At last, however, enough time had passed in the Realm of the Fae that she knew it was time to go back to the human realm. Hopefully Nana hadn’t gotten into any trouble and Rory was holding down the fort but since she’d basically only been gone overnight and a few hours into the morning of the day after she’d left, Cass was pretty sure things would be okay.
“The Summer’s End Ball is almost here,” Jake told her as she packed her things reluctantly and got ready to go back home. “Will you have time to get all your business attended to and be ready when I come for you?”
“Absolutely.” Cass nodded firmly. “I’ll need to take the portraits I painted of you to the I.C.U. gallery and go see Brandon face-to-face to end things with him but after that, I’ll be all ready to go.”
“And you’ll consider what your next step will be then?” Jake asked.
Cass understood what he was asking.
“Yes, I promise I will,” she said seriously. “You’ve…given me a lot to think about, Jake. This time here with you has been…well, magical. There’s no other way to describe it.”
“I’m so glad you enjoyed our time together. I just wish it hadn’t come so quickly to an end.” He sighed and then turned serious. “Are you certain you don’t wish me to be with you when you break off your old relationship?” he asked, looking at her with a mixture of worry and possessiveness. “He won’t try to hurt you, will he? I’ll send his joints bending in the wrong direction if he so much as lays a finger on you.”
“I know you will.” Cass shivered when she remembered the howling biker Jake had worked that particular spell on. “But don’t worry—he probably won’t even notice I’m gone. I’m barely in his life anyway—he won’t care that I’m taking myself completely out of it.”
“I hope you’re right.” Jake was still frowning—looking like a thundercloud about to storm. “Just remember you can call me if you need me. I will be listening for you every moment you’re away, darling.”
“Thank you.” Cass finished zipping her duffle bag and stood on tiptoes to give him a kiss. “I really have enjoyed my time here with you,” she said shyly. “I…can’t honestly remember feeling so happy and taken care of since I was a little girl—before my mother died.” Then she bit her lip. “Wow, that came out kind of weird. What I meant to say was—”
“I understand your meaning perfectly,” Jake murmured, leaning down to kiss her back. “And I assure you, I take it as a compliment. You are what we call in the elvish community, a neamhnaid priseil—a precious pearl. Because of your great talent and your beauty and intelligence, I must cherish and protect you.” He smiled. “I’m very pleased you felt so cared for in my home. It was my whole intention.”
“Well, it worked.” Cass smiled up at him. Every day she fell for the big elf a little more. It seemed impossible now that she had disliked him so much when they’d first met.
He sighed deeply.
“And now I must take you back to your own home, though I wish it wasn’t necessary. I have an early court date this morning I must not miss in Judge StoneThroat’s courtroom.”
“You have to go back there?” Cass shivered. “Ugh—I wish you wouldn’t! I worry about you, Jake—what if he tries to flog you again? Or does something worse?”
“He cannot touch me if I don’t give him reason to,” Jake said firmly. “Besides, my debt to him is paid in full—paid in blood, as you well remember. He won’t bother me again unless I antagonize him.”
“Got it. Well, just be careful.” Cass promised herself that she wouldn’t call him away no matter how Brandon reacted to her breaking up with him. Not that she expected much drama but even if her soon-to-be ex pitched a full-fledged hissy-fit, she was not going to get the big elf in trouble again.
“I will be careful if you promise to do the same,” Jake told her. “Call for me if you need me. If not, I’ll come for you before the ball. Now—are you ready to go?”
“Yes, ready.” Cass took a firm grip on her duffle bag and canvases and leaned back against Jake, letting him loop one long, muscular arm around her waist.
There was the familiar puff of navy blue smoke and the warm, masculine scent she now knew was the smell of his magic and then she was standing in the middle of the living room in the big house on States Street and Rory was shouting at her.
“Oh, Cass—thank goodness you’re back! It’s such an awful mess!”
“Mess? What mess?” Jake looked stern. “Have you had more problems with your new fairy godmother?”
