“I knew you wouldn’t be able to leave it alone,” Lardo snarled from below.
Bobby Ray hauled himself up to the roof and stuffed the rope in his bag. The piece was big enough to draw attention, small enough to be precise, and positioned where volunteers wouldn’t be in a hurry to risk life or limb to cover it.
He spotted someone in the apartment house across the street. Was the guy reporting him or viewing the graffiti as an improvement? Bobby Ray shouldered his pack and climbed down the fire escape to meet Lardo on the street.
The whoop of a police siren made Bobby Ray’s pulse jump. Lardo took off. The size of a linebacker, he could run over anyone who got in his way. “Cut right!” Bobby Ray shouted after him. Lardo understood the message and took a left in an alley. Bobby Ray waited for the cops to spot him before leading them on a merry chase. Adrenaline surged through him, heightening his senses.
The sun was coming up when he climbed, unnoticed, through the window of his latest foster parents’ apartment.
The next morning, Lardo fell into step with Bobby Ray in the high school corridor. “Where you been all morning?”
“Sleeping in.” Chuck, his foster father, had rousted Bobby Ray at ten and told him to get to school. He didn’t want social services breathing down his neck again after last week. Chuck spent most of his time sprawled in front of the television, drinking Budweiser. He worked nights at a parking garage. Josey worked days at a grocery store. Bobby Ray could count on his fingers the number of times the three of them had been in the house together. Eight. Always on the day a social worker scheduled a look-see.
Lardo grinned. “You put that red face on the Ellis building? The one making the windows look like eyes?”
“A month ago.”
“Someone was taking pictures.”
Probably the cops who kept files on gang taggers. Each graffiti artist had his own style. Bobby Ray wanted his work recognized, but he’d have to find ways to work faster or end up in jail.
Lardo started talking about another party happening. Bobby Ray wasn’t interested. He needed to get to American history.
He shoved the door open and slid into a desk at the back. Mr. Newman was lecturing again on the Civil War, but Bobby Ray’s thoughts drifted to the Ellis Street building. He’d like to paint it end-to-end with heads, each a different color, all with dark window eyes, doors like gaping mouths screaming, laughing, baring teeth. How many cans of paint would that take? He’d need a crew working with him. He’d have to keep the design simple so others could fill in color. He’d need lookouts and time. Problem was he liked working alone, with one guy on watch.
Someone sitting near him asked a question about Civil War weaponry and brought Bobby Ray out of his dreaming. He tried to concentrate. A girl in the front row took notes. She was one of the quiet ones who kept her head down, studied hard, and dreamed of getting out of the Tenderloin. Bobby Ray opened his notebook and started sketching. He flipped another page and drew a gangsta on the marble steps of city hall, a black briefcase in his hand.
A hand planted itself in the middle of his drawing. Bobby Ray flinched. Mr. Newman turned the notebook and studied the picture. His brows flicked up over his dark-rimmed glasses. “Are you taking art?”
“No.”
The teacher took his hand away. “Test on Friday. In case you didn’t hear. The chapters are listed on the board.” He lowered his voice. “Draw me a Confederate soldier and a Union soldier, and I’ll count them toward the term paper you didn’t turn in.”
Frowning, Bobby Ray shut his notebook and leaned back in his chair as he watched Mr. Newman walk to the front of the class. He itched to get a can of Krylon and break into school so he could put something more interesting than a list of chapters on that sweet black chalkboard. Even if the janitor cleaned it off before the day was over. But he’d get expelled and moved again. He had friends here. He wanted to stick.
He stretched out his legs, thinking. He’d have to do some research at the library if he was going to draw Civil War soldiers.
Lardo met him by the lockers. The two of them were the only ones still attending school; the rest of the gang members had dropped out. They spent most of their days at Reaper’s place, playing video games, eating junk food, and smoking pot.
