Before I could come up with a plan, her eyes caught on something and her head came up.
“Don’t I know him?” she asked and my head turned in the direction where she was looking. I saw Hector, his handsome face carefully blank but his eyes were on me and I could see, even across the room, they were alert.
I turned back to Monica and opened my mouth to speak when her eyes went squinty like she was looking into the sun.
“I think he works for my yard company. He’s one of those, you know… immigrant workers or whatever. What’s he doing here?”
My head jerked back like she slapped me right before my hands formed into fists.
Now, someone please tell me she did not just insinuate that Hector “Oh my God” Chavez was an immigrant yard worker crashing an art opening.
She kept going, oblivious to my tense posture and what had to be a deadly vibe emanating from every pore in my body.
Her eyes still on Hector she said, “God, Sadie, he’s staring at you. I don’t know, he’s definitely good-looking, if you like that kind of thing but… oh dear, he’s heading our way!”
She jerked my arm as if to pull me away but I stood rooted to the spot.
I yanked away from her and stayed where I was but my head turned to watch Hector walk the last six feet to my side.
The minute he did, I moved in.
I put one of my hands on his abs and leaned up on tiptoe to kiss his downturned lips.
“Hi, babe,” I said softly and saw something warm flash in his eyes but I ignored it.
Somewhere along the line, something had exploded in my brain and I was powerless to control my own actions. That was to say, I was beyond worrying about causing a scene. Or, I should say, I was about to cause the scene that would end all scenes.
I leaned my body into him until his arm slid along my waist and I turned to Monica.
“Hector, this is Monica Henrique. Monica, this is Hector Chavez. Hector used to be an agent for the DEA which is why you probably recognize him because he was undercover in my father’s operation for over a year before he brought him down. So, obviously, he used to be around a lot. Now, we’re sleeping together and, let me tell you, he’s amazing.”
I felt Hector’s body grow tight and I saw Monica’s face pale but I kept on talking.
“Hector,” I flicked my hand out to Monica, “Monica never worked a day in her life, she hasn’t slept with her husband in five years but she has slept with the guys who work for her gardener, loads of them. She also gets Botox injections, so much, I think it’s affected her brain because she thought you worked for her yard company. I’m guessing, wishful thinking?” I asked Monica sweetly.
Now Monica’s mouth had dropped open.
“Sadie –” I heard Hector say in a low voice from beside me but I ignored that too and kept my eyes on Monica even as I saw people approaching from all sides.
“And, just to set the record straight, I don’t sell paintings because I have to, I’m rich, my mother was rich, my mother’s mother was rich, my mother’s mother’s mother was rich. My family struck it big in the gold boom and we’ve been fat cats in Denver for years before you crawled out from the underbelly of whatever scaly, reptilian, dragon queen that spawned you. I don’t have to work. I sell paintings because I’m good at it.”
Vaguely, I heard a gasp that might have been Daisy but I didn’t have time to look, I was on a roll and kept going.
“And I got this cut on my cheek when I was beaten and raped a month ago, you know that, everyone knows it and you’re just being a screaming bitch by bringing it up.”
Hector’s hand got tight at my waist and he repeated, “Sadie –”
I continued to ignore him and ranted on, even as more people approached our group.
“And I’ll finish with this little nugget and, Monica, I want you to listen well. Don’t you dare waltz uninvited into my gallery and disrespect me, my friends and my boyfriend. You do it again, I’ll drag you out of here by your hair. Got me?” I snapped.
Monica sputtered once then twice then breathed, “I don’t believe –”
I leaned in and interrupted her, “It was a yes or no question.”
Her eyes narrowed, she sucked in breath and (believe it or not!), she hissed, “You’ll never sell another painting in Denver again!”
Now, how unoriginal was that?
It was the worst comeback ever!
“Oh well, I guess I’ll just sit on top of my big pile of money and eat bon bons,” I returned casually then, quick as lightning, I morphed to not-casual-at-all, leaned back toward her and clipped, “Now get out of my gallery.”
She pressed her lips together, gave me a squinty-eyed look, transferred the look to Hector then back to me and then she turned and marched out.
It was at that juncture I realized I was breathing heavily.
Hector’s dark gray shirt came into my vision and I looked up into his black eyes.
“What the fuck was that about?” he asked.
“She’s a bitch,” I answered.