Silver Linings

I've never accidentally shot anyone in my life. That kind of thing I tend to do on purpose.”
    “Calm down, Hugh,” Mattie said, her voice soothing. “I realize you're still a little wired from the adrenaline, but there's no need to get short-tempered.”
    “Wired? Short-tempered? You haven't seen anything yet, babe.”
    She smiled brightly. “Why don't you make us all a nice pot of herbal tea? I have some chamomile in the kitchen That will settle everyone's nerves.”
    “My nerves are just fine, thanks. I'm not real happy but my nerves are in great shape.”
    “Well, perhaps Flynn would like some herbal tea,' Mattie said, glancing down at the artist who was struggling to his knees.
    “No,” Flynn whispered, holding up a pleading hand and looking seasick. “No herbal tea. To tell you the truth, I'm feeling a little rocky at the moment. Don't want to puke all over your nice rug.”
    “Don't even think of getting sick in here,” Hugh warned.
    Mattie frowned. “Don't sound so menacing, Hugh. You're just going to make him more tense.”
    “This may come as a serious shock to you, Mattie, but I really don't give a damn about Grafton's stress level.” He turned to Flynn, who was pulling himself up onto the couch. “Stop playing the wounded innocent and tell me what you're doing here before I really get stressed out to the max and take you over to that window, open it, and drop you onto the street.”
    “ Hugh .” Mattie sent him a reproachful glance.
    Hugh ignored it, his eyes on Flynn. “Let's have the explanation, Grafton.”
    Flynn made it to the couch and sank wearily down onto the cushions. He put his head in his hands. “I came to ask Mattie if I could spend the night.”
    “The hell you did. That settles it. I am going to drop you out the window. But first I'm going to do a neo-impressionistic job on that pretty face of yours.” Hugh started forward.
    “No, Hugh, stop. Stop this at once.” Mattie threw herself into his path, holding up an imperious palm. “This isn't Purgatory or St. Gabriel, damn it. You're back in civilization now, and you will behave in a civilized fashion, do you hear me?”
    “Out of my way, Mattie.”
    “No, I will not get out of your way. This is my home and I run things here. Now, you are not going to beat up Flynn. Is that clear? I'm sure he didn't mean what you thought he meant when he said he wanted to spend the night.”
    “He meant to spend the night with you. You heard him. He said so himself,” Hugh snarled. “Get out of my way, Mattie.”
    “He just wanted to sleep on my couch, didn't you, Flynn?” Mattie turned to her uninvited guest for confirmation.
    Flynn raised his head, looking baffled by the commotion. “Sure. Just wanted to sleep on the couch. Ariel and I had an argument. Came over here to see if you'd put me up, Mattie. What's the problem?”
    “I don't believe this.” Hugh pinned Mattie with his coldest gaze. “Does he spend the night on your couch regularly?”
    “Of course not.” Mattie looked anxiously at Flynn. “This is the first time he's ever asked to stay here. I take it the argument was pretty bad, Flynn?”
    “Bad enough.” Flynn collapsed back against the cushions, closing his eyes wearily. “I keep telling myself she's entering her Early Mature period, but I'm not so sure anymore. I know she's temperamental by nature, but lately it's been downright crazy. Her moods are all over the place.”
    Mattie patted him gently on the shoulder. “What did you fight about?”
    “Same old thing. My painting. But this time she really went bonkers.”
    “Why?”
    “Because I told her my mind was made up. I've got some stuff ready to show you, Mattie. I want you to tell me if you think you can sell it to your crowd of upwardly mobile Borgias and Medicis.”
    Mattie sank down onto the couch beside Flynn. “No wonder Ariel blew up. She's been fighting you every step of the way on this project.”
    “Yeah. But I've made up my mind to do it, Mattie. I can't live on her money any longer. Besides, truth is, I'm damned tired of doing art for art's sake. Hell, maybe I just want to prove my old man wrong after all these years. Maybe I want to show him that I can make a living at my art. I don't know. All I know is that I want to try putting some stuff into your gallery.”
    “I understand,” Mattie said, still patting his shoulder.
    “Look, I'm sure this is all very touching,” Hugh interrupted sarcastically. “And believe me, I'm