . or what I judge to be his level of exuberant gushing, which borders somewhere around that of a faucet on slightly more than dripping. “I custom mixed the clay and water composition to get the right consistency and then used all-natural pigments to hand-paint the dye onto the completed piece. It was important to get accurate color representation and placement of the various shades of red.”
“I think I’d like to see this piece,” Dad bites out. I don’t think he actually does, but he does need to make sure that his daughter isn’t posing for anything risqué or full-blown explicit.
Before I can say a word, Jayme takes Toni’s available arm, clearly ready to save the situation. “Let’s leave these two to prepare their speeches. Come on.”
Jayme begins walking away with Toni in tow and Topper holding on to Toni’s other side for dear life. I can hear Jayme smoothly making small talk with the two of them. Alone again, Dad looks at me. “She’s something else. Jayme, I mean. Though Toni, too.” He closes his eyes, muttering almost silently. “She might kill me, but I love that little girl.”
I don’t have the heart to remind Dad that his ‘little girl’ is nearly a grown woman now. It definitely doesn’t seem like the time either.
“Jayme might even be able to save you from yourself, Archer from us both, or me from . . . anything.” His grin is kind, showing the compliment to be sincere, and I laugh lightly. What else am I going to do when Archer shows up uninvited to cause drama, Toni’s new boyfriend might be selling replicas of her womanhood, and Jayme somehow smoothly mitigates it all?
“Hopefully, she won’t have to,” I answer, searching the garden for where Jayme’s disappeared to with Toni and Topper. When I find her, she’s working the ‘room’ easily and comfortably, which is definitely more than I can say for the shy, awkward Topper who’s now standing on the dance floor unmoving as Toni dances around him. He looks quite a bit like a sculpture himself, but at least he’s smiling happily as he lets Toni do her thing. “If you’ll excuse me.”
Dad makes a sound of agreeability, but I’m already moving toward my target.
Now that there’s no impending crisis, I take the time to get my fill of looking at Jayme. She’s absolutely breathtaking, her smile sexy and her poise intriguing. Her dress has a tiny ruffle along the bodice that I want to trace with my tongue, but first, I want to tell her how amazed I am with her intelligence and ability to dance her way in and out of uncomfortable situations.
She’s everything I’ve ever wanted, and I realize that Dad was right about something else. When you know, you know. Lightning hits me right in the chest, taking my breath away as it all comes into clear focus.
I’m in love with her.
Jayme worried that her seeing me at my absolute worst would make me want to distance myself from her after the incident resolved. Instead, I find that her acceptance of every part of me, even the ugly things I try to hide, makes me feel that much closer to her. She’s in my heart, my soul.
And though this is not the time, nor the place, I need to tell her now. Right now.
“Can I have a word with you?” I rumble in her ear, taking Jayme’s elbow and steering her somewhere slightly less in the middle of everything.
