"Like this, Kyle?" I finished my painting.

For as long as I can remember I have always been my version of an artist. Creating was a passion and it's the only thing I ever cherished. I was never remotely decent at anything else. I never had the patience to be good.

I already knew what Kyle was going to say before he spoke.

"Nice lines," he gestured, "good strokes. I can see an emotional scene towards the this blend. You're going in the right path but I feel like there's something out of place. Everything seems to have a certain overall tone within the colors. Its all very majestic. What's your theme?"

I always considered my work and style very Sylvia Plath. Titles and theme seem to ruin what a real piece of art is supposed to be. But this was Kyle, though an all around nice guy, he was sickeningly by the book. I rolled my eyes and obijed.

The first thing I could say was, "Shadows, we hide who we are underneath the surface. I wanted to show how smiles can deceive people who can't see through the transparency. Everyone is smiling, but its empty. There's no genuine feeling behind it; so we buy it because we all want happiness even if its fake."

Sometimes I surprise myself with my own findings. Kyle was the only person who praised me. He was more like an older brother to me. In many ways he was perfect for me; least I thought so. I barely know anyone from Boston but it sounds really amazing. He's been married for a few years now and he gets a little shy when anyone mentions it. He's private around most people, but around me its different. He talks more. Its refreshing since mostly these days people feel the need to keep secrets.

He taps his finger to his lips, "I see that. There's a lot of unanswered questions in this region here," he points to the bottom left. "The shading is really sharp. This is amazing. Its captured perfectly through the strokes and richness of the picture. I feel so much from this piece..."

He kills me when he trails off. I really wish I could hear his thoughts now. "What do you feel?"

He looked at me seriously. I uncomfortablely hopped off my stool and backed away. Maybe I over-stepped my bounds a little bit.

Thank god he broke contact and glanced behind me at the clock, "Oh, I have to meet my mom and dad tonight for dinner. Its a thing we do every week."

"Really? That's nice. I made plans too." Yeah right.

"Oh really, what's that?"

I nodded, leaving the answer vague, if I said anymore he's probably going to press. I started putting my supplies away and took my painting off the canvas to the drying area. "Yeah, nothing major. Making it a Blockbuster night is my ritual."

He chuckled and helped me rinse my brushes, "You should come wih us. My brother and his girlfriend are coming too. I think it'd be fun."

I was going between answers. The only single person at fancy ritual family dinner. Damn, I could just picture the aftermath of my head face down in the pillow crying. No thanks.

I blushed and turned around from him quickly. I couldn't say what I really wanted to tell him, he'd probably think I should be committed, in case he already thinks so.

"I can't. I have some stuff to do at home. Thanks though," I said sweetly, regretting it a little.

"Ok, well, if you change your mind come on by, or I'll come and get you. We usually stay pretty late there. My family's great actually. I know my mother would really love it if she met you."

"You told her about me?"

"I did a couple times yeah. Everyone knows about you."

Oh great. Is that a good thing? What hell has he told that? But seriously... Ugh, so tempting. Still, single person, I don't know. What would I bring to the conversation?

Fuck it.

"I'll be there. " Yeah, I have a death wish.

I slipped on my black dress shoes and looked up, "Hey Lucy, you ready to go?"

"Yeah... What time do we have to be there again?"

You know, I really wish she'd stop saying it like it’s an obligation. Lucy always gets annoyed with these rituals. She lets me know that before we go every time. She's perfect, raven-haired, everything I could want in a woman. Exotic looks, built like a Brazilian model on the catwalk. She dyed her hair darker because her friends liked it better. Never understood why she changed it. I hate that she makes those changes just because other people judge for her.

I'd like it more if someone appreciated who they are. I mean, I guess that's what I saw in the beginning. Who knows? I met her in a bar; could be anything.

My cell rang, "Hey big bro. What's that? Oh really? She's the student right? Yeah, the one you talk about. Oh really? Ok, cool, can't wait. Ok, well we're about to leave now. Bye."

