“Hey buddy!” A deep chuckled passed his lips. “It’s good to see you!”
O.M.G. No.I was going to have to move now, wasn’t I?
“Is this where you live?” he went on. “Is your human here too?”
Bill was barking and snapping his jaw as though he could understand him, despite my windows being soundproof.
“I’d knock and say hi, but I’ve got somewhere to be. Maybe later, okay?” he promised.
For the sake of my sanity,please,no.
“I’ll see you then, Bud!” He waved at my dog, crossing in front of my stoop and off camera. It appeared he was heading somewhere uptown.
I turned the doorbell camera off and leaned my hip against the counter for support, taking a few deep breaths and reaching for my purse. It was a huge purse, a bit of a security blanket; I didn’t go anywhere without it.
Digging through, I found my emergency bottle of medication. It was a low-dose beta blocker and would help slow my heart and manage the physical reactions of panic during the show tonight. Luckily, it would also work to calm me now, too. I took one, followed by a few sips of cool water from the fridge. I exhaled and waited, cemented in place for another half hour until my body cooled and my muscles released. The medication had kicked in.
I could breathe again.
It was moments like this that proved my misplaced existence. I was an adult, and despite minor improvements over the years, I worried this would never give. What good was I to anyone?
I tried to bury the thought, but it lingered, unbidden.
My phone dinged, notifying me that my driver was nearing.
Bill, who hadn’t left the window since his new BFF walked by, was little help to me—some service dog he was.
Taking one last fortifying breath, I gathered up my giant bag and slung it over my shoulder. I closed my eyes, reminding myself that I was nobody, no one would notice me—I wassafe.It was just a job, and it would soon be overfor another six months.
CHAPTER 9
Nash
I arrived at the venue a little early, shooting off a quick text to Bee.
Me:Are you here yet?
Bee:Look left. ??
Doing as I was told, I looked up to see her several feet away. She was in a massive line that stretched well around the block. With her arm raised, she beckoned me in her direction. Parting the mingling crowd, I made my way toward her.
She dressed similarly to me, in charcoal colors, with her dark hair down and loose. She had her nails painted black, not the usual hot pink. I figured it was for the occasion.
The crowd I pushed through wasunprecedented. The timing of this pop-up was an unplanned coincidence that quickly created a media storm in the art world. I couldn’t have wished for a better turn out.
Several groups I passed were discussing the stolenBlue. It had created a sensation and was achieving the desired effect. Perhaps soon, PERL would finally show their face.
I reached Bee just as a vendor passed, offering freshly baked cookies. Savvy local businesses, food trucks and vendors were taking advantage of this moment. It was smart. I would have done the same.
I gave the vendor a declining gesture as they hurried on to the group behind us.
Gazing down at my phone, I was already scanning the tagged images of the event on social media.
“So,” keeping my eyes on the screen. “Anything yet?”
Bee laughed. “Inthiscrowd? We have our work cut out for us. Half of New York is here. I saw Henry Barns with his group of followers earlier, eating up the publicity over his stolen piece.”
I smirked. “Told you so.”
