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“I went back to the gallery on Tuesday.”
“You did?”
“Yes. I wanted you to know that I bought one of your paintings.”
She put a hand to her chest. Had she completely misjudged this man? “Which one?”
“The one called, ‘Sunset’.”
“Oh, that’s one of my favorites. I had a troll friend take about a hundred pics last summer and I built the painting from there.”
“Well, it’s beautiful. I’ve hung it in my library.”
“I’m flattered.” And she was. Mastyr Keynes had a number of businesses in Cameron, and apparently a couple in nearby Shreveport as well. She didn’t know a lot about him, but he had strong connections to the States and did some major importing of Chinese porcelain. Maybe in the coming weeks, she’d learn more about his work. Maybe she’d discover that he liked to date women at all sorts of freakish times, like on a Thursday or even a Sunday. Wouldn’t that be original?
“So, I was wondering. Are you free Friday night?”
The question of the hour: was she free? Was it time to make some changes?
Much to her surprise, her decision came swiftly. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I am.”
“Would you like to join me for dinner?”
He’d named some oil colors and he’d bought one of her paintings. Her boyfriend of a full year had left the gallery without purchasing even one of her numbered prints.
“I think that would be lovely.”
“I was thinking of that Italian place on Central. How does that sound?”
“Wonderful.” And it did despite the fact that she’d never really valued Keynes before.
After settling the time, she hung up and once more pressed her hand to her chest. She had that full feeling again, the result apparently of having fed Yolen for an entire year.
Now, the tougher question. Just how was she to go about breaking up with Yolen? But after his completely indifferent attitude toward her since Saturday night, that question got answered almost as easily as she set her fingers to her phone and texted him: ‘I think we need a break. Talk to you in a couple of weeks. Take care of yourself.’
* * * * * * * * *
Yolen stared at the file that involved an arrest he’d made month ago. Keynes’s name had come up in the interview, very briefly.
Keynes again, which made him wonder. Keynes was a mastyr vampire, one of a group of disenfranchised mastyrs with more power than their counterparts and not a lot of places to use it. Was it possible Keynes, with his various business interests as a front, had a connection to Bergisson’s drug trade?
His phone dinged. He didn’t get a lot of texts and certainly not one from Brianna. When he read it, he scowled.
At first, the words didn’t even make sense and they absolutely refused to arrange themselves logically. What ‘break’? And she didn’t need to worry. He always took care of himself.
When he finally figured it out, he stood up and almost dropped his phone. What the hell?
Brianna thought they needed a break?
In other words, after all this time she was breaking up with him?
He still didn’t understand what the problem was. He’d made a huge concession and had gone to her exhibition against all his current convictions. What more did she want? And if it was a phone call now and then, he just didn’t see the point.
But something was clearly wrong and he wasn’t about to accept her text as the final word on anything.
Closing his office door, he called her, intent more than anything on telling her yet again that she was being ridiculous and that they’d talk everything out once and for all on Friday night.
However, much to his surprise, she didn’t answer her phone, which also made no sense. She was the one who wanted to talk, but now that he was calling her, she wasn’t picking up.
