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The Masterpiece(52)

Author:Francine Rivers

“Is Grace tutoring you in English?”

Hector grinned and raised his brows. “No. I met a girl. On the beach. Muy bonita. She teach me English. I teach her Spanish.”

Roman could tell by Hector’s expression that the two had jumped over more than language barriers. “Sounds like a nice arrangement.”

Hector pulled out his phone and showed off a selfie. The girl, a plump, sunburned redhead, looked smitten with her Latino Romeo. Hector looked victorious with his arm around her.

He pocketed the phone. “Is Grace coming down?”

“Isn’t one girl enough?”

Hector laughed. “To see the mural, jefe.”

“I don’t know.” Roman wasn’t about to admit he’d invited her and she’d said no. He caught Hector looking at him and stared back. “What?”

Hector nodded toward the reception desk, where a man was pointing him out to a middle-aged couple.

Roman faced Hector. “Let’s go have dinner. I don’t feel like playing nice with strangers.”

They got a booth in a nice restaurant down the street. Hector spent most of the time texting with his girlfriend. Conversation had never been easy with Hector, but even a stilted conversation would have been nice. Whatever she said made Hector decide to head back to Los Angeles rather than spend the night at the five-star hotel in San Diego. Roman waved him off and sat alone and had a brandy.

It was a little after eight when he got back to his hotel suite. He stood at the windows, feeling adrift. Grace hadn’t called today. Good excuse to call her. He took out his phone and tapped her number.

It took five rings before her voice mail kicked in. She didn’t offer the usual pleasantries or give her name, just instructions to leave a message. She didn’t even say she’d get back to whoever called. Roman didn’t leave a message. It was a Friday night and well past five o’clock. Why should she answer?

The heaviness increased in his chest. Too much steak, too much alcohol. His jaw ached. A dentist said he must grind his teeth in his sleep and recommended a custom mouth guard. That and less stress in his life. He felt a little off, and not just because he’d had a few drinks.

Why should he be stressed? He had everything everyone else wanted.

Stretching out on his bed, he tried to sleep. He was edgy, in need of something. He could go back to his old habits. Go to a club, hook up with a girl. But the emptiness always came back later. The inner tension never went away.

He turned on the television and rented a movie violent enough to distract him. His arm ached from reaching up and doing the fine work every day for the last several days. He rubbed the muscles. Another drink might help. He opened the minibar and took out three shot bottles of Scotch.

Roman relaxed after the third drink. Only the heaviness remained. He called Grace again. She answered on the second ring. “What?” She sounded groggy and annoyed.

“Are you in bed?

She let out her breath sharply. “No. I’m singing in a karaoke bar. What do you think?”

“Man, you’re grumpy.” Roman craned his neck to look at the clock on the nightstand. “What time is it?”

“Please tell me you didn’t call to ask for the time. It’s after midnight. Are you in a movie theater?”

“I’m in my room watching a movie. I doubt it’s one you’d like.” He shut it off.

“What do you want, Roman?”

You. The thought caught him by surprise. Thankfully, he hadn’t said it aloud. Oh, he could tell her what he wanted, but she was too far away to do anything about it, and she wouldn’t anyway.

“Are you all right?”

When had the sound of her voice started doing things to his body? “I think I had too much to drink tonight.”

“I can tell.”

“How?”

“You don’t sound like yourself.”

That sobered him. How did he sound? Vulnerable? Clearing his throat, he sat up and rubbed his face. “You didn’t call me with an update.”

“I told you I wouldn’t bother you unless it was necessary. It was a quiet day. There was no reason to call.”

What if he wanted to be bothered? “The mural is done.” He spoke carefully, not wanting to sound as drunk as he now realized he was. “Hector finished the protective coat tonight. He went home. He’s got a girlfriend.”

“I know.”

“You met her?” How often did she and Hector talk, and why should that annoy him?

“Not yet. He showed me her picture. She looks nice.”

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