Melting into You

by Trentham, Laura

  The old man turned toward the door, and a knot of words tightened her chest. “Actually, Henry, there is something you can give me.”

  “What’s that?”

  “A little bit of your time. I’d like to do a portrait of you. If you don’t mind.”

  Henry ran a hand over his beard. “Me? I’m old and grizzled.”

  “I’m not looking for a male model. I want interesting. You have character to your face.”

  Jeremy, who had been hanging back, piped up with a husky laugh. “You can’t deny you’re a character, Henry.”

  Henry side-eyed Jeremy before turning back to her. “What on earth would you do with a picture of me?”

  She pulled in a big breath, gathering courage to put her idea into words for the first time. “I’d like to assemble portraits of Falcon residents and host a showing. In Falcon first, then maybe somewhere bigger.”

  Henry blinked as her request set in, but a smile stole slowly across his face, making his eyes twinkle. “I would be honored, Lilliana. Truly.”

  She rubbed her hands together. “Wonderful. I can come here while you’re working, if I won’t be too much of a distraction.”

  “You’ll be famous, old man.” Jeremy took two steps forward and clapped Henry on the shoulder.

  Lilliana narrowed her gaze on Jeremy. He was young, yet wasn’t. Not inside. If she could capture that on paper . . . “Actually, Jeremy, I would love to draw you as well.”

  Henry guffawed at the floored expression on Jeremy’s face. “You’d better come down soon if you want to sketch Jeremy. He’s moving on. Unless I can talk him out of it.”

  “Naw. It’s time for me to leave Falcon.” Jeremy stared at the window, but she wasn’t sure if he was looking at her work or his wavery reflection.

  “Where are you headed?” she asked.

  “Cottonbloom, Louisiana. My cousin already has a job lined up for me.”

  Lilliana knew his history dogged him and wouldn’t let him alone. “A fresh start is sometimes exactly what you need. Moving to New York was the best thing I ever did.”

  Jeremy’s attention swung to her, his blue eyes probing. “But you ended up right back where you started.”

  She had. In more ways than one, yet everything was also vastly different. “I’m a different person though. Plus, I returned by choice. You mind if I come down next week? I want to capture you on paper before you go. Something for us to remember you by.”

  “Not sure anyone in this town will miss me, but sure.” Jeremy’s enthusiasm sat on the negative end of the number line.

  “I’ll miss you, son.” Henry tossed an arm around the young man’s shoulders and squeezed. Surprisingly, Jeremy didn’t duck out and his lips curled into a small smile. “You come on down anytime, Lilliana, and we’ll both model for you.”

  Her fingers itched to sketch them right now—the old and the young, symbolic of the father and the son. They retreated into the store, and she gathered her things, her mind pinpointing other Falcon residents she could draw. Definitely all three elderly librarians. Preacher Higgs during a sermon? Her cousin Carl at work—minus the plumber’s crack.

  A local show at the Falcon Civic Center would be a good start. Depending on how things went, she could look into galleries in Birmingham or Atlanta. Baby steps toward her goal of headlining a show. While she worked on her portraits and her bravery, she would pursue the sports paintings. Jessica could help her set up a business plan and a website.

  Everything in her life was falling into place.

  Walking down the street with a tackle box full of her painting supplies, she kept her head down, her extremities numb after the long hours outside. Alabama in November could veer between frigid and balmy within a few hours. Although, the sun was bright and the sky impossibly blue, a cold northerly wind snaked down Main Street.

  Someone grabbed her arm. “Hey, you.”

  Alec’s voice warmed her from the inside out. She stopped and turned toward him, spotting Logan giving her a mocking salute from the other side of the street. “Hey yourself. How’s the game prep going?”

  “Not bad. Buses leave in an hour.”

  “You’re okay with me not coming?” Her aunt, Miss Jane, and Miss Constance were coming to the house for dinner and to watch the game on the public access station. Miss Jane didn’t even own a TV, and Hancock House would be more comfortable for them all. Anyway, she owed her aunt and Miss Jane big time for helping with her impromptu Sunday family brunch.