“No, no—nothing like that.” Rory shook her head, her long red hair flying. “I haven’t seen hide nor hair of the new FG since she disappeared last time.”
“Is it the clones?” Cass asked anxiously. “Did someone wake them up? Are they causing a problem?” She could just imagine the havoc ten, not-too-bright, naked Brandon clones could cause.
But again, Rory shook her head.
“No, it’s nothing magical at all, I’m afraid.” She looked desperately unhappy. “I’m so sorry, Cass, but Albert from the I.C.U. called on your cell phone a couple of hours ago—he says he’s cancelling your show and there’s nothing you can do to change his mind.”
“Oh yeah?” Cass frowned. “We’ll just see about that.”
“Do you need my help?” Jake asked. “Should I come with you to teach this Albert a lesson?”
“Easy, honey—you’re sounding less like my court-appointed elf and more like a mob hitman.” Cass put a hand on his arm. “Don’t worry about me—I can handle myself just fine.”
“Well, if you’re sure…” Jake was still frowning possessively.
“I’m sure,” Cass told him firmly. “Now please go—I don’t want you to be late to court.”
“I’ll be listening for you,” Jake promised. Bending down, he gave her a swift but sensuous kiss on the lips. Then he nodded at Rory, who was staring at him in surprise, and disappeared in his usual puff of navy smoke.
“Whoa, Cass,” her sister finally managed to get out at last after the smoke had dissipated. “What was that all about? I take it you and our court-appointed elf are now an item.”
“Not exactly.” Cass frowned. “I have to break things off with Brandon and take a breather before we can really consider our next step.”
“Consider your next step?” Rory frowned at her. “Now you sound just like Phil. Whatever happened to living life as a free-spirited artist, Cass? Your next step ought to be right into Counselor O’Shea’s arms if you ask me.”
“Well, nobody did ask you,” Cass snapped. Then she sighed. “Look, I’m sorry—I don’t mean to be bitchy. I like Jake a lot—I mean, to be honest I’m pretty much nearly head-over-heals for him. But he’s really intense, you know? It’s just…a little scary to go from being in a loose kind of relationship like I have with Brandon to something so…so…”
“Grown up?” Rory offered quietly. “He wants a commitment and that’s scary, right?”
“Well don’t you think commitment is scary?” Cass demanded, feeling exasperated. Her little sister wasn’t even nineteen and had never had a serious boyfriend before. There was no way she could lecture Cass on commitment.
But Rory got a strange look in her emerald green eyes.
“I think when you find the right person and you know he’s right, committing to him isn’t scary at all,” she said quietly.
“Wait a minute…” Cass narrowed her eyes as she studied her little sister. “Are you talking about that Phooka horse guy again? That Damien guy?”
“Daegan—his name is Daegan,” Rory said defensively. “And no, of course I wasn’t talking about him. I just meant, you know—when you find the right guy you want to be with him forever.”
Cass sighed and shook her head.
“Maybe so but right now I need to get rid of the wrong guy and then get my head together before I can decide if Jake is Mr. Right or not. Speaking of which, can I have my cell phone?”
Rory handed it over and she dialed Brandon’s n
umber…which rang and rang and rang.
At last she had to admit to herself that Brandon wasn’t answering his phone. He was probably passed out from a night of hard partying, Cass assumed. Sighing, she left him a message on his phone asking him to come see her as soon as possible because it was urgent. Then she turned her attention to her other problem.
“Are you going to call that Albert guy too and see if you can change his mind?” Rory asked.
But Cass shook her head. “No, I’m going to go see him in person. If these don’t change his mind about cancelling my show, nothing will.”
She displayed the two canvases which Jake had obligingly conjured into frames for her and Rory’s eyes went wide.
“Wow!” she breathed, staring in amazement. “Is that for real? I mean, is our court-appointed elf really hiding all that under those sexy tailored suits of his?”
“He certainly is.” Cass smiled proudly. “I didn’t have to embellish a bit. This is all true-to-life.”
