Page 46 of Better Luck Next Time

“I bet you would,” Stella said, giving her the side-eye.

“I’m sorry,” Finn said, sounding just as taken aback as Adalia felt. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She gave Adalia a cold look. “I know your type.”

Which still didn’t answer the question.

A goat emerged from the trees, chewing on what looked to be a tin can.

Stella spun around and headed back into the trees. “Well, are you coming or not?”

“Why do I suddenly feel like we’re Hansel and Gretel?” Adalia whispered to Finn.

“It’s a valid concern. What do you think is in there?”

“Obviously a black cauldron over a fire, or a giant oven to cook us in. Probably both.”

Finn grinned, his eyes lighting up. “So why are we following her?”

Adalia grinned back. “Don’t pretend you’re not as curious as I am, but once we get back there, it’s every man and woman for themselves. Got it?”

He laughed. “Got it.”

But she knew he was lying, just as she knew that his eyes were the color of the Caribbean Sea. He wouldn’t leave her to fend for herself.

When they cleared the trees, they found a worn gazebo with a painting on an easel in the center next to a table covered with paints and a plastic tumbler that read,You have goat to be kidding me. But it was the scene around the gazebo that stopped them in their tracks. There had to be nearly twenty goats scattered around the tree-enclosed space, which included a couple of broken-down cars, a riding lawn mower, a few rusted bikes, and a moped.

It was then Adalia realized the painting was of a goat standing on top of a car that had a chicken behind the wheel. The car was running over another goat.

“How could a chicken hold on to a steering wheel?” Finn asked under his breath. “They don’t have opposable thumbs.”

She shot him a confused look as she whisper-shouted, “You see that painting andthat’swhat you ask?”

He shrugged, trying to keep a straight face. “It’s a legit question.”

“I’m sure Stella will be happy to tell you when you escort her to the art show.”

“Are you coming?” Stella asked as she clomped across the gazebo’s wooden floor.

“Uh, sure. That’s why we’re here,” Adalia said, starting to move closer, but Finn remained in place.

One of the goats was climbing onto the gazebo, and it started chewing on a painting that was resting on the floor against a post. It was of a goat and a pig on a tandem bike that had a chicken trapped underneath its wheel. Stella seemed to ignore the animal as it chomped down on the frame.

Adalia snagged Finn’s wrist and tugged, whispering, “You brought me here. You’re participating.”

They walked into the gazebo, dodging goats, and got a good look at the eight other pieces that were propped up on a handrail on one side—all paintings of goats and chickens, some with a few pigs thrown in. In every painting but one, the animals were using various modes of transportation, and several of them depicted the animals in the throes of violence.

“My art is representative of man and his war against nature.”

Adalia thought they had more of aPlanet of the Apesvibe, minus the human slaves, but artwasleft for the viewer to interpret.

“There aren’t any people in those, are there?” Finn asked, whispering in Adalia’s ear.

Fighting a smile, she poked her elbow into his stomach. She wouldnotlaugh at this woman and her work, but admittedly she couldn’t believe Dottie had recommended her. Unless her paintings sold for a lot of money…then bring them on.

Another goat had wandered onto the gazebo and started sniffing Finn’s pants pocket. He tried to brush it away.

“And the goats roaming around are your inspiration?” Adalia asked. “I didn’t know you could have so many within city limits.” She and Finn shifted to the other end of the gazebo, but the goat followed Finn, now trying to chew on the flap of his belt.

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