“I don’t know. I never asked. But I saw you.”
“You were in classes all day.”
“I forgot my notes, so I came home.”
Julia looked at her sister. Really looked at her.
“I saw him in Paris’s room. He was talking to Dr. Mason. He told him to come over. He had a gun. He told Dr. Mason, ‘Little boys run away all the time, so what’s one more bullet?’”
While Julia watched Alice, I pulled Roy behind the partition. Another shot rang out. It tore through the thin wall. There was a metallic clang, then one of the copper pots flew off the hook and landed in the floor.
The rabbit skittered in a circle. White framed the rich brown irises of its eyes.
“Tell me, Julia.” I’d never heard Alice yell before. It was frightening. “Did you shoot Andrew?”
“He’s gone. It doesn’t matter.”
“It does. To me, it does.” A sob butchered Alice’s words.
I squeezed Roy’s arm. Sweat beaded his forehead. He gripped his thigh, but the blood welled up between his fingers.
The rabbit paused at the other end of the wall, then dashed across the space.
I leaned forward. The rabbit stopped halfway to the elevator and looked back at us.
“Okay.” I nodded. “Okay, we’ll try.”
“Try what?” Roy gave me a questioning look.
I shook my head. There was no time to explain the rabbit. Hell, there was no time for me to even understand it.
“Go home, Alice.”
“I need to know.”
“Why?”
I was almost to my feet when Alice said, “Because if you shot him, then I killed Daddy for no reason.”
The silence was momentary but absolute.
Julia said, “What are you talking about?”
“He laid the gun down on the bedside table and was looking through Paris’s backpack. I picked it up while he was turned around. He asked me what I was doing. I asked him if he killed Andrew, and he wouldn’t tell me. He told me to give him the gun. I wouldn’t, and he yelled at me. Daddy never yelled at me. He tried to take it away. I thought he killed him, Julia. I thought he killed Andrew so I pulled the trigger.”
“Daddy killed himself.” Julia’s razor sharp tone had dulled with muted grays. “The police said so. He put the gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger.”
“I got really close. I wanted to look at him in the eye so I would know if he was lying. I wanted him to tell me the truth, but he just yelled and yelled, and yelled.”
I put Roy’s arm around my shoulder. He shook his head. I think he saw in my eyes I was not going to leave him, because he nodded and helped me stand him up.
“Just go home, we’ll talk about this later.”
“No.”
That was another first. Alice never told Julia no.
“I didn’t have a choice, all right. He knew Daddy was weak. Andrew tricked him. He made him… Andrew was going to ruin everything. His lies were going to put us out on the street.”
I took the opportunity to make a run for the door.
If I could get to the foyer, there was enough of an alcove between it and the lift we’d be shielded. It didn’t even occur to me that the elevator might take time to open. Not that it mattered.
The bullet punched me in the back. Roy tried to catch me, and we wound up in a heap on the floor.
Alice grabbed Julia’s hands, and the second shot shattered a lamp on a side table. Glass fragments littered the floor in chips of white.
The rabbit slipped on the tile and crashed into the wall. It regained its balance, then scurried across the room and dove behind the sofa.
Julia shoved Alice into one of the workbenches and slipped on a smear of paint. Julia tried to counter her fall, but a shredded canvas tangled up in her fancy high heels.
She fell against a stool, it toppled over and both of them went to the floor.
There was a dull pop, then Julia lay there looking surprised. Alice rolled away. Blood gushed from the hole in her back. She got to her knees, reached for the edge of the table but collapsed.
Julia stared at the gun in her hand, then me. Her face turned a shade close to purple. “Look what you made me do!”
Alice dragged herself across the floor.
Julia stood.
“Look what you made me do, Paris.” Tears streaked Julia’s face. She raised the gun, then Alice said her name. She lowered the weapon.
“It hurts.” Alice sobbed on the floor.
I wanted to go to her, but even if it was safe, I’m not sure I could have. The dull throb in my shoulder turned into a creeping numbness. I didn’t even realize Roy was pulling me toward the elevator until the rug in the foyer bunched under my hip.
“Julia.” Alice rolled onto her back. “Julia, I’m scared.”
She knelt beside Alice. It was the first act of remorse I think I’d ever seen her commit.
Julia petted Alice’s cheek. “It’ll be okay. I’ll call the doctor, and we’ll make everything better.”
It was a lie. I knew it was a lie. If she did, the police would come, and she would have no explanation.
Roy reached for the elevator button. It dinged, and Julia turned.
We were at the right height for a chest or headshot, not moving, and no more than fifty feet separated us. Even with bad aim, she wouldn’t miss, and if she did, all she had to do was take a few steps. The elevator was only seconds away, but it would be long enough for her to clear the room and put the muzzle right to my head.
I think Roy knew too. He shielded me with his body as if he had some hope of stopping this. But he didn’t. No matter how much he wanted it. No matter how much he was willing to sacrifice.
Roy’s scent filled me, his warmth brought me comfort, and the vise of fear choking me fell away. I might die, but it would be in the arms of someone I loved.
