Chapter 14
Alyssa had so much to get done that afternoon. The city wanted the lobby of the waste management facility redone, and of course Stacey had assigned that to her. The lobby was to be clean and flow well and have durable furniture and look sharp, but also not look like taxpayer money was spent on it. Do a good job! But not too good. That was the message. When Stacey had given her the project, she had smiled sweetly and said, “It’ll be another line on your résumé!” As if she wanted “waste management” in her client list. And there was a final walk-through with the newly divorced guy who’d wanted someone to buy him a sofa, and …
“You have time to grab lunch?” Nick said, nodding toward the food court.
“Sure!” she said, then wondered if it sounded too bright.
They walked down to Kresge Court and got sandwiches. The dining area was dotted with seating arrangements of different sorts—varied furniture and sizes. Nick led them over to a sofa and set his plate down with a clink. Alyssa hesitated. Sitting beside him seemed inappropriate—despite that whole kissing-for-the-sake-of-the-bow-height thing—so she sat in the chair opposite, put her plate down, and swiveled her legs sideways.
“That’s not good for your knees,” Nick said, nodding toward her lady-folded legs.
“It’s likely to shorten my career?”
“Yep.”
“Maybe they’ll keep me for my locker-room decorating skills.”
He grinned and took a bite of his sandwich. They ate in silence for a moment, then Nick asked, “Why do you work for that woman?”
“Stacey?”
He nodded.
“She’s … well respected.”
“Not for her personality.”
“No. But it’s hard to start out on your own. I’m trying to build a client base, get some experience so I can say I have some, and then start my own firm.” She sighed. “It’s going to take a while.”
“Wait. You’re practicing on me?”
She grinned. “Sure am.”
“Huh.” He wiped his mouth and folded his napkin by his plate. “What if you don’t get exactly the right … I’m gonna say dining room table? I’ll be devastated.”
“Yeah, I could tell.”
Something crossed his face. He took a sip of water. “Um, I’ve been thinking about the apartment, though.” He fidgeted with the napkin. She stayed quiet and waited. “The bedroom, um …” He trailed off. Oh god, did he want a sex swing on the ceiling? What could possibly embarrass him and make him hedge like this? “You know how you made the bedroom dark in that first design?” She nodded. “I want it light.”
She took this in. “I thought you might have late games and want to sleep in some mornings.”
“Yeah, that’s true. But light is better.”
“Okay. Like a pale color on the wall? Or do you mean you want more delicate furniture, or …?”
He took another sip of water, rolled his lips, and blew air out tightly, and finally looked up at her. “If I wake up in the night, I need to know right away that I’m in a bedroom.” She blinked at him, not understanding. “Like immediately—not after I turn a light on.”
“Okay.”
“I need to know I’m not in wreckage. I can’t always tell at night. If I’ve been sleeping.”
“Oh my god, Nick.” What an idiot she was—giving him a dark blue bedroom. “Of course. Something homey and comforting?”
“It can have a cartoon bedspread for all I care, but I want to know that I’m in a bed. To see vague outlines of bedroom-shaped things.”
“Yet you’d pitch a tantrum if I gave you a Scooby-Doo bedspread,” she said, tapping her lips, trying to lighten the conversation.
He laughed. “No, Scooby’s okay. Before I was just covering my crush on Daphne. She’s pretty hot.” He waggled an eyebrow. “She was my dream woman in third grade.”
She started to laugh, but it turned strangled when she caught sight of the young man across the courtyard. He was heading their way but hadn’t spotted them yet. How in the actual hell?
Alyssa slumped down, trying to let Nick’s tall frame block her. Ryan was looking around—definitely searching for someone. For her. He stepped into the Ancient Middle East room and Alyssa thought, We should go now! and looked at her half-eaten sandwich. Nick had soup with his sandwich, and the bowl was still almost full. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy who’d walk away from his lunch. Actually, she wasn’t sure any guy would do that. How could she get him out of here before Ryan saw her? Because there was absolutely no possibility that he was here to enjoy some paintings.
He was bad news. He was her nemesis. He was her brother.
“Did you like the Gentileschi?” Nick said. She blinked at him. “Aw, come on, everybody likes Gentileschi.”
Ryan stepped out of the gallery and turned in a slow circle, headed toward Kresge Court—no, no—and brightened as he saw her.
Nick looked at her seriously. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to tell you what you should like.” She stared at him, confused. “You look upset. It’s fine if you didn’t like it. I just wanted to hear your thoughts about—”
“No, it’s not that,” she said, and then Ryan was behind Nick, beaming at her.
“Alyssa!” She wanted to die. He was going to embarrass her. He had never not embarrassed her. She’d be lucky if he didn’t dance naked on the steps before he left. “Hey, I’m glad I found you.”
“I’m having a private consultation, Ryan.”
Nick twisted to look back at her brother standing behind him.
“Yeah, I just need a couple of minutes,” Ryan said, stepping around to plop on the sofa beside Nick.
“This is inappropriate,” she hissed. It was her greatest insult.
He shrugged. “I’m in trouble.”
“When are you not in trouble?” she snapped.
Nick’s eyes widened fractionally, and he shifted on the sofa, turning so he could see Ryan better.