Red Hot, Reaper’s older brother, had connected with a cartel. Some hard dudes came by, and Bobby Ray stayed in the shadows when they did. Reaper liked playing the big man when his brother wasn’t around. He had two trophy kids under two years of age from different girls. Every time he bragged about them, Bobby Ray thought of his mother. Was that what happened to her? Some guy knocked her up just to prove he was a man, then dumped her and moved on to another?
“Hey, Bird! Wake up!” Lardo punched Bobby Ray in the shoulder. “Are you going to the party tonight or not?”
“Not in the mood.” Pot made him slow and dumb, and he’d seen enough of what heroin and meth did to stay away from the stuff. Mr. Newman’s offer throbbed behind his eyes like an oncoming headache. He liked going to the library, though he made sure no one knew about his visits. It was a quiet place to chill. He’d rather read than do homework. He’d rather look at pictures of Civil War soldiers than listen to Reaper or Wolf talking about their women. Tonight, at least.
GRACE MET HER FRIENDS Shanice Tyson, Ashley O’Toole, and Nicole Torres at their favorite Sunday-after-church diner. Shanice looked disappointed. “Where’s our little man?”
“He’s at home with Selah. He had a fever. I was up and down with him most of the night. He’s fine this morning, but sleepy.” Grace had given in to Selah’s desire to keep Samuel home. She wanted to go to church and have her weekly time out with friends. This lunch gathering had become a lifeline. Talking with her friends helped her work through things. And she needed to talk over her situation with Roman Velasco and get their input.
A kindergarten teacher, Ashley dealt with helicopter parents.
Nicole worked as a paralegal for a law firm and had a hopeless crush on Charles, her work-obsessed boss.
Shanice, the wild one, had graduated from NYU, taken a year off to travel, and landed a studio job where she was on a set design team. She’d met movie stars and said they were no different from anyone else, even though some of them thought they were. Now she was telling the others about her latest job assignment. “The director wants to film in Utah at the salt flats. The place has the right alien-planet look.”
“Will you get to go?” Ashley dreamed of traveling anywhere outside Southern California. Hooked on old-fashioned Regency romances, she longed to go to England and stay in a castle, preferably one with an eligible and aristocratic bachelor in residence.
“Not if I can help it.” Shanice snorted. “It’s hotter than hades in the summer. Mono Lake is closer and more interesting, but they said Utah, and Utah gives tax credits.”
“I have a book on Mono Lake.” Ashley emptied three packets of Splenda into her coffee.
Nicole sipped hers black. “Pastor Jack was on a roll this morning. He doesn’t usually talk for a full hour. I thought he’d never stop.”
“Ironic you should complain.” Shanice smirked. “Since his sermon was on complaining.”
They all laughed with her.
“You’re awfully quiet, Grace.” Shanice raised her brows. “How’s the temp job going? It’s been, what, a month now? You thought you might only stay two weeks.”
“I’m thinking of putting in my notice with the agency.”
“Why?” Ashley looked surprised. “Roman Velasco is fascinating! And he’s gorgeous, and if that isn’t enough, he’s single!” The others stared at her. “I googled him.” She leaned forward, eager to share. “He started doing murals when he was a teenager. Now he works on canvas. Did you know art collectors line up to bid on his work?”
“He still does murals.” Grace gave the waitress her order and handed back the menu. She’d overslept this morning and had no time for breakfast. Now she was starving, as well as exhausted.
“He’s under contract for a project in San Diego.”
Ashley’s eyes brightened. “What’s it going to be?”
“Wildebeests and zebras migrating across the Serengeti.” Grace sipped coffee, hoping the caffeine would give her a boost.
Nicole wasn’t interested in the mural. “Why do you want to leave? It’s the only job you’ve been able to find.”
Shanice gave a derisive laugh. “Gorgeous? Single? And has a reputation as a player?” She shrugged. “Okay. I googled him, too.” She gave Grace a sympathetic look. “Too much like Patrick?”
