The Ties That Bind (5 page)

"
¡Esa!
" said a familiar voice.

"Hey! You made it with time to spare." I grinned at Chris, who pulled me into a quick hug.

"I love these things. And I love you two, so missing it wasn't an option." She patted my abdomen.

"You still clean up good," I noted as I pretended to assess her outfit. Black trousers, light blue denim shirt, and classy black shoes. Tall, dark, and handsome. Chris's dark mop of hair fell past her ears and a lock or two always hung over her forehead, giving her sort of a playful, boyish air. "Damn, you could be a model for
GQ
," I teased.

Chris rolled her eyes. "Please. I had to find something to wear to compete with you."

I glanced down at my faded jeans and cowboy boots. "Oh, for sure. Kenneth Cole versus cowpie. I see why my fashion sense would concern you."

"Nobody looks as good as you in boots and jeans, girl. Not even me. And that's saying a lot, hot as I am." She laughed.

"It's the shirt," Sage announced. She gave Chris a hug before turning back to me. "Or maybe it's just you." She quirked an eyebrow at me and I felt a little blush work its way up my neck.

"Thanks for coming," Sage said to Chris. "Have you had anything to eat?"

"Wouldn't miss it. And no, I haven't."

"Food's along the back wall," I said, gesturing.

A woman with lots of blond hair and a tight black dress put her hand on Sage's forearm. "Honey, could you come here? I want you to meet somebody," she said in a loud Texas accent.

"Absolutely," Sage responded politely. She blew an air-kiss at me as she moved off into the crowd.

Chris grinned and looked around the gallery. "Damn, lots of people here. That's some good news for Sage."

"Very good news. Where's Dayna?" I looked past Chris toward the front entrance.

"Schmoozing." Humor danced in Chris's dark eyes. "Oh, I mean
networking
. You know how lawyers are." Chris beckoned with her chin and I followed the gesture. Dayna was talking to a couple of women who appeared to be in their fifties.

I smiled again. Dayna was good at that sort of thing. She was wearing one of her artsy-professional outfits--she pulled that shit off really well. Cowboy boots beneath a flowing black skirt and a casual rose-colored shirt. She had her long light brown curly hair pulled back from her face and a pair of blue Euro-frame glasses on. I knew their color matched her eyes. I glanced at Chris, who was watching Dayna with an expression I thought I'd never see in her eyes. I smiled again, grateful to whatever forces brought Dayna into Chris's life.

Hey," Chris said absently, still looking at Dayna. "I gave the wine to some woman with blond spiky hair--Maureen." She turned her gaze back to me.

"We'd better go get some, then," I said, turning toward the back wall. "That stuff's good and it'll go fast."

"Not to worry. There are two more bottles in the car for you and yours. I wouldn't think of depriving you." She grinned.

"You are the best. You want anything?"

"If they've got a Diet Coke over there, that'd be great."

"Sure. What about Dayna?"

"She's got a glass of something. Hey, I'm going to check out Sage's stuff. I don't get to see much of it on display like this." Chris flashed me a smile.

"By all means. Catch you in a minute." Secretly, Chris was an art fiend. And a talented artist in her own right, though she never talked about it. She preferred to work in pen-and-ink, but she enjoyed looking at all media. I'd nag her now and again to let Sage hook her up with some of her art friends to get Chris a gallery showing in Albuquerque, but she always refused, telling me the same thing every time: "It's just a hobby,
esa
. I prefer to keep it that way."

I made my way through the knots of people toward the back wall. Dan stood behind one of the tables pouring glasses of wine. The plate of brie looked like a pack of wild dogs had fought over it. I cut a small piece from what was left and ate it before I picked up a strawberry and bit into that.
Yummy.
Three other people grazed across the veggies, talking about somebody who just had a baby. A big plastic tub stood in a corner near Dan's tables, filled with ice and soft drinks and bottled water. I pulled a can of Diet Coke out for Chris and glanced at Dan.

"You have any of that St. Clair cabernet that came in a little later?" I asked, hopeful, scanning the bottles on the table.