“Ouch, Lyssie. But seriously, I need help.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” Alyssa said. Was he going to ask to borrow money again? His custodial job didn’t pay much, but he also could manage his budget a lot better.
“I took a lunch hour. Possibly a long one.”
“Ryan!”
“You’re her … brother?” Nick said, finally putting the use of the nickname with the similar features. Ryan was tall, handsome, and utterly irresponsible.
“Yeah,” Ryan said, looking at him for the first time. “Shit. Shit. You’re Nick Sorensen.”
Nick smiled. “Nice to meet you.” He stuck out his hand. Ryan grasped it and pumped it and didn’t let it go. “You’re …?”
“Ryan Compton. Alyssa’s my big sister.” Ryan beamed. Nick extricated his hand. “So are you guys an item or something? You dating my sister?”
She would have to find a secluded place to bury the body. Maybe she could put a false wall in some project, because she was definitely going to kill him.
“She’s doing my apartment for me,” Nick said.
“Wow.” Ryan brightened even more. “I bet you have a cool place.”
Nick glanced up at Alyssa, amused. She was too frustrated to share the laughter in his eyes. “You like ducks?” he said.
“Ducks? Sure!” Ryan said. Nick’s mouth quirked.
“How did you find me?” Alyssa demanded.
“That mummy with lipstick at your office told me where you were.”
“Stacey? You talked to Stacey?”
“She said to tell you that your poop project won’t wait. I don’t know what that was supposed to mean.”
Alyssa reddened. She took a moment to be sure she kept her composure. “What do you need, Ryan? I’m at work. And you should be.”
“That’s the problem,” he said. “They want me to paint a mural on the cafeteria wall.”
“So do it.” She ripped a bite out of her sandwich and chewed it savagely.
“I sort of can’t.”
She finished chewing, swallowed, and then said, “Why is that, Ryan?”
He ran his hand through his hair. “I can’t draw.”
“So why do they want you to do a mural?”
“I might have told them I could when they hired me.” She opened her mouth, and he rushed on. “Lyss, I needed this job. They asked about it at the interview, and I thought sure, I’ll just supervise the art students. They’re going to color it in anyway. I’ll just tell them my vision and let them hash it out.”
She balled up her napkin in her hand. If she squeezed it any harder, it would turn into a diamond. “So why don’t you?”
“They want it outlined by the end of school tomorrow so the art club can start. Apparently it needs to be finished before some chess tournament.”
“Ryan, I have to work. I can’t go draw a mural on the cafeteria wall.”
“Please.” He looked desperate. But it was another situation he’d gotten himself into. Like hanging out with drug dealers because he was so damn amiable and got along with everyone. And then he got busted. If he hadn’t done time, he could have gotten a better job. He was smart but aimless. This mural was his problem, and he needed to solve it. Ryan dropped to his knees and folded his hands in front of her, beseeching. A few people around them stirred, looking over. Someone pulled out a camera, thinking it was a proposal.
“God, Ryan, get up,” Alyssa hissed.
“What’s the mural?” Nick asked.
“That’s the thing!” Ryan said. “It doesn’t matter. Just something related to the school.”
“What’s your mascot?”
“The Tigers.”
“Ah. Because Michigan is known as the home of jungle animals.” Nick glanced at Alyssa, and she tried to look as menacing as possible. “Your sister kind of scares me.”
“Welcome to the club.”
Nick grinned. “I have an hour this afternoon if you want to show me the wall. If you want some help. I need to know the size, if it’s cinderblock—”
“It is.”
Nick made a sound in his throat. “Doesn’t matter what you do if it’s on cinderblock. It’s not really going to look good.”
“I just need not to get fired.” Ryan studied Nick. “Do you … do you draw?”
Nick clapped him on the shoulder. “Yep.”
“He’s supposed to have the art students do it,” Alyssa said.
Nick shrugged. “I’m an art student.”
“You have a degree. That doesn’t count.”
“Nope. Never finished. I had one project left in one course.”
“Why’d you stop?” Ryan said.
Nick shrugged. Not something he discussed with random little brothers, apparently. “If you want, I can take a look at the project today. Pretty sure I can help you outline a tiger.”
“You are the best! Literally the best,” Ryan said. “I love you, man.” He reached over and hugged Nick, who smacked him once on the back. As he moved back, Ryan’s knee clipped Nick’s plate and knocked his soup bowl over.
“God, Ryan!” Alyssa said.
Ryan glanced down, saw that the soup hadn’t splashed on Nick’s legs, and stood. “So now’s good?”
“Sure,” Nick said, rescuing his soggy sandwich. He grabbed a napkin and wrapped it. “Can I eat this in your car?”
“You can do anything you want in my car, man,” Ryan said. “Nick Sorensen! Holy crap!”
Nick turned to Alyssa. “I’m going to go save a tigerless school. Thanks for taking me around this morning. I enjoyed looking with you.” She nodded, swiping furiously at his tray with a ball of napkins. “I got that.” He picked the tray up and returned it, stopping to lift a hand to her in farewell. Then Nick’s tall, athletic form moved off beside her brother’s familiar outline. This was a disaster.
“I liked the Gentileschi,” she whispered.