“Actually, he’s nothing like Patrick. He works hard, for one thing. And Patrick had charm. Roman Velasco acts like a bear with his foot in a trap. I’ve never met anyone so discontented, or so quick to lose his temper. You know I almost quit on the first day. He’s frustrated with his work, not mine. I don’t think he likes what he’s doing.” She put her coffee cup down. “The man has the most incredible view I’ve ever seen and never gives it more than a passing glance. He turned the master bedroom into his art studio. I think he practices on the back wall and then covers whatever he’s doing with some awful color that looks like a dirty swamp. His language is enough to peel paint.”
Shanice looked worried. “Is he verbally abusive to you?”
“No. He’s cautiously polite when I’m around, but the house is practically empty. His voice carries.”
“You must be attracted to him.” Ashley looked dreamy-eyed. “I mean, who wouldn’t be?”
“Handsome is as handsome does, my granny used to say.” Shanice’s phone buzzed. She gave it a cursory glance and put it on mute. “Grace has reason to be careful.”
Grace couldn’t agree more. “My guard went up the minute I saw him.”
“Why?” Nicole studied her.
To avoid the scrutiny, Grace looked down while she smoothed her napkin across her lap. “He’s living the American dream and seems to hate his life. It’s what I notice whenever I have a conversation with him that lasts longer than two minutes.” She let out her breath. “The thing is, I’m exhausted. The commute can take up to two hours each way. I’m lucky to have an hour to play with Samuel. I’ll never have the energy to take online classes. And the money isn’t very good. I don’t know what he pays the temp agency, but I’m barely making ends meet. I need a regular job with better pay so I can be on my own again.”
Nicole frowned. “Are the Garcias pushing you out?”
“No, but Selah is taking over completely. I think she’s glad I’m away all day.” She blinked back tears. “Samuel is becoming very attached to her.”
Shanice leaned forward. “You’re still his mother, Grace.”
“Does he know that?”
“Of course he does, honey.”
“Better keep the job until you have another lined up,” Nicole suggested.
“I think so, too,” Ashley chimed in. Even with tenure, Ashley never took her teaching job for granted. The school district budget could bring layoffs.
“I know, but I still have to try. I have two interviews coming up. I’ve already put Mr. Velasco’s office in order. The next temp will have no problem maintaining the system if he hires a replacement quickly.”
“Sounds like he’s satisfied with the way things are.”
Grace looked at Shanice. “I’m sure he is, and I’m also sure once the word is out, he’ll have women lined up at the door, eager to replace me.”
Roman always knew when Grace Moore came into the studio. The air in the room changed. He’d finished another transfer and was taking a break, sketching ideas for a new series of canvases while pretending he didn’t know she was standing in the doorway. She cleared her throat softly. He looked over his shoulder. “What’s up?”
She tucked a short strand of hair behind her ear. A nervous gesture? “I have to leave early Wednesday and Friday next week. I have two job interviews scheduled.”
His pulse shot up. He thought everything had been going so well. “You already have a job. You work for me.”
“You pay the temp agency for my services, Mr. Velasco. And I told you—I need to find a better-paying job, closer to home.”
“Are you late getting home to fix dinner for your partner?” She wasn’t wearing a ring, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have a significant other in her life.
“Everything is caught up in the office, and I—”
“Where do you live?” Roman faced her, determined to fix whatever needed fixing.
“Burbank.”
“It’s not that far, less than twenty miles as the crow flies.”
“I’m not a crow. I spend hours in my car every day, time I . . .” She hesitated. “Time better spent in other ways.”
What other ways? he wanted to ask, but figured she’d tell him it was none of his business. In truth, it wasn’t, but he still wanted to know. She wasn’t giving him a chance to pry.
“Your office is organized, and I’ve written a brief procedures manual for your next personal assistant. I’m not leaving immediately, but I thought I should let you know I’ll be leaving as soon as I find another position more conducive to my needs.” She took a step back, clearly eager to put an end to the conversation.
“Not so fast.” The stool scraped across the floor as he stood. “I’m not hiring another temp.”