He smiled beneath his big, bushy mustache and reached down underneath the tablecloth for a bottle from which he poured me almost a full glass. "Bottoms up," he said as he handed it to me. "Good stuff."

I took the glass in my free hand and raised it appreciatively before taking a sip
.
I wandered back to the food and set my glass down so I could nibble on another strawberry.

"Nice turn-out," Shoshana said.

I hadn't heard her approach. I chewed and swallowed so I could address her. "Yeah, it is. Thanks for all your help." I set the top of the strawberry on a plate that seemed to be serving that purpose. I picked up my wine and took another sip, still holding the can of Diet Coke in my left hand.

Shoshana inclined her head and reached past me for a strawberry. She bit into it seductively, keeping her eyes on mine.

Whoa.

"I'm sorry," Shoshana said as she set the inedible part of the berry down on the plate. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable earlier." She picked up another strawberry. "You're right. That was bad manners." She looked at me in a way that offered to take me out back and show me a few things that involved close physical contact, manners be damned.

I shrugged and sipped the wine, thinking of the glass as a wall between us. "No problem." I didn't want to give her any sort of play.

"So I guess I should assume you're exclusive."

I stared at her but managed a response. "It's not an assumption. I am."

She smiled, a little sad, maybe. "Too bad." She looked me over again. "If you change your mind--" she reached up and slid a business card that I hadn't noticed in her hand into my shirt pocket. I stood frozen.

"Hey, Kase," Dayna said, smiling a greeting as she approached. She gave me a quick, careful hug so as not to disrupt my glass of wine.

Thank God.
"Hi," I said, exhaling in relief. "Thanks for coming."

Dayna glanced at Shoshana like she was going to introduce herself but I gave her a "don't go there" look and fortunately, Shoshana turned to address a question from an older man recognized as a representative from one of the foundations that sponsored Sage's Baja trip. She flicked a glance at me as she moved off with him.

"And thanks for coming to my rescue," I added.

Dayna laughed. "She's...interesting," she said noncommittally as she reached for a strawberry.

"And a little scary," I muttered.

"No comment. By the way, nice shirt," Dayna said. "No wonder Miss Thing tried to put her swerve on you."

"No, I think it's because I have this awesome glass of wine."

"Oh, of course." Dayna nodded, pretending to believe me.

Chris appeared and reached for a carrot. I handed her the Diet Coke.

"Thanks." Chris finished the carrot then opened the can and took a swig. She smiled at Dayna and the look on her face made me feel that all was right with the world. "I figured you'd be over here with the strawberries," Chris said, raising her eyebrows at Dayna.

"Not as good as the ones you always find for me." Dayna bumped her with her shoulder.

I made gagging noises. Chris shot me a look and Dayna giggled.

"Now you know what
I
had to put up with when you and Sage hooked up." Chris flashed me a "nanny boo boo" grin.

"That bad, huh?" I pretended innocence.

"Worse. But I wouldn't trade watching you fall for her for anything." She took Dayna's hand and caressed the back of it with her thumb.

"You're too fuckin' cute." I started to move away then stopped. "Oh, here. In case you need an art rep." I took the card out of my pocket and handed it to Chris, who looked at it, confused. "Dayna'll explain," I said cryptically. Before either could say anything else, I navigated my way through the crowd in search of Sage.

I found her near the image of Shiprock, holding court with five people. Three men, two women. I slipped in close, making sure she noticed me. Without interrupting her conversation, I handed her the full glass of wine and took her empty glass out of her other hand. She put her free hand on my arm, and I waited.

"Wayne, my partner, Dr. K.C. Fontero." Sage introduced me to a heavyset balding man about my height.

Uh-oh
. Sage had busted out my academic credentials. I gave Wayne a quick once-over. He wore khaki trousers and a dark green button-down shirt. He hadn't buttoned his collar all the way up and his white undershirt peeked above the fabric of his shirt. Little round wire frame glasses completed his preppie ensemble.

"Hi." I shook his hand and stifled a shudder. He had one of those limp fish grips.

"Wayne Hampton." He looked at me with disapproval. I wondered if it was because I was a woman or a lesbian or both. Maybe that's why he didn't really want to shake my hand. Dyke cooties. "I was asking Sage here about Shiprock and how the Navajo feel about photographs of it."

