Seven
7
Salem
Present Day
Stepping inside the gallery five minutes before my scheduled meeting, I was thankful for under-eye concealer and the coffee shop that was across the road from my hotel. Pausing, I glanced around and did another sniff. This place smelled fantastic. What was that scent? I scanned the area for a candle or diffuser of some sort, thinking it was highly unlikely for them to have either inside the gallery. A candle was a flame, and that was dangerous. The diffuser maybe…
The click of heels on the rather unique floor caught my attention. I studied the ground, trying to decide if that was scored concrete flooring or actual bricks that had an epoxy resin coating to make it look smooth. I couldn’t imagine a layer of coating could make bricks appear so slick though.
“Salem Murphy, I hope,” a bright and too-chipper-for-nine-in-the-morning voice said.
I lifted my gaze to see a tall, slim blonde woman with a pair of bright orange-rimmed glasses perched on her nose. Her hair was more golden than ash and cut short in a choppy, multilayered style. It fit the place. She oozed artistic in her appearance, unlike me.
“Yes,” I replied.
“Perfect. You’re punctual. That will be one out of four around here,” she said with a mock grimace. Stopping in front of me, she held out her hand. “I’m Marlana Newbury, administrator, manager, whatever you want to label me. You’ll find it’s a zoo and I’m the keeper. How was your flight?”
She talked fast and used her hands. Perhaps she could bottle some of that energy and pass it around. I needed a large dose. I wasn’t sure of her age, but she did look younger than me, but I wouldn’t say by much.
“Fine,” I replied.
But the evening had blown up in a way that meant I probably wouldn’t be taking this job.
“That’s a type of pen,” she quipped, then scrunched her nose as her eyes danced with amusement. “Sorry. Things just fly out of my mouth. It can get awkward sometimes. You’ve been warned,” she said, and then she held out her arms. “Welcome to The Urban Art Canvas. The owner, Kendrix Jett, opened it eleven years ago with the vision to present and display art that was funky, edgy, and appealing. You worked at a gallery in Boston?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
“Kendrix was more impressed with your résumé than the other two who had made his final cut,” she informed me. “I used this meeting as an excuse to have my favorite bakery cater breakfast this morning. The cupcakes are my weakness, so don’t judge. They can be a breakfast food too.”
My lips curled. It was literally impossible not to smile around this woman.
“I can get on board with that,” I agreed.
“Right? A cup of coffee with that sweet, creamy goodness,” she replied. “My office is up this way to the right. Kendrix’s office is on the second floor and takes up the majority of it. He isn’t here all the time though. It’s a surprise, here I am kinda thing with him.”
As I followed her and tried to keep up with her fast chatter, I kept looking for the cause of that luscious smell.
When she seemed to be taking a break from talking, I asked, “What is it I am smelling?”
She stopped and spun around to beam at me. “That’s a Kendrix thing. He has it pumped through the vents at the entrance. It’s amazing, right? I want to bathe in the stuff. It’s a blend of aloe, clover, patchouli, and melon. It’s got this sweet floral with a hint of spice mix that I can’t seem to re-create at my house. No matter how hard I try.
“Up here to the left is a hidden door. That funky street art mural isn’t on a wall. That is the door. You push it, then step inside a small space, where there is a normal door that requires a code. Every employee has one, and you press yours in, and then you are allowed access into the lounge. It’s really impressive, but I will save that for last. Just in case I need to add a little extra incentive.”
She continued to ramble on, and I found I was enjoying myself. Last night didn’t seem so bad anymore, and Miami was a big city. I didn’t have to go back to that bar. Eventually, the memory of seeing Rome again would fade—or at least become less painful.
I wasn’t sure if I was going to miss New England winters or not. Leaving the cool, air-conditioned building to the sunny, humid, mid-seventies outdoors in late January was different. When I’d boarded the plane yesterday morning, there had been a fresh three inches of snow overnight, and more was forecasted for this weekend. Here, it was expected to reach almost eighty degrees today.
I needed to find a store and buy some warm weather clothing for the rest of the day. My long sleeves and pants were going to be hot.
