Satin High Quality XXX

Todd gets a late night call from Angelica.

"Let's make dinner at home."

She was beside herself that he was addressing the condo as 'home', and that she was a part of it. He wasn't calling it 'my home' or 'my condo'. It was just 'home'. She walked back to the three of them.

"Good phone call?" her father asked with a smile noting the dance.

"Yes," she smiled. "That was the best thing that has happened to me in a long time."

"And that is?" her mother led on not smiling like her husband was. The smile on her daughter's face meant it was a boy. She had seen it before.

"That was Gavin," Alex smiled. "We have been dating for about four months now."

"Four months?" her father gasped. "And you didn't tell us?"

"Well," Alex shrugged embarrassedly. "I didn't want to jinx it."

"Does this one have a job?" her mother asked immediately with a deep frown.

"Yes," Alex growled. With the one question, Alex lost a bit of her happiness that Gavin wanted to meet her parents. She instantly began to rethink the idea of introducing them now.

"Really?" her mother asked disbelieving.

"Yes mother! Why do you have to be like that?" Alex barked as she crossed her arms angrily across her chest.

"Because the last three we have met have been unemployed artists," her mother pointed out disdainfully.

"I'm an unemployed artist," Alex groused. "Sorry to be such an embarrassment! I didn't realize you despised us so much!"

"That's not what I said," her mother defended angrily. "Don't go putting words into my mouth!"

"You don't have to say it," Alex growled, her fists balling up. "It's the tone you use."

"I have a tone?" her mother smiled. This was the same fight they had numerous times. More times that Alex could count and she was tired of it. She was an adult now. Not beholden to their rules or their desires.

"Marylyn," Alex's father cut in. "We haven't seen Alex in over a year, let's not start the first day! Can we not just be happy for her? I mean, she has this incredible accomplishment of this mural. And she has a man that makes her happy. She is now making money with her artwork. In some cases, that makes her very successful!"

"Alfred," Marylyn started back, tired of this constant defense of their youngest daughter. Alex looked to Lena who mouthed the word 'sorry' to her. Alex shook her head, it wasn't her fault.

"Enough," he said firmly cutting her off. He turned to Alex with apologetic eyes and a soft smile.

"Alex, can we meet him?" her father asked.

"Please?" he pleaded when she hesitated. She was thinking about not going through with it. She wanted to say 'as long as mother doesn't come', but knew that wasn't going to happen.

"Yes," she smiled when her father put his hands on her shoulders. "He has invited us to his place for dinner."

"He doesn't live with a large group of guys, does he?" Marylyn asked remembering the last boyfriend she had. He was some sort of poet, from what she could remember, and he lived with six or seven other artists sharing a small two bedroom apartment.

"Jesus Christ," Alex fumed.

"Do not use the Lord's name in vain!" Marylyn chastised angrily.

"Do not embarrass me!" Alex warned back. "Or it will be the last guy you meet until I have popped out a couple of kids!" The threat caused her mother to gasp.

"Both of you take a deep breath," Alfred said firmly. "You two can't keep going on like this!"

"Sorry Dad," Alex exhaled. Her mother said nothing as she scowled angrily as she crossed her arms.

They walked into the condo building and the man behind the counter stood up.

"Good evening Miss Lasko," the man said formally.

"Good evening Mike," Alex smiled at him. "Is he home yet?"

"Yes ma'am," he nodded. "Is the wall ready?" he asked.

"Finished it today," Alex smiled as they waited for the elevator. "Are you going to come by and see it?"

"I wouldn't miss it Miss Lasko," the door man smiled.

Alex's hand shook as she pulled her key to the door. Her mother looked down at her with an up-ticked brow.

"You have a key to his place?" her mother asked, her words dripping with disproval.

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