A gift I’d never thought possible.
Alice screamed.
One high-pitched angry sound. It should have shattered glass. God knows it shattered all the colors in my mind. I don’t know when she grabbed the canvas blade. Somewhere between where she lay and where she fell. Or maybe it was right there all along.
She shoved herself upright and drove it into the side of Julia’s neck. The gun went off. The ringing sound in my ears swelled until it turned black. Until there was nothing left but the darkness.
“I love you.” I could only hope Roy heard me before it was too late.
Chapter Fifteen
They say when you’re about to die your life flashes before your eyes.
All I saw was the boy.
The sunlight split across the edges of falling leaves and made beautiful glowing threads as they turned.
His dark eyes watched me. Not with animosity or anger but with happiness.
Maybe even love.
I waited. Would he take me with him? With the way he looked at me, I was sure he wanted to.
He put his hand on his chest. “Lorenzo Martinez.”
I put my hand on my chest. “Paris Duvoe.”
Then Lorenzo pointed.
Roy stood with his hand out. Lorenzo nodded, and I took Roy’s hand. After that, Lorenzo was gone.
I was afraid his name was only a figment of my imagination. Or maybe a hallucination, like the rabbit.
But it wasn’t.
Lorenzo Martinez had been born on March 1st, 1985, a year before me. He and his mother had emigrated from Spain to join their father in the US. But he died six months after they arrived, and she had to take a job cleaning houses.
The track lighting forced the reds and yellows to the surface of the painting. They moved in fluid waves across the canvas, curling into wisps that trickled into blues and greens, broken by purple.
The rabbit perched its rump on my left foot.
“Comfortable?”
It cleaned its face.
I gave it a nudge, and it hopped a few feet and raised its head. Then without any warning, th
e rabbit darted around the partition the painting hung on.
I didn’t know the woman wearing the gaudy pearl necklace, but she took me by my hand as if we were old friends.
“It’s beautiful, Paris.”
I smiled because it was beautiful.
“I didn’t think anything could outdo your other paintings, but these…” She sighed. “I have no words.”
Neither did I.
“Is it true?”
“What?” I sipped my champagne.
“You know, what they say about how you paint these.”
I smiled around the edge of my glass. “What are they saying?”
The woman’s cheeks reddened. She leaned closer. “They say you roll around on the canvas while you’re…”
“While I’m what?”
The man with her said, “Danielle thinks you get those lovely shapes by having sex on a canvas smeared with paint.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Really?”
She dropped her gaze.
The man shook his head. “I told you. You need to quit reading that gossip magazine.” He pulled her away.
I’d gone to doing the initial layer in acrylic, then after it dried, adding the details in oil, but it could still be difficult to remove. Especially when you got it in some unreachable places like the crack of your ass.
I tilted my head. If I squinted, I could almost make out the shape of a hand and pair of knee prints. There were other less nameable shapes that might have been the heel or a cock. Who knows? I rarely paid much attention to what got rolled where.
What would Mrs. Gaudy Pearls say if she knew just how right she was? Better yet, what would her stuffy husband say?
“However you paint it, I think it’s pretty.” Alice held my hand. Every day I looked at her, I could hardly believe she was still here. But then I was amazed every day I was still here. I wouldn’t be if Roy hadn’t put himself between Julia and me.
By passing through his body, the bullet slowed enough that when it hit me in the chest it lodged in my sternum, never reaching my heart.
“How are you doing?” And Alice would know I meant in a way that didn’t mean today but every second, minute, hour, day.
Her smile softened. “Good.”
“And?”
“We talk. But he’s easy to talk to.”
Dr. Carmichael was easy to talk to. And when you couldn’t talk, he would sit there and let you cry.
“Did you decide whether or not you’re going to go see Alma?” Alice said.
“I don’t know.” I’d said the same thing when Alice asked me if I was going to talk to her on the phone.
I had no idea Carmichael had contacted Lorenzo’s mother. He told me when she asked to speak with me.
It had taken me a week to shore up the courage. Twice, I backed out, and Carmichael had to apologize to her. He tricked me into it the third time. He had her on speakerphone when I went into his office. She said hello, and my knees folded.
At least I landed on the chair. After that, I was a captive audience.
She did most of the talking. Actually, she did all of the talking. I just sat there and listened while she told me she wasn’t angry and never blamed me.
I’m not sure what was worse, the fear of being hated, or knowing I’d been loved by a total stranger who knew I’d suffered for loving her son and she’d been powerless to help me.
When she called the police with her concerns, they’d dismissed her complaint because she barely spoke English and couldn’t give them her address because she feared they would deport her.
I’d never left her thoughts, though.
She told me how she’d kept a scrapbook with clippings from art magazines. It sat on a shelf next to a photo album with Lorenzo’s pictures.
She wanted me to meet me for lunch. I still hadn’t given her an answer. Listening to her talk was one thing. Seeing her face to face?
I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t completely fall apart.
I kissed Alice’s knuckles. A man in a blue suit standing at the next painting over frowned at me.