I clicked it off and stuffed it in my pocket. I don't make it a habit to turn it off. I looked up and she's still in the bathroom. Now she has the door closed. She decided to take forever to apply make-up. Why do women feel the need to apply it all the time? Less is definitely more but wow. Sometimes its like why bother saying anything? Women get mad anyways. I always tell her she’s beautiful the way she is. I guess that isn’t enough.

We’re always the late ones. I think it’s starting to be a trademark now every week. I hate it because then I have to apologize for both of us when it’s really her fault. I’d like to admit it’s me, but it almost always is her. Women just take forever with everything. Least girls as opposed to my mother. Hopefully this won’t last when I get older. I’m 33 and my patience is wearing thinner then most men. I think maybe because I care about precious time. I don’t know, these days I feel like I’m aging by the second.

The car ride is always a special time for me. Why do girls ask so many questions? Good god and some don’t breathe in between them.

Thank god the Lounge was so close. How much more can I take?

I did love coming here though. Back in Cambridge, there was a place just like this. Kind of a dark, posh, quiet, semi-casual dining. The kind where people usually greet you by your first name. I liked anything that reminded me of home. I always want to go back. There were so many cool memories I had growing up. I remember balling my eyes out when I found out my mother found a job in West Los Angeles. She had gotten laid off because the school board had lost its founding budget for the art classes. Everybody in the art department was fired. Even the new teachers. There’s not a day goes by that I regret not helping out. I was 10 when we moved and that was the first time I remember being that emotional.

Kyle and I were both artists. Well, he’s an actual artist and I’m a poor excuse for one. Or so I tell myself.

Acting was a fantasy. When you’re a child, you love putting on those plays for family members and see the smiles on there faces for all your hard work. But it was never possible for me. So I became a writer instead. Another poor excuse for an artist. Still, I guess its humbling. I’m doing what I love to and that’s enough for me.

Ugh, oh yeah, back to life. After valet ate up another 20 or so (felt longer) minutes, we finally walked inside looking for our party. The place always smelled of perfume and chicken. Don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing. I’m indifferent.

I spotted the tabled near the back entrance. We always sat near the kitchen so it wasn’t hard to find. It practically had our names engraved on it. Go figure, right? Same table, nearly the same waiter. Some failed/struggling actor trying to rub two pennies together to get by plastering on a fake expression to make more than $50 in service tips. My parents really are so giving.

As we got closer to the table I noticed something was missing. Or someone. I only see my parents. But then again, they’re early usually. Normally Kyle joins in almost as if he rode with them.

Oh yeah, didn’t he have that girl with him? I forgot and it was only 30 minutes ago. We took our seats and relaxed. Lucy grabbed my hand from under the table and squeezed it. Was I shaking? I hadn’t noticed. Usually I’m much more attentive than this.

“I’m so sorry everyone. Please excuse my coming late.” I heard behind me.

I turned around. It must be her. The student. I could see why she was his favorite. For some odd reason she just screamed creative. She sat down between Kyle and me. She definitely had that extroverted attitude down. I’d be nervous too if I was meeting someone else’s family like it’s an interview for a job. Luckily for her the lights were so dimmed I could barely make out any expressions.

I stuck out my hand in front of her, “Hi, I’m Josh, Kyle’s brother. Glad you can join us tonight.”

Did I have to emphasize the glad? Not really, but I did.

She accepted my hand and gave a thin smile. “Hi, thank you. I’m Layla. Sorry again for coming late. We got caught up talking about my next project in class. It was my fault.”

“It’s alright.” That’s all I can say? Why the hell was I stuttering?

“That’s quite alright. I’m Karen, Kyle and Josh’s mom. It’s nice to finally meet you after all the sweet things that Kyle has said about you. He says you are quite the artist.”

She looked away and even in the shaded lighting, you can make out the hit of red forming at the tops of her cheeks. “He’s a nice teacher. He really helps improve.”

God, she’s so young. What is she? 18? 17? 15? I didn’t even know who I was at those ages. I still don’t. It sounds like she has a good sense of herself. It’s kind of scaring me a little. Oh boy, here comes the grilling.