  “Of course. If we win, Dalt’s going to call a coaches meeting no matter how late we get home. I’ll probably crash at my place so I don’t wake you. Anyway, I need to maybe bring a few more clothes over now it’s getting cold.”

  “Why don’t you go on and bring everything?” Once again, her tongue outstripped her common sense.

  “Are you talking about moving in together?”

  “No! I mean . . . yes?” No way to sidestep exactly what she meant. His gaze bore into her as if trying to dig for the truth.

  “Okay. If you’re sure.” The words tiptoed out of his mouth.

  Was she? The frantic pounding of her heart emptied her head of blood and left her lightheaded. Her mind catalogued all the reasons this was a bad idea. Top on the list being they had admitted their feelings only a few days earlier and hadn’t discussed taking things further. But her impetuous offer had been a reflection of her heart, not her head. Did she trust her heart?

  “I’m sure,” she said in a stronger voice than she thought she possessed.

  “All right, I’ll text you tonight as I can and bring some stuff over tomorrow.”

  She nodded and slipped her hand inside his jacket to lay over his heart. “How’s Hunter? Still no word from Will?”

  “Nothing. He’s worried, but seems focused on winning. I think he finally understands how deep his brother’s shit has gotten. As long as he plays well, he’ll get a scholarship no matter if we win or lose, but winning might get him into a Division One school. That’d be huge.”

  “Don’t put so much pressure on him he’ll crack.”

  He covered her hand with his, lacing their fingers. “I won’t.”

  A whistle sounded on the other side of the street, and Logan shook two bags of takeout from The Diner.

  “You’d better go. Get us to the championship game.”

  In synchronicity, he leaned down while she rose on her tiptoes. Their mouths met in a blistering kiss. His arm came around her waist pulling her tight, her hand trapped between them. His lips deflected any worries about when and where they were.

  A wolf whistle brought them back to the cold, blustery day in the middle of the sidewalk on Main Street, Falcon.

  “I’m not going to hear the end of this from Logan.” Red stained Alec’s cheeks even though his smile showed no hint of regret.

  “You’d best get gone. We’ll talk later and I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  He chucked his chin and jogged across the street.

  In a daze, she slid into her sun-warmed SUV. She and Alec Grayson were moving in together. The dismay in her laugh was outweighed by sheer happiness. She drove home with thoughts on her—their—future.

  * * *

  After the Falcons won their game and Lilliana had seen the three ladies into their cars and waved them down the street, she retreated to her studio to work on the stadium picture for Ms. Elizabeth, too keyed up to sleep.

  Ghost reacted to the slight noise first, darting under the couch. Lilliana put her brush down and listened. The clock ticked in the hallway. The house was having its customary creaking conversation with the foundation. Nothing out of the ordinary.

  A scraping noise drifted up from downstairs.

  Alec. She skipped down the stairs, wiping her paint-stained fingers on her T-shirt. She pulled her ponytail holder out and shook her hair around her shoulders.

  “I didn’t think—”

  Words lodged in her throat, a smile stuck on her face as if someone had called “Freeze!�
�� Will Galloway stood in the middle of her dim living room, caught mid-riffle through one of the drawers in the antique bureau.

  “Where’s the silver or jewelry? Something I can hawk.” His deep voice echoed around her.

  The kitchen light was on and provided enough light to project her enormous shadow next to Will. She wished she were as dark and menacing in reality. She took a step back, the unfreezing of her body unlocking her tongue. “I know you’re in trouble, but stealing isn’t going to help.”

  He didn’t say anything, turning back to open drawers, searching the contents, and moving on. Papers littered the floor at his feet.

  “Anything of value outside of the antique furniture has long been sold for upkeep.” She flipped the floor light on.

  The light underscored the fear drawing Will’s mouth back and widening his eyes. His frantic movements spoke of desperation. He pulled a middle drawer completely out. Wood cracked against the floor. A musty, mothball smell permeated the air. He bent over to toss worthless, lacy doilies to the side.

  The matte-black handle of a gun stuck out of Will’s pants at the small of his back. Her knees liquefied. He straightened and kicked the drawer aside. The whoosh of her heartbeat dampened the curses Will uttered as each drawer proved to contain nothing of value.

