Roman lost his appetite. He looked at Jasper and didn’t know what to say.
“Don’t bury me yet. I went into the hospital with a colon and came out with a semicolon.” Jasper’s grin died. “That was supposed to be a joke.”
“Ha-ha.”
Jasper rubbed his head. “My hair is growing back. That’s something.”
“All white.”
“I think I look distinguished. You’re not getting rid of me yet. The tests have been clear, and I’m feeling good.” He patted his stomach. “Looking good, too. I’m keeping the weight off and walking a couple of miles a day. Funny thing about cancer. It reminded me I’m mortal. It doesn’t make sense to put off the things I want to do.”
Jasper talked. Roman tried to listen. Troubled, he thought about death. He’d lost his mother and the only friends he’d ever cared about. It was safer not to care. Less painful.
“Bobby Ray Dean.”
The name jarred Roman. “No one has called me that in ages.”
“You’ve come a long way, son, but you still don’t know who you are or what you want, do you?”
“More.”
Jasper folded his arms on the table. “More of what?”
“Life. Meaning.” He wished he knew.
They went back to the Topanga Canyon house. Roman gave Jasper the grand tour. Jasper offered the paintings on easels a cursory look and made no comment. Roman could guess what he thought. Problem was, Roman agreed.
Jasper picked up one of the crumpled papers scattered across the studio floor and opened it. He picked up a few more. Roman knew what they were. Sketches of a gang kid in a leather jacket leaning against a graffiti-covered wall, a young boy looking out a bay window, a naked girl with her back to the viewer, her long hair curling down to her waist. “These are good, Roman. Ever think about doing a show?”
“I’ll probably do one this summer.”
Jasper glanced at the three unfinished paintings on easels. “You don’t have to limit yourself to modern art.”
“The pay is good.” Roman leaned against his drafting table. “I have no illusions. I took your advice and went to Europe. Remember? I’ve seen the masters. I even left a calling card at the Louvre.”
“Calling card?”
“Never mind.” The Bird had left a piece of work glued among the masters—a winking owl perched on a pine branch. He jerked his head toward the easels. “That’s the best I can do.”
“I doubt that.”
“Yeah, well, a lot of people out there like to think they know art. I figured out what sells.”
They headed downstairs. Roman opened a couple of sodas. Jasper looked around the living room with the huge black sectional couch, massive modern table, and big-screen television mounted on the wall. “It’s pretty Spartan, even for a bachelor.”
“Haven’t had time to decorate.”
“You need a wife.”
Roman gave a derisive laugh. “For what?”
“Companionship. Comfort. Have some children.”
“You aren’t married. You don’t have kids.”
“Cheryl and I were married for twenty-four years, the happiest of my life, before she died. We wanted to have children. It just never happened.” He smiled. “That’s why I’m so attached to you.”
“Bull.”
“I’d get married again, if I met the right woman. Up to now, no one comes close to the one I had.”
Roman thought of Grace Moore.
“Chet and Susan want to know when you’re coming home for a visit.”
The Mastersons had been the closest thing to family Bobby Ray Dean had ever known. “I’m sure they have a full house, just like they always did.”
“Fewer these days, and you were special.” When Roman didn’t say anything, Jasper changed the subject. “So, you gave up doing murals.”
“I’ve got one more. In San Diego. I found someone to do the fill work. I’ll be heading down soon to add in the details. Hector will apply the protective coat. Saves me a lot of time, and I can get on to other things.”
“Hector?”
Roman told the story. Dry of ideas and looking for any inspiration, he’d gone to a flea market to sketch vendors. He spotted a man painting ceramic pots. He was skilled, and he was quick. Roman found someone to translate and offered the man a part-time position doing the fill work on a mural project in Beverly Hills. Hector Espinoza agreed, and they shook on it. “He works for me whenever I need him. I don’t know what he does in the meantime.”