Complementary Colors (44 page)

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, the 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 after 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.

The rabbit regarded us with one dark eye.

“Actually, I’m waiting on someone.”

“Really?” He moved closer. His rich scent was still spiced with sex and a hint of acrylic. “You sure he’s going to show up?”

“Of course.”

“So you have an evening planned?”

“He’s taking me to dinner.”

The man was slightly taller, but it was his presence that told me he was dangerous enough to kill me if he wanted. He rested his large hands on my hips and pressed his chest against my back. The thick line of his cock nestled against my ass.

“And where is he taking you?” His heated breath brushed the nape of my neck.

“A place.”

“Just a place?”

“A café, actually.”

“Sounds…boring.”

“Maybe a little. But the company is good, and the cheesecake is to die for.” I walked over to the painting a few partitions down and closer to the back of the gallery.

The man followed. “How about you ditch your date and come home with me instead?”

“And why would I do that?”

He stopped beside me.

One of the waiters came by and offered to take my empty glass. I thanked him, and he moved on.

The man herded me into an area of the gallery where the paintings ended and a luxurious curtain hid a door leading to the boiler room and storage area.

The rabbit hopped past me and burrowed under the edge of the curtain. Its body made a bump in the folds of blue.

I found myself cornered against the wall with the man’s strong arms boxing me in.

He brushed his lips against my neck. The heat of his tongue traced a line to my ear.

I shuddered. “You never did tell me.”

“What?”

“Why I should ditch my date and go home with you.”

“Do I need a reason?”

“Yes.”

He pushed his knee between my legs. I couldn’t stop myself from grinding into his thigh.

“There’s a room in the back. Come with me and let me convince you.”

“To go home with you?”

His expensive slacks barely held back his rock hard cock. “Yes.”

“What if he comes looking for me?” I buried my hands in his hair and tilted up my head.

“I take it he’s the jealous type.”

“Protective.”

He growled, and I was sure I’d come in my pants.

“I’m willing to take the chance.” He pushed aside the curtain. The door was right there, and of course, it was unlocked.

Harsh fluorescents replaced the track lighting. The door closed. Then there was a click of a lock. “Just in case,” he said.

It was my turn to laugh. “I thought it was worth the risk.”

“No need to make it easy on him.”

The man shoved me against the wall and assaulted my mouth. His tongue fought with mine in a battle of dominance.

One I lost as soon as he had his hands on my cock. “Oh, God.” I thrust into the tunnel of his fist.

“I’m going to fuck you.”

“You sure you don’t want me to fuck you instead?”

Fire ignited in his green eyes. “Not tonight. Tomorrow maybe.”

“You sound awfully sure you’ll wind up in my bed.”

“You know I will.” He spun me around. My pants landed in a puddle around my ankles.

A rustle of fabric was followed by the soft clink of a belt. Then the heated length of his cock was sliding between my legs.

“I could change my mind.”

“You won’t.” He pushed his cold slick fingers between my ass cheeks and rubbed my hole.

“So sure that you brought lubricant with you?” I glanced back.

His cheeks reddened. “Actually, I forgot the lubricant.”

“Then what are you using?” The cold turned into a pleasant burn.

The man in the Armani held up a tube of mint lip balm.

I bit my lip. “I hope that thing is full because you’re going to need it.”

“Brand new. Bought it in the gift shop.” Another glob brought ice into the burn.