  She stuck her hand in the back pocket of her jeans. Empty. Her phone lay next to her glass of turpentine. She’d checked it obsessively, hoping Alec would text or call after the game, but he hadn’t. She was trying not to let doubt filter through the sieve of her self-confidence. It had been a huge game, and he was busy.

  With her phone miles away upstairs, running straight out the front door to a neighbor’s house was her best hope. Will’s stalk across to her was sudden and startled her into immobility. The gun was pointed at her chest, the barrel wavering in his shaking hand.

  In a gesture straight from the movies, she raised her hands by her shoulders and shrank against the wall, seeking protection from something unable to give it. Her mouth dried and swallowing became a chore, the cogs of logical thought slowing.

  “I need money. Now.”

  “W-Why?”

  “I lost something and if I don’t pay up, they’re going to . . .” His eyes glimmered, but he pushed his face into his shoulder, and when he looked back at her, his eyes were hard and dry. “You must have money. Look at this place.” He waved the gun around the room, his movements jerky.

  “Exactly. Look at it. Everything goes right back into fixing something or fixing it up. Look, I don’t know what Hunter told you, but I’m not rich.”

  “He told me you have a sweet crib.” The boy’s Adam’s apple bobbed, and the gun dropped to his hip, pointed at the floor.

  Lilliana lowered her hands until they were flat against the wall, her palms slipping across the paneling. A hard knock on the front door reverberated like a gunshot. Lilliana half-crouched, instinctively trying to make herself smaller. The gun came back up in Will’s hand, this time directed at the door.

  “I know you’re in there, Will. Open up.” The door muffled Hunter’s voice. He jiggled the handle and knocked again.

  Will flipped the lock, and Hunter barreled through in a sweaty Falcon T-shirt. He must have come straight off the bus. “Where’s Miss Lilliana? I swear to God, Will—”

  “I’m fine, Hunter.” Her voice creaked with fear, belying her words, as she slid up the wall out of her crouch.

  “Put the gun away. You don’t want to accidently hurt anyone, do you?” Hunter put himself between her and his brother. Will’s head shook like a bobble toy, and he tucked the gun back into the waistband of his jeans. Hunter put a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “What’s going on, bro?”

  Will’s face crumpled, desperation and fear bursting through the aggression. Hunter put both arms around him, and Will returned the hug, burying his sobs in Hunter’s shoulder. Compassion seeped into her terror, not replacing it entirely, but tempering it.

  She should be running for her phone and calling the police. Only the look on Hunter’s face stopped her. “How about we all talk over some coffee?” She couldn’t believe the hostesslike words came out of her mouth.

  Hunter mouthed “Thank you” over Will’s head and led him into the kitchen.

  While the coffee perked, Lilliana retrieved her phone, tapping it against her chin. Still no return text or call from Alec. By the time the three of them sat at the table with cups of steaming coffee, Will’s sobs had reduced to hiccups. It was sobering to see the intimidating man-boy reduced to a wet mass of tears.

  “Will.” She waited until he looked up from staring into his cup. “Tell us everything. And, I mean all of it, or I can’t help. Otherwise, I’m calling my friend Rick on the police force.” She waved her phone. Will regarded it with as much terror as Lilliana had eyed his gun.

  “Why would you want to help me?” His chin wobbled, and another spear of sympathy weakened her resolve to call the police.

  Alec would have bowed up like territorial wild pig if he was there, but he wasn’t even returning her texts. Lilliana was soft, no doubt about that. She was the one always buying from the door-to-door solicitors and dropping money into the various buckets outside of the Walmart. Since the Galloways had landed on her doorstep, she would deal with the trouble as best she could.

  “I care about Hunter, and he cares about you,” she said simply.

  “You disappeared. I was afraid—” Hunter’s swallow was audible. “What happened?”

  “I lost a half-pound of meth. It wasn’t my fault though.” Although his voice was deep, it held a little-boy quality as if giving the lame excuse of the dog eating his homework to a teacher. Hunter’s mouth dropped open, and he shoved up from the table to pace.