I looked at Sage, puzzled. She knew the answer to this question. I shrugged mentally. "As I'm sure Sage has already explained, it's always good to check in with tribal headquarters before you do any kind of art on Indian land. Common courtesy. The formation is considered sacred, but it's okay to take pictures of it. Just be respectful."

"But if you make money off this photograph--" he gestured at the image--"aren't you exploiting the Navajo for your own personal gain?"

Sage and I exchanged a "what's got this guy's undies in a wad" glance.

"I suppose it depends on intent and how you express it," I responded diplomatically.

He was about to say something more when Shoshana politely interrupted him. "Sage left explicit instructions with us that if this image sells, all proceeds are to go to a scholarship fund for Navajo high school students from the Four Corners area who are interested in pursuing fine arts after graduation."

The other people standing around us nodded and smiled, pleased at this information. What organization did Wayne run with, that he felt the need to go to an art opening and try beating people with the Indian exploitation stick? From a guy who seemed to have a problem with women at the very least, that struck me as a bit hypocritical. I glanced at Shoshana, actually grateful that she had intervened. She inclined her head at me then moved on through the crowd.

Wayne harrumphed and headed over to another group of people standing near the Baja images.

"Thanks," Sage said to me. "That's the asshole at Diné College in Shiprock who rides my case about the photos I do on Indian land." She pronounced it Din-eh, like it sounded when Navajos said it.

"That's the guy?" I looked at him again. "I can take him," I muttered, drawing a giggle from Sage. She was about to say something else when a trim woman wearing jeans and a casual black blouse approached. She wore her long dark hair loose and her dark eyes reminded me of pieces of black stone. She beelined for Sage.

"My apologies for Wayne's behavior," she said, regarding Sage. "He isn't always the most tactful person."

"Thanks," Sage responded, gracious. "But he does raise good questions."

I watched the exchange, wondering who this woman was and why the hell she'd bother apologizing for an ass like Wayne Hampton.

"I'm Tamara Kee," she said, apparently able to read my mind.

Sage's eyes lit up in recognition. "Of course. You teach at Diné College. Any word on the photography workshops I've proposed?"

Kee smiled, but her expression didn't lose its intensity. "I'm checking on a grant for three, a week long each. I've been out of town and didn't get a chance to respond to your last e-mail." At that juncture, she looked at me.

"K.C. Fontero," I offered. "Good to meet you."

She nodded once, then turned her attention back to Sage. "I was on my way back to Shiprock from Oklahoma and checked your event schedule on your website. This one fit into my travel plans."

"Thanks so much," Sage said, smiling. "I'm glad to meet you in person."

Kee nodded again and looked past Sage at the photo of Shiprock. She didn't say anything for a while, instead stood staring at the image. The way she examined it was just starting to creep me out when she turned back to Sage and spoke again. "When did you take this?"

"Last summer. June."

"Did you notice anything while you were out there?"

"Always. The light shifts quite a bit, which changes the way textures appear in a photo. It took about four hours to get that shot. It's one of several. That's the one that spoke to me."

Kee looked at the picture again then back at Sage, and I thought I saw the hint of a warning in her eyes. "All things have energy," she said. "Even those we don't think have ever been alive. Sometimes energies cross, and that can open possibilities for many things, both good and bad. Watch your next steps on your path." Kee turned to me, then. "You as well." And then she offered a wan smile. "Sage, I look forward to further conversations about workshops. Take care." And she moved off before either of us could say anything.

"Okay," I started. "What exactly did that mean?"

Sage shook her head, worry drawing lines across her forehead. "I'm not sure."

Whatever Kee implied, her words fell like snow on my bones.
Words. They're just words.
I tried to shake the little pall Kee's statements seemed to have created, but I thought instead of the body found on the Navajo Reservation. I glanced over at the photo of the Shiprock formation.

Sage took a sip of wine and made an appreciative noise. "Thank God for Chris making a wine run." She lapsed into silence for a moment then sighed in exaggerated annoyance. "Unfortunately, I now have to stop wanting to kick Shoshana's ass," she continued in a low voice.