“There.” Jennifer stepped back to admire her handiwork, making a minute adjustment to Justin’s tie. “You look wonderful.”

Justin shot a glance at Brian. Jennifer knew that look. It was the my mother is insane and quite possibly smothering me oh my god I am not twelve anymore please help me look.

“Honey, I just want you to look perfect for your first show.”

“It’s not MY show,” Justin pointed out in that oh-so-reasonable tone that irritated her to no end. She was sure he got that from his father. “It’s three paintings displayed alongside eleven other artists in a little run-down gallery in Soho that probably nobody will even attend. I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal of this.”

Jennifer huffed out a sigh. “Brian, will you talk to him?”

Brian pushed away from the wall. “I’ve tried,” he said. “I fear it’s a lost cause. His refusal to acknowledge that he is perched on the cusp of greatness is a innate character flaw. I don’t know why I put up with it.”

Justin smirked. “Fuck you.”

“Not while Mother Taylor is visiting, dear.”

Jennifer eyed the two of them. “Next time, I’m bringing Debbie,” she said, and watched with undisguised glee at the look of horror they shared. “Now, if we don’t hurry up we’re going to be late,” she continued, pressing on Justin’s back to hustle him to the door. “Your first show, honey. This is so exciting!”

“Save me,” Justin whispered over his shoulder.

“Are you kidding?” Brian said. “This is going to be much more entertaining than I thought.”