  Lilliana looked back and forth between them. “What’s does this mean, exactly?”

  Hunter ignored her. “How the hell did you lose so much? Who is after you and for how much?”

  Will pulled at one of the twists of his hair. “I don’t what happened for sure, but I think one of the boys double-crossed me. Tried to tell Reggie, but he didn’t give a shit. He wants the half-pound or eight grand.”

  “What happens if you can’t pay?” Lilliana asked.

  Will held a clenched fist against his mouth, his eyes locking onto Hunter. “I don’t give a shit what happens to me. That’s the God’s honest truth. You believe me, don’t you?”

  A chill passed through her, and her voice veered high. “What’s happens if you can’t pay, Will?”

  “Now that Falcon has made state, everyone knows who Hunter is.”

  “He threatened to do something to Hunter if you don’t pay him?”

  A conversation-filled look passed between the twin brothers. Hunter mumbled a curse. “Break my throwing hand?”

  “For starters.”

  Hunter closed his eyes and rubbed the heels of his hands on his forehead. “Ma could sell her car. I could sell mine.”

  Will barked a humorless laugh. “Your car ain’t even worth a grand. I’ve raised half. I just need four grand, and we’ll be in the clear.”

  Lilliana’s mind whirled around the problem. Four thousand dollars. She had a check sitting upstairs for ten. The fact she was contemplating giving money to a known drug dealer was absurd and foolish.

  “What does ‘in the clear’ mean?”

  Both boys stared at her. Will blew out a slow breath. “He’ll quit hassling my family.”

  “Until the next time, you mean. Will you keep on selling?”

  “What else I got?”

  Hunter slid back into his chair, his eyes huge and unblinking. “Miss Lilliana, I know you don’t got that kind of cash. It’s why Coach Grayson bought the tile.”

  She sucked in a breath. Alec had told her the tile had been free. A perk of his job. Just like Alec to downplay his thoughtful gesture. She glanced at the blank screen of her phone.

  “You’re still seventeen. You’d be charged as a minor,” she said slowly.

  W
ill shot up, both hands flat on the table. The chair rocked backward and tipped over. “No way am I going to prison. Give me the money to pay Reggie, and I’ll stay clean. I promise,” he said with equal parts panic and desperation and sincerity.

  She couldn’t count on a drug dealer promising her he’d go straight. Even though she truly believed he wanted to keep Hunter safe, he would revert to old ways as soon as his life stabilized.

  “I know people in this town, Will. One of my third cousins is a county judge. I’ve known Rick Jackson down at the police station since I was little. Coach Wilde hit a rough spot when he was your age and got sent to a wilderness rehabilitation camp instead of jail.”

  Hunter righted Will’s chair and pushed him down with a hand on his shoulder. “It might be good to get out of town if Miss Lilliana could talk a judge into a camp.”

  Will’s gaze darted over the top of the table, his hands tucked between his legs. “I don’t want to miss your big game.”

  “My game isn’t as important as your life, bro.” Another silent conversation passed between the brothers. Finally, Hunter asked, “When is Reggie coming for his money?”

  “Tomorrow night.” Will transferred his gaze to her. “You really have that much cash?”

  “Normally, I wouldn’t, but I got paid for a portrait this week.”

  “Miss Lilliana, not Edwin,” Hunter murmured.

  “They’ll be other paintings, other commissions. There’s only one you.” She grabbed his hand and gave it a quick squeeze.

  The corner of Hunter’s mouth drew back, and he looked off to the side, fingering the peeling wallpaper with his free hand. He returned the squeeze before pulling his hand to his lap.

  Will dropped his head to both hands. “No way is this going to work. If the cops know I owe Reggie eight grand, they’ll charge me with selling and bump me to adult court.”

  “But, you’re only seventeen,” Lilliana said.

  Will threw himself back in the chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “You don’t know shit about how the system works for black men. It’s not the same for white folks.”

  She’d read and heard enough to know he was probably right. “Okay. How about I handle the payoff to Reggie? We keep that off the radar. Tomorrow I’ll see about cashing my check.”