Page 12 of Infamous Heart

“Date?” The tables had turned. “You’re handsome, but a date? I think you’ll need to buy me a drink before it’s a date.”

Somewhere, Alejandro cheered my attempts at being suave. “Okay, you caught me. Your portfolio is great, honestly it is. I’d have asked you out at the Beacon if my boss hadn’t threatened your boss minutes before.”

“Formerboss.” If we were going to be honest, might as well put it all on the table. “I stood up to my art director and got fired for it. Teach me to grow a backbone.”

“Vincent? That idiot? He might very well be the reason why Revelations dominates the market. You did the right thing.”

“It’s great to have morals, but they don’t pay the bills.”

He finished his whisky and held the glass up for the bartender. The man in the vest nodded and started another drink. Without delay, a waitress delivered the booze, swapping it out with the empty glass.

He pointed to mine. “Refill? Since I’m buying you a drink, after all.”

“Margarita, no salt. So, what is there to know about the mysterious Sebastian Taylor?”

“I’m an open book. What do you want to know?”

“Where’d you grow up?”

“Southland.” This tall, dark, handsome man came from the roughest part of Vanguard City. The tiny area south of the docks had a reputation for being dangerous. Back then, it was known as gang territory and not much had improved since.

“My grandparents were Italian immigrants. My Nonno knew people in the old country. You’d call them mobsters, but they were just trying to flee the Lon’eta Invasion. Those cybernetic aliens did a number on the country.” He took a sip as the waitress slid my margarita on the table. I quickly sipped it through the slender straw.

“We didn’t have money. We were always one bill away from being undone.”

It wasn’t the story itself, but how he told it. He broke eye contact as he described his grandfather and his work ethic. There was a sadness in voice, as if traveling down memory lane might be tougher than he let on.

“In fifth grade, we went to the Metropolitan Museum in New York. Some big company sponsored the poor kids. Have you been?” I nodded. “The painters could see past the world in front of them. There were some strange things, strange andamazingthings. I wanted to be like them and see more than drug deals happening on the corner of my street. So, imagine my parents’ surprise when I told them I wanted to be an artist.”

“It’s nothing but fame and fortune. I’ll have to invite you to my summer chalet.”

“But you know what?” he held up his glass in a salute. “I showed them. Poor scrawny kid from Southland is kind of a big deal these days. I haven’t looked back since. Southland can rot. I got out and plan on keeping it that way.”

“So, you never go back?” I asked. “Not even to see family? I’m sure having a living success story would be an inspiration.”

He chewed over the words. I had unknowingly pushed my way into dangerous territory. I didn’t try to understand the relationship he had with his birthplace, but I could tell it wasn’t a good one.

“I make my donations to the high school. They tried to do right by me, but never had the resources. They’ll have to make do without my presence. Can we switch topics?”

A slight bit aggressive, but who am I to judge? I held up my glass, toasting to his good fortune. “How did you wind up at—“

“No, no,” he protested. “It’s your turn. Mr. Smith, where are you from?”

“I grew up just outside of Portland, Maine. That’s about as exciting as that story gets.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. How’d you get from there to here?”

A woman in a fur coat walked by. She waited patiently for the host to assist her from her jacket before pulling out her chair and helping her get seated. I didn’t want to judge, and I especially didn’t want to balk at Sebastian, but I lived the bohemian lifestyle. I didn’t ask for anything in life, mostly because I tried to enjoy it as is.

“Loaded question. I won a few art contests in high school that put me on the radar of the New School in New York. When I applied, I received a scholarship and a work study package that I couldn’t resist. I technically have an art degree, but I didn’t see how to make money with it, so I took a few design courses and wound up in the corporate world.”

“Seems we both found our passion in New York. But why Vanguard City?”

I laughed at the question, reaching for my drink. I would need more tequila for this. “It’s embarrassing. It really is.”

“I still play with Legos.”

I spit the drink into the glass. “Wait, what?”

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