Walking down the three steps that led up to the entrance, I let out a sigh. Was I going to do this? I wasn’t officially hired yet, but I knew Marlana wanted me. Tomorrow, I was to return to meet Kendrix. He had to be the final call on things. This would be a massive change—and not just because of the weather.
Squinting against the bright sunshine, I decided that sunglasses were also on my list of things I needed to purchase this afternoon. That would be my first stop.
How many more minutes until my Uber got here? I was already hot.
“Boston winter finally get to you?” a familiar, deep voice asked.
I almost dropped my phone, where I’d been pulling up my Uber app. Sucking in a breath, I didn’t move.
How was he here? I’d just convinced myself that Miami was a big city and I’d never see Rome. I doubted he was here for the art.
Whatever the case, I had a second chance to salvage our meeting yesterday. I could appear more put together and aloof this time. Straightening my shoulders, I tossed back the hair over my shoulder, then turned around to face him. I’d never been more thankful for sunglasses than I was right now. Not having to look at Rome’s eyes helped. His bulging biceps—on display from the black short-sleeved shirt he was wearing under his leather vest—however, weren’t covered up. His arms had definitely tripled in size with age.
“Something like that,” I replied with a tight smile.
The corner of his mouth tugged up just barely. “Come on now, Salem. You can’t still be mad at me about something that happened when we were fucking kids.”
No, Rome, I’m still mad about you ripping out my heart and stomping on it. I’ve healed. But that doesn’t mean I have to like you.
“I’m not.” I didn’t elaborate.
He was quiet for a moment, and then he chuckled. It caused a tingling sensation to course through me. I wanted to curse at my stupid body. It needed to wake up and realize this man was not one to get excited over.
“You look exactly like I imagined. All prim and proper. Mom would have loved to see you all citied up.”
The mention of Vanna caused a pang in my chest. “You forgot old,” I replied bitterly. I couldn’t help it.
Another chuckle, and he tilted his head to the side, as if he were studying me. I couldn’t be sure what part of me he was studying with the glasses on though. It made me want to fidget.
“Did I hurt your feelings?” His tone was amused, not apologetic.
Rome had become a complete dick.
“No, Rome. You lost the power to hurt me a long time ago.”
His jaw tightened, although he wasn’t changing his expression. “See now, I’m struggling to believe you’re not still mad at me. You might have grown into a woman, but those eyes of yours are still real damn expressive, Angel Face,” he said, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and tapping one out.
Hearing him call me that name brought back a world of emotions I needed to keep locked up. Put away.
“Smoking will kill you,” I snapped, angry that he was doing something that could give him the disease his mother had died from.
She’d have been so disappointed in him.
“I figure something else will get me before it does,” he replied, then put it between his teeth before lighting it.
“That’s a solid, mature outlook,” I replied sarcastically.
He shrugged and took some of the smoke in, then replied, “Death comes for us all.”
My throat felt instantly thick. Death did come, but some of us didn’t help it out. Some got their lives taken too soon. Too young.
I took in a shaky breath.
“No rings today?” he asked, and I assumed his eyes were on my left hand.
I’d felt naked without them there this morning, but I’d forgotten after a while.
“Was the interview with a man?” His words sounded as cold as they were cruel. “You afraid that face of yours wouldn’t be enough to land the job, so you slipped off the rings to sweeten the pot?”
How was it this man could push me to the verge of tears in so little amount of time and very few words? Once, he’d have done anything to keep me from crying. Once, he’d have injured anyone who upset me. That was all history though. Our long-gone past.
A black sedan pulled up, and I glanced at the tag to make sure it matched the one on my Uber app. Seeing that it did, I said nothing more to him and hurried to the passenger door, jerking it open. There was no rule that stated I had to stand here and take that. He had no idea what he was talking about. And I would never have taken off my wedding bands when I had been married to get a man to do something for me or to get my way. Insinuating that I would was nasty and insulting.
Often, over the years, I had thought that perhaps the boy I had loved died that day with his mother. He’d never been the same. He had changed from that day forward. He’d cheated on me. Dropped me from his life as if he had never felt anything for me at all.
The Rome I had known and loved was no more. He’d been gone for a very long time. Left in his place was a barbaric biker named Tex.