Brush Strokes Read Free Page B

each subtle movement
caught the light just right, changing the pendant’s initial
appearance. In one motion, it looked orange. In another, silver.
And in another, almost rainbow-like. Magical.
    “ I’ll take this,” he said,
his eyes still fixated on the little bauble. Its minimalism drew
him in. He knew without a second thought it was something Tanya
would wear. He could already see its beauty around her
neck.
    “ Good taste,” the man said.
He gently withdrew the necklace from Joe’s grasp and headed back to
where they’d first started. The sound of an old-fashioned cash
register rang out immediately, as if he wanted to ring up the sale
before Joe had a chance to change his mind. In any other
circumstance, it might have been laughable.
    It couldn’t have taken him more than
three minutes to wrap the little thing in crepe paper that had seen
better days and call out the total purchase price, but those few
minutes were enough to make Joe doubt himself. Not so much himself,
but how Tanya would view the gift. She paid him more in an hour
than the item cost, so the amount had little to do with the growing
pit in his stomach when he thought about handing it over to
her.
    What was he after really? The thought
haunted him while withdrawing cash out of his wallet to pay for it
and during the walk to her apartment. He kept his hand in his
pocket, thumbing the bundle, almost as if stroking it for
luck.
    Before the massive wood
door of her place, he straightened, blew out a breath and rang the
bell. Time to up the ante. By hook or by crook, she’d know one way or the
other how he felt about her before the day was done.
    Still, his fingers grazed
the crepe paper. He realized he’d failed to come up with a proper
presentation. He couldn’t just hold it out, say
“ here ” and hope
that would suffice. If he’d wanted to do things appropriately, he
would have asked her out to dinner and maybe…
    His thoughts abruptly halted when the
door opened. As always, a cool breeze brought the odd aromatic
mixture of paint, mineral spirits and strangely, cotton, wafting
from the apartment. While he couldn’t exactly call it a comforting
smell, it never failed to remind him of her the moment it hit his
senses. This time though, some scent he didn’t recognize drifted
with it.
    When she appeared in the widening
crack, he swallowed hard, his throat tightening in a rush of want
so brazen, he had to force himself to remain still. Dressed in a
wife-beater and overalls, she epitomized simple living with a trace
of bohemia. Hair pulled back in a bushy ponytail stretched her
features into something even that much more exotic. Tanya’s eyes
widened in a flash of surprise, but almost as quickly took on a
distracted quality. “Wasn’t ‘specting you today,” she said, turning
away and leaving him stupefied in her wake. All he could do was
follow her lead as she ventured further inside.
    “ I should have called,” he
replied, starting to make his excuses. Three steps into the small
apartment he noticed she had a visitor. The elegant black man
dressed in a suit that must have cost more than Joe made in a month
sat cross-legged in one corner. His posh clothing and air of
superiority sent Joe’s hackles bristling almost immediately. “I’m
sorry, I didn’t realize you had company.”
    “ Uh, Joe, this is Mr.
Killian.”
    It bothered him like all hell that she
referred to her visitor as “mister” while Joe’s name sounded like
something she’d scraped off the bottom of her shoe. Mr. Killian
didn’t offer his hand and neither did Joe. What Mr. Killian did do,
however, was study Joe’s face with enough intensity to almost
compel him into taking a step or two back. “Joe, is it?”
    “ Joe Boyd.”
    “ The model.”
    That he posed it as a statement rather
than a question caught Joe’s attention. He narrowed his eyes.
“Yeah.”
    Mr. Killian looked toward Tanya. “Your
talent never fails to amaze me, young lady. I would have known