TO GREAT TITS AND SUCKING DICK
The back room at The Oily Cat was filled with the warmth that a long-overdue celebration brings.
This dinner wasn’t just any meal, it was in honor of Elona’s success at the art fair.
The table was crowded with dishes: hearty beef stew rich with tender meat and root vegetables, buttery garlic mashed potatoes, a vibrant salad dressed in tangy vinaigrette, and flaky golden biscuits that melted on the tongue.
Soft shadows played along the aged wood on the walls, and the scent of slow-cooked meat, fresh herbs, and baked bread wrapped around us.
It was the perfect ending to a moment years in the making.
The art fair had been a resounding success, well beyond our wildest expectations, and while Elona’s art had been the centerpiece, it was the people gathered here who made the moment whole.
Her charcoal drawings, those intricate portraits of men and women, had captivated the townsfolk.
I’d watched as passersby stopped in front of her booth, surprised, even humbled, to find something so raw and powerful in the heart of their market.
The same people who once dismissed her, now gathered around, curious and intrigued, begging for commissions and offering prices they wouldn’t have imagined paying to someone like her.
Now, we were here, her family, gathering to celebrate her success.
Violet, Maeve, Nell, myself, and Emil, whose brooding silence filled a room louder than most voices.
I found myself watching Elona, the soft look in her eyes, the quiet awe on her face. She deserved every bit of this.
“So, Elona,” I began, “I believe it’s safe to say the people of Butte now know what true talent looks like.”
Violet, sitting beside me, grinned. “They didn’t have a clue before, but they sure do now. Next time, they’ll be lining up just to catch a glimpse of her magic.”
Elona flushed slightly, a soft smile tugging at her lips. She was never one to take praise easily, but tonight was different. I could feel her joy in knowing her work had touched people. “I don’t know about all that. It’s just . . . more than I expected. I never thought . . .”
“You never thought the town would recognize what it’s been too blind to see?” Maeve cut in. “Told you. They just needed someone to show them what real art looks like, not that painted shite hanging in their parlors.”
“And the best part,” Violet added with a smirk, “is they still don’t know who the artist is. Mystery in the air. I think they’ve all fallen in love with the ‘anonymous genius.’ Which is just perfect.”
Elona grinned, her hand resting on the rim of her glass. “I owe a big part of it to all of you.” She looked at me. “You believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself.”
Nell, who had been quiet throughout much of the meal, glanced up from her plate and smiled.
“We’ve always known your worth, Elona,” she said.
“It just took the town a little longer to catch up.” She raised her glass, voice rising as she added, “To you, Elona. To art, to beauty, and to knowing the world isn’t always as blind as it seems.”
Then Emil let out a low chuckle. His gravelly voice breaking the quiet with an easy charm.
“I’m proud of you all,” he said, eyes sweeping the table.
“You’ve built something here, and I think you’ve shaken this town up more than you know.
” He turned to Elona, giving her a rare wink.
“But I’ll admit, I didn’t think you’d be the one to win them over. ”
Elona raised a brow, smirking. “Who knew I could give life-altering head and draw a stunning pair of tits? This town just isn’t ready for talent like mine.” The table exploded with laughter.
“I’ll drink to that,” Maeve said, her usual bite softened by affection. “To family, to surviving in this bloody ridiculous town, and to always having each other’s backs.”
“To family,” I echoed. “And to doing things our way.” The clink of glasses was clean and satisfying, the sound creating a sacred seal in the air.
As the night wore on, conversation flowed effortlessly, laughter drifting from one end of the table to the other.
Maeve’s sharp sarcasm mingled with Elona and Violet’s playful sass, Emil’s dry wit, Nell’s quiet insight, and my own knowing smirks.
Together, we filled the room with a music entirely our own.
Violet leaned forward, a devilish grin on her lips. “You know, Elona, now that your art’s a hit, you might want to raise your prices. I’m thinking real big money now, maybe even a gallery in a big city.”
Elona laughed. “A gallery? Let me adjust to the idea that my work is worth anything before we go national.”
“Aye, it’s worth plenty,” Maeve said with a mock serious expression, “but with all the attention on you now, just remember who helped you get there.” She leaned back in her chair, her arms raised as if she were a model posing for one of Elona’s sketches.
“I mean, it’s not every day someone gets immortalized in charcoal, am I right? ”
I snorted, shaking my head. “All credit to Elona, but don’t be surprised when we start charging for inspiration.”
“Absolutely.” Violet added with a wink. “Payment in artwork . . . preferably nudes.”
Elona rolled her eyes, laughing. “I’m sure there’ll be plenty of demand for that.”
The banter carried on, but slowly the mood shifted. Wine dulled the edges of our energy, and a quieter tenderness settled over the table. Maeve, who had polished off an entire bottle of pinot grigio on her own and was most certainly feeling it, leaned back, her eyes slightly unfocused.
“Y’know,” she said softly, “I’ve no idea what we’d do without each other. We’ve come through more than most.”
I met her eyes and offered a quiet smile. “You don’t need to know. As long as we’ve got each other, we’ll be fine.” And I held onto the quiet that followed, because something in me knew moments like this never lasted.