Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 74005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
“You make the cosmos feel intimate,” I say. “Like I’m not just looking at stars. I’m looking at memory.”
Juno meets my eyes. “That’s the idea.”
“I’m from Colombia too,” I say.
“Really?” Juno tilts her head. “You don’t have an accent.”
“I learned English from an American au pair when I was learning Spanish at the same time, so I picked up an American accent. You don’t have an accent either.”
“I continually work at it,” Juno says. “But I’ve been here since I was ten. I can even manage a Texas twang sometimes.”
I smile. “Hawk has a little Texas twang.”
She cocks her head. “Hawk?”
Crap. Why did I say that? Hawk’s twang is barely noticeable most of the time.
I guess he’s just on my mind.
“My brother,” Robin says, staring at me.
“Oh?”
“Yeah, he’s a big fan of your work. That’s how I got introduced to you.”
“Oh. How nice.”
“So do you have any relatives still in Colombia?” I ask, desperate to change the subject.
Juno raises an eyebrow. “Why does that matter?”
“Oh.” I think quickly. “Just…I miss home sometimes. I know what it’s like to have part of your life rooted somewhere else, and another part rooted here.”
“Yes,” Robin agrees, “and for me to get to the true nature of you as an artist, we’d like to know what you left behind in Colombia, even if it was long ago. And even if it wasn’t all pretty.”
She frowns. “Well, I’ll spare you any grisly details. But my grandparents lived there until a few years ago when they both passed away. My parents, of course, live here in Texas.”
“Anyone else still in Colombia?” Robin asks.
She clears her throat. “I have an uncle. He’s a senator in the legislature. He does a lot of work for the poor and lower class.”
Right. He’s a corrupt politician at best and a rapist at worst.
“Do you see him often?” I ask, willing my voice not to tremble.
“Yeah, actually. He has a place in Austin, and I just had a visit with him last week.”
My heart jumps.
The gifts. The cryptic messages.
They must be coming from Hernando Reyes. It all lines up.
“It’s wonderful that you still see him often.” Robin smiles.
Man, for a veterinarian, she is one hell of an actress.
“It is,” she agrees. “He always showers me with gifts while I’m here. Last time he got me this.” She shows us the Rolex on her wrist.
Which seems oddly out of place with her general demeanor.
“It’s beautiful,” Robin says.
“Thanks. It’s not my style, really, but Uncle Nando is so generous.”
“He is,” I say, fighting back nausea.
Robin rises. “I think we can call it a wrap,” she says. “Thank you so much, Juno. I’ll get this written up as soon as possible.”
“When will the article be published?” Juno asks.
“That’s up to my editor-in-chief,” she says, “but he was excited about the interview, so I’m sure it will be sooner rather than later. I have your email, so we’ll let you know when it goes live.”
Right.
Sooner rather than later for a publication that doesn’t exist. Juno will be waiting for that email for quite some time.
Oh well.
Once Juno is gone, my phone buzzes.
It’s Hawk.
I move away from Robin to where Vinnie has taken a seat with his laptop.
“Hawk?”
“Yeah, it’s me.” His voice is breathy.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I’m good. Where are you?”
“At this coffee shop with Vinnie and Robin in downtown Austin. It’s called Bean There, Done That.”
“Perfect,” Hawk says. “I’m not far from you. I’ll meet you there in ten minutes. We have to talk.”
13
HAWK
When I get to the coffee shop, I can’t believe my eyes.
Sitting outside on one of the benches is Juno Reyes, the artist I bought one of my favorite paintings from.
What is she doing here?
She looks up as I walk toward her.
“Hello,” I say. “I just want to tell you I love your work.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.” Then she rises and walks away.
Okay. That was weird. I tell her I’m a fan, and she walks away.
But I’ll have time later to dwell on that. Daniela and Robin are inside the coffee shop. I walk in.
“Hey,” I say. “I just met an artist that I like outside.”
“Juno Reyes?” Robin says. “Yeah, we were interviewing her.”
I drop my jaw. “Interviewing her?”
“Yeah.” She gulps. “She might be connected to what’s going on.”
Why the hell would Juno Reyes be involved—
Reyes. Same last name as the fucker from Daniela’s past. She mentioned it when I showed her the painting in my living room.
There’s no way.
I’m about to say as much to Daniela when I look at the way her eyes are narrowed at me.
Fuck.
Dani.
My God.
I haven’t apologized to her for how I acted yesterday. But I can’t do it in front of Vinnie and Robin. Later. She’ll understand. She has to.
I open the door to the shop. “Come on, let’s go outside where we won’t be overheard.”