“That’s your decision.” She shrugged as if she didn’t care what he did. “The filing system is straightforward. You could manage it by yourself.”
“The last thing I want to be is an office lackey.”
She raised her chin. “It’s not exactly what I dream of doing for the rest of my life, either. You have the option of hiring someone to do it for you.”
Roman muttered a curse under his breath. “Look. We work well together. What do I have to do to keep you here?”
“We don’t work together.”
“You do your job so I can do mine. That’s the way I like it. You don’t like the money. Okay. I’ll pay the fee and you can work for me instead of the agency. You don’t like the commute. Okay. You can live in my guest cottage. Both problems solved.” The expression on her face was downright insulting. “What’s the matter with the offer? I’m not asking you to move in with me. You’re not my type, and I can guarantee I won’t be bothering you.” He wasn’t sure the blush was due to anger or embarrassment, but he knew he’d said more than enough.
“And what will the neighbors say?”
He couldn’t tell if she was serious or joking. “What neighbors? And even if I did have neighbors close enough to see anything, why would they care what we do?”
“I have friends, even if you don’t.”
She punched low. She wanted out. Because of him? Or were there other reasons? Roman clenched his teeth. What was it with this woman? “We’re adults, Ms. Moore. Good friends won’t tell you how to live. Your life is your business.”
“They keep me accountable.”
“To them?”
“God cares what I do, and my friends love me enough to hold up a warning sign if I’m heading the wrong way.”
God? How did God get into this conversation? Roman didn’t understand what she was talking about. All he knew was he didn’t want to lose her. He spoke slowly, reasonably, while thinking fast. “Invite them up. Let them look around.” He tried a little charm. “A rent-free cottage in Topanga Canyon? They’ll think you’ve died and gone to heaven.”
“Until they meet you.”
He could tell she hadn’t meant to say that when her cheeks bloomed crimson. “Nice.” He gave a low, mirthless laugh. She didn’t offer an apology. He tilted his head, giving her a wry look. “I didn’t say you could invite them into my house.” She couldn’t hold his stare. “Just think about it. I’ll start you off at what I pay the agency.” When he told her how much that was, her eyes widened. “Add free housing to that raise, and you’ll be doing pretty well for yourself, won’t you?” He could see her making calculations already, but also carrying on an inner
debate whether the offer was worth working for him. He’d never had that effect on a woman before. Did it all go back to his bad behavior on the first day? Or was there more to her aversion?
“I’ll have to pay you rent.”
Was she from another planet? At least she was starting to consider the idea. “As you already know, I don’t need the money.”
“Nevertheless. I wouldn’t be your guest, Mr. Velasco. I’d be your tenant.” She seemed to catch herself and added quickly, “If I agreed to the arrangement, which I haven’t.”
Yet. He could see her weakening. He’d never had to negotiate with a woman and found it vaguely unsettling. Maybe she sensed he wasn’t what he pretended to be. “It’d solve all your problems, wouldn’t it?”
“Not all of them.” She took another step back. “I’d better get to work.”
What other problems did she have? “You said you were all caught up. Why don’t we talk?”
“Whatever I decide, I appreciate the offer.”
He’d never met anyone less eager to talk about themselves than he was. “Okay, but think it over carefully before you say no.”
“I will.”
The more Roman thought about it, the better he liked the idea of Grace Moore being his next-door neighbor.
Grace called her friends, and they agreed to talk it over during Sunday lunch. She brought Samuel this time, and they all fussed over him. He loved the attention. She dug into her tote bag for baby food and then gave him a bottle while the others talked about a new praise band member who was teaching the Wednesday evening Bible study. Grace brought up Roman Velasco’s offer.
Ashley forgot all about the new guitarist with a voice like Josh Groban. “What are you waiting for, Grace? He’s not asking you to move in with him. You’d have your own place again. Isn’t that what you want?”
Nicole wasn’t so eager. “You’d better make sure you have a written rental agreement. Without it, he could change the rules anytime he wanted.”
The Masterpiece Page 4