The rest of the dinner was fairly silent. Except for a couple odd personal questions direct from Karen Chasez. She’s dying to know too much if you ask me. But I guess that’s what mothers are for. Hell if I had that when I was growing up. I guess my childhood was all that bad. Pretty normal for someone raised in the valley. People used to ask me at school if we were rich. We were as suburbia as we can get. We were a very average family. And we were nothing like the Chasezes. Not even close to the middle class.

"Hey Kyle, how’s the class going?" Thank you Josh, I never thought I’d be glad to hear another voice.

Kyle looked up for a split second and then back to menu, "It’s going well. Layla’s like my TA. She makes class fun."

Hm, I do? That’s news to me. Is he trying to look good in front of his parents or something? He’s an OK teacher but I’m far from what he’s saying about me. Also, it’s hard to make anything fun when people are so serious.

"Son, hello? Can you hear me? Joshua?" Dang, his parents use his full name.

"Yeah, dad? Sorry…" He stumbled on his words. Maybe it was that girl that’s currently chained against his body.

"We were just wondering what you were going to do about that screenplay. Has John read it yet?"

"Yeah, well not yet. I called him yesterday to get review on it. He'll let me know as soon as he finishes reading it."

Screenplay? He's a writer? "What are you writing about?"

"I guess it’s like a character study. I don’t really know actually. I had a thesis but I needed John’s take on it. I’m gonna call him again soon."

You’re writing something and you don’t know what it is? Is that possible? Guess now it is.

Oh no, she’s looking at me. I dreaded the next question.

"Layla, we wanted to know if you would join us on our trip to Saint Barts. Kyle mentioned that his wife is on a business trip and can’t make it. I know it’s a big offer but its up to you honey. I’m sure it’ll be nice of you to come."

"Plus there’s that extra ticket." Roy Chasez followed.

His wife gave him that look that he was "out-of-line" and in a way, he was. Me? Going on a free trip without a catch involved? There’s got to be a catch. I opted to know more before I accepted a golden ticket for free. There is no such thing as an offer as prodigious as this without some kind of payback.

Am I just being silly? She could be just offering a nice vacation on them. I was so confused. But who says I have to answer now?

I bowed my head in respect, "Thank you, I will think about it." What else could I add?

"You know, guys, maybe this is too soon. I mean everybody just met her. Besides, why isn’t Jennea coming Kyle?" Josh asked beside me.

I could tell Kyle looked uncomfortable. Dang, even around his family, it’s a sore subject.

"She’s good. She just has more jobs to do. We’ve discussed it. She’s coming back during the fall. Right after the trip. Things are OK."

The way he said was like something I would say to shut someone up. Not saying it wasn’t true. It’s not my business what goes on outside the classroom. I mean, he trusts me to sub for him on occasion.

All this is coming from me. Last thing I need is to cause a riff between the brothers. I should say something. "You know, its alright. I’d rather not put anyone out and get in the way of family plans. Really, it’s ok. It was a nice gesture though, thank you."

I really backed out. They just offered me a dream vacation of a lifetime and I drop it like it’s a dirty rag. But I had to decline. Things like this are beyond too good to be true. I really didn’t want to explain myself if anybody asks me why.

There was so much tension in the scene I felt like someone was going to shoot me between my eyes like in Taxi Driver. When you’re in unreal situations like this, it’s almost like your waiting for someone to say "cut." But no one did. This was real. Fuck. SOMEone say something.

I needed a break. I had to or I was about to burst. Not sure with what. I stood up and excused myself. I didn’t wait for their answer I almost bolted from my chair to the ladies room. I forgot what this place was called when I opened the door. I feel like I can sleep in here. The room was almost as dark as outside. Deep brown couches lined up in each corner. They all just called for me to flop down on and shut my eyes. I just stood there. Just stood there looking. This is ridiculous. Why was I behaving like a crazy person? I think overeating covers it.

Ugh, just go back and seat down like a normal human being person. Don’t let them know anything is up. Don’t give yourself away. You’ve already humiliated yourself enough.

I took a deep breath, turned back around and screamed. "What are you doing here?"

My worst nightmare was coming true. He grabbed my arm and pulled me to him, "Stay quiet. You’re coming with me."