While sitting on the phone for an auction of Hex’s paintings in Tokyo, I reviewed the house budget for the month. We hired new servants for the party tomorrow night and many more groundskeepers to save the rotting earth. I cringed at the total cost for just one month of all of our living.
I’ll have to convince Hex to sell this stupid castle. It’s costing us a fortune.
By the end of my meetings, I raced to my bedroom to shower and change with no time for a nice shot of brandy or a large cup of coffee. I ended up missing the limo ride with Elle, Hex, and Reece to the opening, but thankfully had my own driver get me there a good thirty minutes before the doors opened. It was important for me to see as much of everything as possible before people walked in. Only God knows what Hex could have snuck into the approval process without me noticing.
Once I arrived at X-Lab, the tension in my shoulders subsided an inch or so while I browsed the interior of the gallery for the first time.
Not bad. Not bad at all.
White paint covered the large walls, high ceilings, and floors. This was the perfect space for art. My footsteps echoed through the area. According to the schedule my assistant Reece sent to my phone, all of the participators, investors, and showcasing artists met on the third level in an intimate reception before the gallery doors opened. I rounded the corner toward the installations. They were all on the lower level.
The first art installation I approached consisted of thousands upon thousands of colorful rope woven into circular patterns and attached by thin wires that connected from the floor to the ceiling. The ropes formed into sort of little swings that seemed to be held up by only the air, but a closer look showed that thin wire was attached. There must’ve been thirty swings hovering over me. A stack of ladders rested on the floor, probably for the audience to set them up, climb to the swings, and enjoy.
I glanced at the information card on the side wall. Pictures of people swinging filled the card and nothing else. It didn’t seem shocking in any way.
“The swings are pretty neat. Aren’t they?” That smooth feminine voice sounded behind me. Elle’s voice.
I turned in her direction and was shocked at what I saw. She wore high heels and a tuxedo similar to mine. Her hair was slicked all the way back into one long braid hanging over her shoulder. Someone had drawn a tiny mustache above her lips. She held a top hat in her right hand and a cane in the other.
I cleared my throat. “You look enchanting.”
She winked at me. “Thanks, but I’m going more for androgynous.”
I allowed my gaze to comb over her body. Although the tuxedo had tried its best, there could be no denying that a curvaceous body lay underneath the material. The jacket and shirt molded against her breasts. The pants showed off the slender curvature of her legs.
“What do you think?” she asked. “Did I hit the androgynous look right on the mark?”
“No. You look like a beautiful woman with a tiny mustache on her face.”
She grinned. “That sucks. What do you think would’ve helped? Was it the heels? Maybe I could’ve worn some flat shoes.”
“No. You’re just as feminine as they come.”
“I’m not sure about that.” She headed over to the ladders. “You should see Hex. Next to him, I look like a man.”
Awesome. Hex is wearing a damn dress again. Hopefully, he’s figured out how to walk in heels. Last time, he was in bed for a week due to that sprained ankle.
“Have you tried the swings yet?” She pointed up to the closest ones.
“No.”
“Why not?” She took off her heels, kneeled down to the first ladder, and tried to pick it up.
“I’ll hold it for you.” I took the ladder from her and put it up myself. “Here, I’ll hold it while you climb up.”
She did. Her ponytail brushed against my arm, and as she rose I gained an excellent view of her behind. No, sweetheart. There’s nothing androgynous about you at all. You’re all woman right now. I removed my attention from her and back to the ladder. “Be careful.”
“And if I don’t?” She hopped on the swing.
“Then you’ll be in trouble with my brother,” Hex said from behind me. “Are you going to jump on a swing too, Al?”
“Of course not.” I remained near the ladder, just in case she lost her balance or something weird happened with the swing. It had been made by an artist, not an engineer. Who knew if it was truly sturdy enough? I glanced over my shoulder at my brother. Hex wore a mini zebra print dress. Ostrich feathers trimmed the hem and shoulders. Dear God. The heel on his shoes must’ve reached at least six inches. I’d seen exotic dancers with less heel than his. Pink lipstick painted his lips. Turquoise powder adored his eyelids. Meanwhile, he wore his black and white hair the way he usually did, hanging to his shoulders in mad scientist disarray.