Page 2 of The Amazing Date

My finger hovers for a split second before I tap the delete option. What’s done is done. I have less than a day to bring a new creative lead up to speed for two of my accounts. Life offers no time to dwell on the past. All we have is the next task, the next assignment, the next accomplishment to grab hold of. It’s a lesson that was forced on me, one necessary to pull myself out of the rabbit hole of depression I tripped down four years ago.

I close my eyes and allow myself one final cleansing breath and leave the conference room. I had hoped for a different outcome but knew this was a possibility. One I’ve planned for. Back to work. One more day.

This vacation can’t come soon enough.

Chapter 2

Roberto

“Keep up. My god, those office lunch buffets must be catching up with you,” I joke and peer over my shoulder at my struggling younger sister, Gabriella. We are racing down a rocky mountain running trail near the Griffith Observatory in Los Angeles.

“Dumbass,” she pants and leans over, her hands landing on her knees. Sweat drips from her forehead down to her dust-covered Nikes. “I told you a light jog. You know I have that competition starting in two days. You are wrecking my training plan.”

I laugh and hand her my water bottle. Hers had gone empty half a mile back. “My sister comes to LA to visit me for the first time in forever, and you expect me to take it easy on you? We used to run trails much tougher than this back in Puerto Rico. You’re losing it.”

She squeezes my bottle over the top of her head. The water runs through her jet-black ponytail, dripping down to the appreciative dry ground.

“Way to waste my water. It’s still two miles to the bottom.” I take a deep inhale, enjoying being the irritating older brother for a second. These moments are too few recently.

Her hands lower to her hips as she stares out to the valley. “Yeah, and only half a mile back to the top where we can catch a bus.” Her dark eyes flit up toward the top of the barren trail, the steep incline giving her pause. “When I researched the weather, it stated a high of only eighty-five. It must be damn near a hundred.”

“You must have looked at LA County. It’s always hotter here in the valley—remember, the city is built on a desert. You’d know that if you left your office sometime and experienced life firsthand.”

“Judgmental much, Roberto?” She nudges my shoulder and hands me back my water bottle. Her gaze locks on the trail ahead, and I can almost see the wheels turning in her head. I see the fight in her eye. It’s always there, a sight more spectacular than this panoramic view. “I guess I should thank you.”

“De nada. Porque?” I ask why.

“After running with you, it’s going to be a breeze running with Rylee.” She jogs past me with a slow gait, eyes focused on the trail. I pause to appreciate her strength.

“You guys have a strange way of relaxing,” I prod her, my tone filled with sarcasm. “Five cities in four days. Who in their right mind pays five thousand dollars to be tortured and calls it a vacation?”

I pick up the pace, knowing she’ll match my stride. “It’s not a vacation. It’s a competition. And first prize is a hundred thousand dollars. It’s enough to pay for law school.”

“And I’ve told you before to just go. I’ll help you out with the school loans.”

“And what? Derail your dreams for mine? I won’t do that. I know you’re saving to take time off and travel the world and draw. It’s all you’ve talked about ever since…” She pauses, immediately aware of her misstep. “I’m sorry,” she begins to apologize for the thousandth time. But it’s not her apology to make. “Rylee never meant…”

I raise my hand to put the subject to rest, a lie I’ve carried for several years still protecting Gabby from the truth. “Can we for once just spend time as a family without her name coming up?”

We run in silence for half a mile, anger fueling my pace, guilt hers. Our breathing is synchronized, and my body begins to relax. The memories of so many moments like this comfort me, me and my little sis out in nature alone, conquering the world. We’ve always been the perfect team.

Her phone buzzes, breaking our cadence. It’s a good place to stop as the next leg involves a challenging decline with jagged rocks. “Take it. I have to check in with my office.”

I step to her, handing her the water bottle, close enough to see Rylee’s name flash across her screen. I take a deep breath and whisper, “Tell Rylee I hope she misses her flight tomorrow.” Gabby pushes me away, giving me her shoulder, and strides away in search of shade.

I shake my head. Rylee is trouble, and it’s no accident I live three thousand miles away from her. She and I have a complicated history, one that ended in ruin. I pull my phone from my jogging belt. I have three missed called from my boss. I dial him. “Hey, Will, I just saw you called. What’s going on?”

Will Arenado heads up the portraits division of the largest art studio on the West Coast. “I’m here at the Wentworth estate for the delivery of their portrait, and I’m not pleased.” Will is in his midfifties, always uptight and stressed. He manages the division like a warehouse inventory club. Everything is about numbers and volume. “Where the hell are you?”

I ignore his question; my movements are my own. I deliver for my clients; the rest of their rules can go take a flying leap. “What’s the problem? That piece is perfect. I spent double the hours to get it right.”

“You went off book Roberto. Again. Roberto. This isn’t what the client signed up for. It’s supposed to be a simple, respectful portrait. One that future generations can appreciate. It needed to be stately, and dignified. This—this is none of that.”

The condescension drips off his disapproving tongue and rolls off my sweaty back. If I had an ounce of respect for his opinion, his words might carry weight, but this man believes paint-by-numbers portraits constitute art. “Does Mr. Wentworth have an issue with the portrait?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

“Not yet. I’m still at the estate debating whether to have the installation team remove it before he arrives.” His voice trembles with fear, and I can’t imagine living like that every day for a thirty-year career.

“Well, like you remind me every day, the customer is always right. If he has an issue with it, have him call me.”

---