Princess snorts and I look down at her. “Right?” We both laugh.
“Second”—Lucille is not done yet—“I have nine local tattoo artists exhibiting.”
“Oh, really? Nine of them?” I know which nine. I’ve lived in this town my whole life. I went to this school. I know all the other ink artists worth knowing in a two-hundred-mile radius. “If they are CSU alumni, they went there because of me.”
“Wrong,” Luce says. “They do not care about you, Vic. They all came because of a Vaughn sibling, that’s true. But that sibling was Veronica, not you.”
“Speaking of! How come Ronnie’s not in your stupid show, hmm?”
Luce laughs and points to a life-size cardboard cutout of Veronica. Naked. But painted to look like Elvis.
“You included Spencer?” He’s the one who did her body painting. “He isn’t even a tattoo artist!”
“No, but he custom-paints bikes.” Then she snickers. “And bodies. It’s practically the same thing.”
“It’s not even close.”
“My point is, Vic”—she is so done with me—“you’re not in the show. We have all the artists who are worthy.”
“You’re just bitter,” I say. “Bitter because I was never interested in you—”
She wails out a high-pitched scoff. “Never!” But she is aghast. “You cheated on me!” Then her eyes flit down to Princess, like maybe she knows she’s crossing a line, but then she rallies again. “That’s it. I’m calling security if you don’t get off campus right now. You’re dangerous. Are you carrying, Vic?” She actually eyeballs my pants to see if I’ve got a gun in my pocket.
I point at her. “You’re nuts. And that’s Spencer, by the way. The gun freak? That’s him. Make sure you pat him down at the door when he shows up to gloat about his nonexistent tattoo skills.”
“Oh, really? That’s him? Hmm. He’s not the one who has a little side business going on up in the Poudre Valley now, is he?”
I squint at her. How the fuck does she know about that?
“Oh, yes,” she hisses. “I know all about your new little business, Vicious Vaughn. Don’t you remember who I am?”
Oh, I remember. That’s why this whole ‘professor’ thing is such a joke. She comes from a biker family too. And not the downtown kind, either.
She’s still talking when I start to pay attention again. “—and I would highly suggest that you get the hell out of my building and be on your way. Because if you don’t, I will let everyone know how you’ve been making extra money to fix up that decrepit house of yours. That place should be condemned. Did you know that the mayor is my husband now?” She actually flashes the diamond at me. Like I give a fuck. “I wonder if that mansion of yours is up to code? Have you been getting your permits and inspections, Vic?” She bats her eyelashes at me.
“You bitch. You wouldn’t.”
“Oh, I would.”
“Come on, Princess.” I extend my hand out to my niece. She hurriedly shoves her notebook into her backpack and takes my hand. “Let’s go. We’re gonna put on our own tattoo art exhibit. And it’s gonna be a helluva lot better than this shitty shindig.”
We turn and walk back towards the door.
“Nice language, Vic!” Luce calls after me. “I hope you never become a father. You’d be the worst.”
I raise my middle finger up over my head as we exit.
“She’s not very nice, is she?”
I look down at the princess. I want to agree with her. I want to tell her all the little things I know about Lucille Lancaster from back in the day. All her inappropriate behavior back in college. But it’s probably a bad idea to vent to a little kid. So I just shut up and start heading back towards home.
I’m really tired now. The whole all-nighter thing is starting to catch up to me.
“Can we really put on our own art exhibit?”
I look down at my niece. “Fuck yeah, we can. And we’ll get way more people. To hell with Spencer. Don’t tell your mom I said that. In fact, don’t even mention this to her.”
“But will the artists want to come to our show if they’re doing this one?”
“Hmm. That’s a good question. We’ll need different talent, for sure.” I point at her. “I have connections in Key West.”
“Where’s that?”
“You know. Belinda’s home town. That place where she and Vann are always visiting. She knows everyone down there. I bet they have some cool talent down there.”
“What about me?”
“What about you?”
“Can I be in the show?”
We stop walking at the corner of Pitkin and Meridian. “You wanna be in the show?”
“Fuck yeah, I do.”
I laugh. I can’t help it. “Don’t you fucking dare say that shit in front of your mom. She will murder me.”
“If you let me be in the show, I won’t.”
“Sneaky little shit, aren’t you?”