Gunnar looked stunned, something that I’d rarely seen in the fifteen years I’d known him. “Seriously? A trumped-up ID charge? That’s fucked up.”
“Tanya handled it, but I need you to tell Jag to look into that motherfucker.”
“You still don’t want to contact Vivi? Seems to me this might have something to do with that former governor from Florida she outed in a most spectacular way.” His grin turned scandalous and he rubbed his hands together. “It was a thing of beauty, but something that might have some blowback.”
“Yeah. You’re probably right. Don’t say anything to Jag about this, yet. I need to think.” I was on my feet and headed toward the door, keys in hand. I needed to think. A long fucking ride was just what I needed to clear my head and organize my thoughts.
After an hour of driving around the desert, occasionally hopping on the freeway to feel the wind against my skin, I found myself at a place I hadn’t been in twenty-seven months.
Lauren’s grave.
Chapter Eighteen
Moon
Being back at the shop was nice but that probably had more to do with the fact that I was on the gallery side, where the building was still normal. Pristine. Untouched by violence or the blood of my friend.
Being over here allowed me to enjoy stress-free time during the few hours each week I accepted walk-ins from artists. If I didn’t set a specific day and time, I’d never get to interact with customers who stopped in for art supplies and classes, which I surprisingly enjoyed more than this part lately.
Not that I didn’t love the local artists who brought me everything from oils and watercolors to sculptures and even painted gourds. I loved them and their passion for art, but the shop drew all walks of life. Hobbyists, aspiring artists, part-timers and students all showed up in my shop. It gave me an outside connection to the world that I needed. Appreciated. Relished.
As the final walk-in hours drew to a close, the chimes above the door sounded and I looked up just as Jana entered with Max behind her, several packages under his big biceps. “Hey guys, what are you doing here?”
Jana stepped up to the wide wooden table with a smile on her face as she rubbed her growing belly. “I figured I wouldn’t make you track me down this year, since you saved my life and all.”
“While I’m pretty sure that was the doctors, I’m glad you came in of your own free will today. You were giving me a complex,” I said as a joke. I knew we were both thinking about Jana from a few years back, so shy and insecure, always hiding the scar on her face that was barely even visible. I hounded her for weeks to be in my art show until she’d relented.
“And now I’m here to make up for it. Hopefully.” With a nod to Max, who placed three large paper-covered frames on the table, Jana began to unwrap each of them. “Let me know what you think,” she said, her voice shaky and quiet, like the Jana I’d met years ago.
But she did take a step back, giving me space to examine the paintings laid out before me. They were beautiful but different from her usual landscapes and still lifes. The colors were vibrant and emotional, the subjects all human. Her theme was there too, motherhood or maybe the journey of motherhood. Either way it shone through each painting, evoking a visceral reaction of longing and anticipation.
“Okay, when I said let me know, I kind of meant right now.” Jana’s nervous laugh sounded behind me, but I was too transfixed by the brush strokes, the colors and the always rounded belly just barely in the frame. The mother was always there, always watching but never quite part of the picture.
“It’s beautiful,” I told her honestly. “All of them are thought-provoking. Stunning.” Turning to Jana, I couldn’t help but smile. “I know I don’t have a right to be, but I am so proud of you Jana.”
She blushed prettily and swiped an errant tear from her eye. “Thanks Moon, that means the world to me.”
“Does this mean they’re all for the show?” There was more hope than question in my voice and Max snickered, feigning innocence when Jana glared at him.
“Yes, it’s for the show, and I’m leaving it all up to you. But now, I have something for you.”
I was learning that the Reckless Bastards might be big tough guys, but the women they loved were stronger. Tougher. Max picked up another package. This one wasn’t framed, and it was even larger than her paintings for the showing. Slowly and carefully I unrolled the cream drawing paper, revealing a variation on gladiator sandals, long legs and a tie-dye bodice. By the time I reached the top there was no mistaking who it was. Me. “As an Amazonian superhero?”
“Exactly what I said,” Max added proudly.
“It’s not a superhero or an Amazonian, Moon, it’s you. Just you.” She pointed to the hair, long black waves falling of the shoulders and she’d somehow managed to make the streaks of silver shine like diamonds through the sketch.
“I didn’t even know you sketched.”
“I don’t, which makes it a double gift for you. You get my first piece in a new medium, well more like my fifty-first but that part can stay our little secret.”
“I’ll take it to my grave,” I promised. “Seriously Jana, I’m honored. You really are a tremendous artist.”
“You should see me work a spreadsheet,” she joked, still not completely comfortable with praise.
“I have.” Max and I both laughed at the instant flush of her pale ivory skin, barely colored at all from the hot desert sun. “Client, remember?”
“Pregnancy brain, remember?”