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“The chardonnay pairs well with the scallops,” Rafe tells me.
“I don’t usually get to eat seafood,” I say, “beyond frozen fish sticks or what you can get at the Long John Silver’s.”
“Long John Silver’s?”
“It’s a fast-food chain.”
Rafe studies me more closely. “You’re not very successful thieves.”
Again, I feel a little affronted. “We’re good at what we do. We’ve only botched one job out of hundreds. We just don’t steal unless we have to. Plus, I’d rather spend what we get on my mother’s medical expenses than on fancy seafood.”
I suddenly wonder if I’ve said too much. Should I not have mentioned my mother?
“Is your mother sick?” he asks.
I keep my answer short and hope he doesn’t pry any further. “She has lupus.”
“And you decided stealing is an easier way to help with her expenses?”
“It pays better than panhandling on the streets or working as a store clerk.”
“You couldn’t get a better job?”
A guy in crime is seriously asking me that? My reaction seems to amuse Rafe. The look in his eyes softens, and it almost make me melt. I decide to finish my champagne.
“It’s not easy getting hired when you have a record,” I reply.
“What’s your record?”
“Mine was a misdemeanor as a juvenile. Peter has a felony.”
“If you only had one offense as a minor, you probably could have gotten your charge expunged.”
I shrug. I don’t know much about how that works. “I couldn’t leave my brother to do it on his own. Plus, I guess there’s something cool in doing something you’re good at.”
“You get a high from a successful heist?”
“Kind of,” I admit. “Along with some guilt.”
Though I don’t know how guilty I’d feel robbing a guy like Rafe who can spend millions of dollars on a painting while there are starving kids in the world.
The scallops are followed by an asparagus bisque and yet another kind of wine.
“How did you come to know so much about art?” Rafe asks.
“I guess it started with a sketch we stole. A fence paid us four thousand dollars for it, so I’m guessing it was valued at more than that. I was fascinated that art could be worth so much. So I started reading about it. I’d visit the de Young or Legion of Honors on their free days. The Legion of Honors is where I saw my first Monet. I fell in love.”
It’s strange sharing this with a man who might have me killed, but talking makes me feel like there’s some kind of normal to my life right now.
“You ever been to a museum outside of San Francisco?”
I shake my head and ask him. “How did you become an art aficionado? It’s not a quality...”
He raises a brow and waits patiently for me to finish my sentence, which I don’t want to but I get the feeling he’ll make me.
“Are a lot of triad members art fans?” I rephrase.
That was an inane question. Judging by his expression, he must think the same. I consider asking another question about art, a safe subject, but it might benefit me to know more about Rafe’s criminal qualities.
