When Roman started to get up, Susan reclaimed his attention. “Tell us about the Laguna Beach show.”
They must have heard about the event from Jasper. “The paintings sold.”
“Roman always was good with words.” Chet grinned at him. “Where are you and Grace heading tomorrow?”
“South.” He wasn’t ready to go home, but he’d promised Grace they’d be back by tomorrow so she’d have her son over the weekend.
Grace came to sit on the couch across from him. “Golden wants to commission Roman to paint a town mural.”
“Golden?” José laughed. “You’ll have to invent some history.”
Roman looked at Grace with fixed attention. No doubt, she had been getting an earful about his private life. He intended to learn more about hers. “We’re skipping Golden and going to Fresno.” She didn’t look happy with that announcement. He gave her a steely smile. “Grace hasn’t seen her aunt in a while. Seems an opportune time.”
Hands clenched, Grace sat on one of the twin beds and stared at the wall. She’d like to step through the hole Roman had painted and get away. Why was Roman so set on stopping in Fresno? Even if Grace called first thing in the morning, Aunt Elizabeth would see the short notice as a gross breach of etiquette. She stood when Roman came into the bedroom with her suitcase.
“I left your backpack in the car. I didn’t think you’d be up to studying this late at night.”
“You won’t get the same warm welcome in Fresno that we’ve received here.”
He put the suitcase on the dresser. “Why is that?”
“Just take my word for it.” She didn’t want to talk about Aunt Elizabeth. “You said you’d tell me about Sheila, Reaper, White Boy, and BRD.”
“BRD. Bobby Ray Dean. That’s the name on my birth certificate—that and my mother’s, Sheila Dean. No father named. Susan came up with the name Roman Velasco. Writers have pseudonyms. Why not painters? She was kidding.” He looked at the wall, a muscle jerking in his jaw. “I thought Roman Velasco would have a lot more class than Bobby Ray Dean ever could.”
“So Sheila is your mother.”
“Yes.”
“And Reaper and White Boy?”
“Boys I knew in the hood. One was shot dead at a party where I should’ve been. One died in a fall.”
Three names to honor the dead? Or did he see himself as dead, too? Did he feel guilty because he was alive and they weren’t? Grace felt close to tears. She understood the feeling.
“Why don’t you want to go to Fresno?”
He didn’t know he was opening old wounds. “My aunt took me in when my parents died. She did it to fulfill my mother’s wishes, not because she wanted me. You were welcomed into the Mastersons’ life. I wasn’t welcome in hers.”
“This was a business, and I was sent here by court order.”
“To start, but they love you like a son.”
“Your aunt is a blood relative.”
“Blood doesn’t always matter. I’ve had to make a family. Shanice, Nicole, Ashley, the Garcias.”
“Who are the Garcias?”
People she thought she could trust . . . and now wondered how hard she’d have to fight to reclaim her son. She felt the burn of tears and shook her head, looking away. She swallowed hard. “You shouldn’t stay in here.”
“I’ll leave when you tell me what you think about this piece.” He nodded toward the wall he’d painted.
“It looks like a prison break. What I’d like to know is why you’d want to run from love and go back where you had no hope.”
“I knew who and what I was in the streets.” His jaw tensed. “Tomorrow, I’m going to find out what you’re hiding.”
ROMAN STOWED THE BAGS in the trunk of his car, then observed the affectionate good-byes. Susan hugged Grace and whispered something that brought a smile to Grace’s face. Chet and Jasper had their turns. Roman had never been comfortable with physical affection, but this time he didn’t resist. Chet stood with him. “If you don’t stay in touch, we might just show up on your doorstep unannounced.”
“The door is always open.” Roman meant it.
Jasper looked smug, but didn’t gloat. “I’ll be down in a couple of weeks to see how things are going.” He looked at Grace.
Roman got the message. “You don’t have all the answers, old man.”