“I think you have an admirer,” I said.
She looked, and the man went back to staring at the painting. “His name is Matthew.”
“You know him?”
She nodded. “He asked me out on a date last week.”
“Did you go?”
Her smile faltered.
“You should go.”
Alice squeezed my hand. “I don’t think I’m ready. I don’t think I’ll ever be ready.”
“Why not?”
“Because every time I even think about liking someone, I hear…I hear him saying that boys are dirty. I hear her too.”
“So what if we are?”
“But you’re not.”
I shrugged. “We might be.”
Alice bit her lip.
“But don’t worry, we clean up pretty good.”
Then she laughed. It was barely more than a giggle, but it was real. Like the happiness in her eyes when she looked at me. “So it will be all right? You won’t mind?”
“Alice, the only thing I don’t want is for you to be unhappy. If going out with Martin—”
“Matthew.”
“My mistake.” Accidentally on purpose, mistake. “If going out with him will make you happy, then go.”
“I’ll have to take a day off so I can get my hair done.”
“Balancing the checkbook can wait a few days.”
Alice laughed again, and her cheeks reddened. “It would only be a date. I wouldn’t be gone for a few days.”
“You might be surprised.”
Matthew continued staring at us, but Alice hadn’t noticed.
“I think he’s jealous.” I kissed her knuckles again, and his frown returned.
“Why, you’re my brother?”
“Does he know that?”
“I don’t know. He just moved here from California. This is the first showing he’s ever been to.”
“You know a lot about him.”
“We talk some.”
“Then go talk to him some more.”
Alice gave me one of those unsure looks. I used to think they were about her, because Julia always called her fragile. After a few weeks out of the hospital, when the media swarmed, the police were at our doorstep every morning, the lawyers right behind them, I’d learned her worried gaze was for me.
Would I be all right?
“I’ll be fine,” I said.
“I don’t want you to be by yourself.”
“I won’t.”
“You have a date?”
I smiled. “Absolutely.”
Alice kissed me on the cheek. “I’ll go talk to him. Then I’ll let you know when he wants to go out.”
I turned her around and gave her a little shove. Matthew went back to staring at the painting again. Alice stopped beside him, they exchanged words, then he glanced my way. The tension in his expression disappeared. He held out his arm to Alice, and she took it.
I’d never imagined the demons Alice carried with her. She’d loved Andrew. As an older brother, he’d doted on her to no end. Then Julia took him away because he was going to tell what Harrison was doing.
It wasn’t love that motivated her.
Their mother suspected Harrison of having something to do with Andrew’s disappearance. Alice said Julia overheard her talking about filing for divorce. Julia refused to get stuck with the woman who told them no, the woman who expected them to do chores, and required respect.
Julia was not going to live her life under a tyrant.
Then a few days before their mother was scheduled to go to the lawyer, she got sick. Then sicker. In less than two weeks, she was dead.
We’d never know how Julia poisoned her: food, drink, or some other way. But the forensic pathologist who’d looked into the case for Carmichael, was sure that’s exactly what happened.
Apparently, money motivated Julia at a very early age.
Even af
ter her death, the lawyers were still digging up accounts Julia had hidden. She’d had years to skim money, and the amounts she’d acquired were astronomical. A funny thing, greed. She’d kept me around to fill her pockets until I became too much of a liability, then she’d taken out an insurance policy on my life.
A bonus, I guess, for her sisterly duties.
None of this would have happened if Harrison had gotten caught. But Dr. Mason had been the one to order their mother’s blood work. He’d done the same for my mother.
Mason claimed he had no part in any of the killings, but he did help cover them up. He said his reasons were his own. It was unlikely he’d ever share what those reasons were, but the private detective, David, suspected it had something to do with the boy who’d hung himself.
Alice never knew any of those things, and she’d cried for days when she found out. Not because she was angry with Julia or even her father. She was angry at herself for ever believing Andrew had run away in the first place.
But everything would be all right. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but it would.
In truth, we’d be better than before. No more secrets. No more lies.
A husband and wife smiled at me. Beyond them was a small group of people. Farther over, a journalist from the local newspaper. Anna Joseph loved to take my picture.
Not for the paper, of course.
Next week her beautiful photography would be revealed to the public. The Lorenzo gallery wasn’t large, but it was fast become the jumping off point for many new artists and attracting the attention of several artistic celebrities. Anna’s first showing was to be hosted by Kristine Kline, author of the bestselling series Extraordinary Boy.
If Mrs. Gaudy Pearls came to the next showing, her question about my attire while I painted would be answered. Personally, I couldn’t wait to see the reactions.
Serena Haus, my new agent, was sure my paintings would go up in value.
Whether they did or didn’t made no difference to me. The only thing I cared about was creating beautiful colors.
“You look like you could use some company.” The man who spoke was not cut by money or political interest, and the Armani he wore accented his wide shoulders, his narrow waist, and made his dark skin golden.
His deep chuckle vibrated down my body. Rich golds, earthy browns, and streaks of blazing green followed.
Complementary Colors Page 36