“Wow,” Rory said again. “He’s just so big.”
“Yes, he is.” Cass suddenly felt bad about displaying Jake’s junk to her impressionable younger sister and turned the canvass the other way. “Anyway, Albert is sure to love these. So I’m going to take them down and show him in person.”
“Good idea.” Rory nodded her head. “I’ll come with you for moral support.”
“You will? Thanks, Rory.” Cass smiled gratefully at her little sister. Rory might be a little flighty at times but she was loyal to the bone—one of the few truly good-hearted people Cass knew.
“Okay, let’s go,” she said grimly. “We have a show to save.”
Thirty-Four
“Well that was a total waste of time.” Cass flopped onto the couch, feeling completely deflated.
The show at the I.C.U. gallery was off—completely and totally off with no hope at all of being resurrected. She sighed unhappily as she remembered how her meeting with Albert had gone…
“I’m sorry, Cassie, my sweet,” Albert had said in that prissy, nasal voice of his. “But Albert has given you plenty of time to give him the centerpiece of your show and you never did.”
“But it’s here now—look!” Cass produced the framed canvas of Jake in repose on the couch. “Or this one—see?” She showed the I.C.U. gallery owner the second painting, this one done from behind where Jake’s broad back and tight ass were prominently displayed.
“Well, well!” Albert’s eyes widened slightly. “I must say, Albert would very much like to meet your model.”
“That could be arranged,” Cass said quickly. She was certain Jake wouldn’t mind coming to her art show. But Albert frowned and shook his head.
“I’m sorry, Cassie my love but tomorrow is Friday—I don’t have enough time to arrange your art.”
“Arrange the art? It’s two pictures!” Cass had protested. “Look, I’ll show you where we can put them.”
And before Albert could stop her, she’d gone rushing out of his office and into the display area of the gallery next door…
Only to stop short at what she saw.
“Hey…” Her voice sounded bewildered, even in her own ears. “What’s this? Where’s all my art? Whose stuff is this?”
Hanging on the gallery walls and scattered around on easels was a series of black and white photographs—none of them hers.
“I’m afraid you gave me no choice, Cassie, my dear.” Albert came bustling in behind her. “Your art wasn’t ready so I had to give your show to another artist.”
“What? But whose stuff is this?” Cassie peered at the nameplate beneath one of the photographs. “Alonzo Rodriguez?” she asked, frowning at Albert. “Same last name as you—is he a relative or something?”
Albert began to look uncomfortable.
“He’s my brother’s boy, as a matter of fact. He’s been pestering me for a show for some time but I always said no…until now.”
“I can see why,” Cass snapped. “Look at this stuff! A little girl licking an ice cream cone? A couple walking on the beach holding hands?” She rounded on Albert. “All you need is a picture of a kitten hanging on a clothesline with the words ‘Hang in There!’ and you’ve got a perfect display of Hallmark cards. Do you really think Lady Blankenship and her crowd are going to go for this?”
The rotund little gallery owner frowned defiantly.
“Lady Blankenship and her friends will buy whatever I tell them to! It doesn’t matter who the artist is.”
“Wait a minute…” Cass began to get a sneaking suspicion. “You haven’t told them, have you? That you’re replacing my show with your nephew’s work?”
Albert’s round face turned beet red.
“It’s too late to get a new program printed now.”
“There’s such a thing as e-mail, you know,” Cass pointed out. “Unless you don’t want to tell them you changed the show.”
“Yeah, maybe you’re afraid they won’t come if they find out you’re showing this crap instead of my sister’s work.” Rory came striding in from the office, where she had remained while Cass argued with the little gallery owner.
“I beg your pardon?” Albert drew himself up to his full height of five feet, three inches and attempted to stare down his nose at Rory. But Rory refused to be intimidated—especially since she was several inches taller than the diminutive gallery owner.
“You heard me,” she said, frowning at him. “My sister is just starting to get some name recognition for her art in the Tampa Bay area so now you’re trying to use her reputation to pull in a crowd for your nephew’s show. That’s pure nepotism.”
