Page 49 of The Saint

“Your socks, sir.”

He glanced up at me, his own laughter joining in. “Right.” He reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a pair of dark socks. “Might want these.”

“He hasn’t changed a bit,” Carmen whispered behind her hand, though it was certainly loud enough for him to hear.

Lorenzo dropped one last kiss to Carmen’s lips, then one to my head, before he padded out of the room, barefoot like he was nearly anytime he was in his own home.

Carmen climbed back into her chair, and I into mine. We sipped our tea, listening as Lorenzo shuffled around out front and then left the house. I let out a heavy breath, one I felt like I’d been holding all morning.

“I wanted—” I started at the same time Carmen said, “We’d love—”

We both stopped. I smiled while Carmen laughed.

“Please, go ahead.”

I lifted my cup to my lips once more, taking a fortifying sip. “That picture. The one Rolly painted?”

“Of Paulo and Queenie?”

I bobbed my head, tracing my finger along the rim of my cup. “Did they like it?”

Carmen’s face lit up, and I could see her pride for her son in her eyes. “Everyone loved it. Queenie cried, and”—Carmen glanced around the room, as if trying to keep anyone from hearing—“don’t tell anyone, but I’m pretty sure Paulo shed a tear or two. It’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen.”

I nodded again, my stomach twisting, even as my lungs filled with a deep breath. “How much of Rolly’s artwork have you seen?”

She shook her head. “Not much. He’s always got that sketchbook with him, and I have seen some beautiful drawings in it when he doesn’t know I’m looking. But he just hasn't—” She winced like she was in pain. “I’m sorry. He just hasn't drawn or painted anything since you left.”

There was no stopping the grimace that rippled across my face. But hearing her words did make me feel justified in what I was about to do. I sat up straighter, squared my shoulders, and focused on her. “What if I told you you’re wrong?”

“What do you mean?”

“Rolly left his sketchbook at D’Angelo’s house the night I got my stars, and I went to his place to return it to him. It wasn’t like it was the day you came by. The entire place was full of drawings and paintings. He was working on one when I got there.”

“What happened to them?”

“He has an entire storage unit full of his artwork. He moved everything out; I imagine because he knew you’d be stopping by.”

Her face pinched, her eyes dropping to study the counter. She lifted her cup to take a sip, her eyes blinking too fast.

I hadn’t seen a single painting or picture since Rolly and I had started spending time together, though on the rare occasion we stopped by his place, the memory of his artwork was always there in my mind. And though being here, talking to Carmen about this, felt like a betrayal to Rolly, not doing so did too.

There was no way I could keep quiet any longer.

“I know you know people,” I told her, my voice low. “I know you could do something to help him. To prompt him to do something with his art. He’s too good not to be seen. His work shouldn’t be locked up in a storage unit where no one can ever see it.”

Carmen studied me, her dark eyes zipping back and forth between mine. For a moment, I thought maybe I was wrong. Maybe I shouldn’t have come, shouldn’t have tried to push this issue I’d begun to feel so strongly about.

Pick your battles, Jael.

But then she smiled, slow at first, just the corners peeking up. Then her eyes lit up as if they were dancing once more in the lights above the bar, her face breaking into a beautiful smile.

“Oh, Miss Jael. You are a wonderful, wonderful friend.” She grabbed my cheeks, pressing a quick kiss to my forehead. Then she was off her chair, rushing to the little desktop set into a nook in the wall on the far side of the room. “I have an old friend who owns an art gallery in Greenwich Village. I haven’t seen him in years, not since his wife passed away. But he used to do shows featuring different artists in his gallery.”

“You think he’d do that for Rolly?”

Carmen looked up from the address book she’d pulled from the drawer. “If what you say is true… If Rolly really does have paintings as good as the one of Paulo and Queenie stashed away somewhere, I know he would.”

A grin tugged at my lips, the weight in my chest lessening with every moment that passed. The twisting in my stomach had just gone away when the sound of dogs barking filled the air. When the back door swung open, a brown and white blur came racing into the kitchen.