Chapter 12 #2
I stand up immediately and shake his hand, introduce myself, and say the smarmy thing that I coached myself to say.
“So glad to hear it. I’m Rowdy, local patron of the arts, and this is Riley Hutchinson, one of the artists that your foundation so graciously supports.
We are so grateful for your attendance tonight. ”
“I was waylaid by a last-minute board meeting. I apologize,” Rogers says.
“No apology necessary,” I say.
A slight smirk pulls at the corner of the man’s lips as he clocks my accent. To outsiders like Foster, we all sound the same. But some people can pick up on some of us with our deep country backgrounds.
I’m not flustered about it. Not much.
But I do flub my manners in the moment, slightly shaken by Wilson’s ice-cold eyes, and accidentally allow Riley to pull her own chair out to greet Wilson.
She holds out her hand. “So nice to finally meet you in person. I—”
“Follow me.”
She and I make quick eye contact, silently communicating wonder at where Wilson could possibly want Riley to follow him to. Wherever it is, I’m not letting her out of my sight, and I follow close on her heels.
Wilson treks across the ballroom with the two of us in tow as everyone seated tucks into the salad course and chatters amongst themselves.
Wilson comes to a stop at the art display near the auction podium.
“This your doing?”
It’s the kind of tone that lets me know nothing good is gonna come of this conversation.
Riley visibly flinches. “Yes. Yes, that’s my painting.”
“What happened to the…the little birdies and shit?”
“I…I…” Her face looks like she’s seen a ghost.
I do my best to be charming and de-escalate whatever is bubbling up in this overgrown brat’s head.
“Now, I’m a major collector of Riley’s bird paintings, sunrises, sunsets, and mountain landscapes.
All of it. But these artists, you know, they have to keep evolving, and I think what you’re seeing here is an expression of…
of…” Ah shit. I don’t really know dick about art.
All I know is what I like and what I love.
Both of those things boil down to Riley. I love whatever she does.
Wilson takes my faltering to verbally assault my girl. “What we have here is pornography. Straight up.”
“What? No, I don’t know what you mean,” she insists. “This is personal, and it’s not indecent at all.” Bless Riley, regaining her voice and straightening her spine.
He points to the red shades at the center of the painting. “That is clearly a vagina. Everybody can see that.”
She tilts her head. “I suppose if you want to look at it that way. It’s open to interpretation.”
“What I interpret is that my family’s money is going to support something obscene.
What I interpret is that all of you are suckering my daddy into supporting something of no value to the community.
What I interpret is if these harlots want to create smut, they should get real jobs and stop begging for money. ”
The man dares to point a finger at Riley’s ashen face, and I lose all ability to be calm or polite or charming.
“I didn’t mean it that way,” Riley says, trailing off. Her voice is thick, and her eyes are downcast.
That’s it.
“I hear what you’re saying, but the problem is, you’re full of horse shit.”
Riley’s eyes bug out at me in horror. She squeezes my arm, but I’m over it.
I keep a smile on my face and my voice even.
“You do your off-market deals to buy up land around here to build your multi-million-dollar cabins. You cut down trees and displace wildlife. You want to see these people paint more birds and shit? Then maybe you should stop making it so hard for them to survive in the wild.”
The man is unfazed, but I don’t care. He smiles an evil smile as I keep going.
I do my best not to raise my voice. Anybody watching us but unable to hear us would think this was a friendly conversation.
“I know you used the county commissioners who are in your pocket to declare eminent domain on almost a third of the land on Hawk Mountain. You all forced my granddad off his property. If he knew your family was singlehandedly supporting this town, he’d be rolling in his grave.
Shit, Songbird Ridge and its traditions weren’t meant to survive on your kind of money.
It’s too high a price to pay. Too many strings attached. ”
“Fine,” Wilson says. “I’ve been looking for a reason to put my money to better use.”
“You mean your granddad and your daddy’s money. Not like you ever turned a shovel of soil your own damn self.”
“Rowdy, that’s enough,” Riley says.
“No, it’s really not.” Yeah, I’ve gone too far, but I don’t care.
“You should listen to your girlfriend,” Wilson says smugly, folding his arms over his barrel chest.
I feel as if I’m channeling the spirit of my backwoods granddad, and there’s nothing to stop what might come out of my mouth next.
“You should keep your trash opinions to yourself. Riley Hutchinson is the best damn artist you’ll ever meet, and you should be paying admission to even stand in the same room as her painting.
So why don’t you shove it where the sun don’t shine. ”
“Boy, you got a lot of nerve. Someone never turned you over their knee, I can see that for sure.”
It’s on, as far as I’m concerned. I just need someone to hold my jacket so it doesn’t rip when I lay this motherfucker on the floor. I step up to him. “You wanna try it, boy? Let’s go outside right the fuck now.” I’m fully aware that the front half of the room is staring now.
“Rowdy!” Riley whispers, digging her fingers into my arm.
Wilson stands back and folds his arms over his chest. “I don’t think that will be necessary. You already got enough problems,” he laughs.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Wilson grins. “That police officer sure does look like he wants a word.”
Riley’s gaze is over her shoulder, and she looks even more horrified.
I turn to see what she sees, and there is Hodges, in uniform, stalking toward me with a piece of paper.
“I’ve been waiting for the right moment to serve you, Rowdy. I’ll see you in court bright and early Monday.”
“Hodges, don’t be an asshole. It’s a special event, and it’s not about me. It’s Riley’s night. It’s the town’s night.”
Wilson rubs his hands together and makes the most of this opportunity, the piece of shit. “Officer, you might be interested in knowing this young man physically threatened me.”
Hodges looks from Wilson to me, and a slow smile creeps across his face.
“Threatening bodily harm? Not nice, Rowdy. You know, the chief has been telling me not to bring you in whenever I complain about seeing you driving. He says just to serve you the papers and let you pay your fines. But threatening bodily harm is a different thing, my friend. You wanna walk out with me of your own free will, or do you want some pretty bracelets?”
I take one last look at Riley, but she can’t even look at me. She’s hustling toward the restroom with Ari and a couple of other women not far behind.
What in the world have I done?