“How dare you speak to Albert in that fashion!” Albert’s face got even redder, if possible. He pointed at Cass. “Your art is boxed up in the back of my gallery. I suggest you take it and go at once.”
Too angry to speak, Cass stalked to the back of the gallery with Rory and Albert following in her wake. But when she got to the stack of boxes, she stopped abruptly.
“These are the same boxes my art came in—none of them have even been opened.” She rounded on Albert. “You never intended to give me a show at all, did you? It’s like Rory said—you just wanted to use my name to get Lady Blankenship in to look at your nephew’s crappy photography.”
“Out!” Albert had pointed to the door marked exit, his voice rising to a perfect teakettle shriek. “Out, out, out! And don’t ever darken my doorway again!” he added, with a dramatic flourish.
It had taken Cass and Rory some time but at last they had found a way to pack all her art work into Cass’s crappy car and had driven back across the bay to Tampa.
And now, here they were, collapsed on Nana’s brown leather couch with the art piled in boxes all around them and failure hanging thick in the air like a blanket of suffocating dust.
“I can’t believe that little asshole is going to use my name to get Lady Blankenship to look at his nephew’s Hallmark art!” Cass was so frustrated she could scream. She had been fuming all the way home but there didn’t seem to be anything she could do about what was happening. “And I don’t get a showing at all.”
“Why shouldn’t you still have a showing?” Rory, who had been mostly quiet on the way home, finally spoke up.
“Why? Because the I.C.U. is full of Albert’s nephew’s trite crap—that’s why,” Cass snarled. “Did you miss that particular detail?”
“So? Is the I.C.U. the only place in the Bay area where you can host an art show?” Rory demanded.
“It’s the only place that’s going to have Lady Blankenship and her art-buying cronies,” Cass pointed out.
“Not if we call them and tell them what’s going on and that the show has been moved,” Rory pointed out.
“And just how are we going to manage that?” Cass demanded. “It’s not like we have a guest list for the show or anything.”
“Oh, no? Then what’s this?” Rory pulled a folded square of paper out of her jeans pocket and handed it over to Cass.
&n
bsp; Cass unfolded it and stared, her eyes going wide. Slowly, she looked up at her sister.
“You…they…how?” she finally managed to get out.
“I had a little snoop through Albert’s computer while you two were arguing out in the gallery.” Rory looked smug. “He doesn’t have it password locked or anything. And do you know he just had the whole list under the heading ‘Guest List’ and tomorrow’s date? It was the easiest thing in the world to print it out.”
“Oh my God!” Cass stared at the paper. “This is like…the holy grail! Lady Blankenship and every one of her friend’s names, addresses, phone numbers, and emails. Amazing!” She sighed, suddenly deflating. “But it doesn’t do any good. I mean, we can email them and warn them what Albert is planning to do but we still don’t have a gallery to show my art in. And there’s no chance of getting one the day before a showing.”
“Getting one what?” Nana had just come into the room, tottering on ridiculously high heels. “What’s going on, girls? Why so glum?” she asked, patting her swirl of lavender-tinted silver hair.
“Oh, Cass’s art show for tomorrow is off because the gallery owner who was going to put it on is a lying sack of sh—, uh, fertilizer,” Rory said, keeping herself from swearing at the last moment. Their grandmother did not like unladylike language.
“We have the guest list of everyone who was supposed to attend but we don’t have a venue to hold it in,” Cass put in. “So the show is off and I’m back to looking for part time work until I can get another break. And if Albert starts talking trash around me, that will be precisely never.”
“Well, why don’t you hold your show here, Cassandra?” Nana asked brightly.
“Here?” Cass said flatly. “As in right here where we’re sitting?”
“Of course!” Nana looked excited. “Just think of it—why this house is a turn of the century Antebellum—one of the only ones in Tampa. It’s even been placed on the Registry of Historical Bay Area Homes.”
Be Careful What You Wish For (The Swann Sisters Chronicles Book 2) Page 32