Page 67 of Painting Her Fate

Better yet, do I? Maybe – eventually – I could see it happen with Lili.

My marriage to my bar comes first though. Lili will have to be nothing more than a mistress to me.

Yeah, keep telling yourself that.

I sit there staring at Lili’s bag on the passenger seat, contemplating examining its contents.

Don’t do it Zander. Invading her privacy cannot be taken back once done. She will never forgive you if she found out.

My military instincts have me itching to find out more. I get the feeling she is hiding much about her past, too much for a normal citizen. Then again, she may just be a private person; normal civilians can live secluded lives.

She is a millionaire, Zander; how private can they honestly be?

Making a split decision, one I pray doesn’t end up biting me in the ass, I ignore the chill of nerves slithering through me and unzip her bag.

Trust your gut Zander. Lili might forgive you, after a hell of a lot of groveling.

Inside I find a sketchbook, small pouch of pencils and a sharpener, her iPad, and papers from Blake for his school project. I start with her iPad discovering no password protection on it; just slide to unlock.

Well, she can’t be that private if she doesn’t have it secured.

After a moment’s hesitation, I click through a few folders, not finding much other than a couple pictures of Lili with a tall African American woman I now know to be Tamara, and an older woman with similar features to Lili; this must be her grandmother.

More than a handful of these pictures Tamara is kissing Lili’s cheek.

Could they be more than friends? Kinda fucking hot if you ask me.I’m open to further possibilities.I, like most men out there, have the fantasy of a threesome. I wouldn’t say no.

Focus Zander, you’re getting off topic.

Right. Back at the iPad, the biggest folder labelled ‘Gallery’had art of all forms. Many were depicted on walls in galleries ready to be sold, or perfectly placed inside the buyer’s bedrooms, mantles, and foyers.

Holy shit. She made all these?

They’re so realistic, as if I could walk right into them, smell the flowers, feel the rough edges of brick and stone, walk down the sidewalk and step into the shops, ride the boat sailing along the water, and walk with her hand and hand along the bridge as we watched the sun set beyond.

Wow, Blake was right. This girl is way out of my league.

Nothing is popping out at me telling me she holds any dark secret.

So far.

I close out of everything then take out her weathered sketchbook. Guilt crept in as I stare at her name written in an eloquent flowing cursive across the cover.L.J. Hayes.This is the way she signs her work. I trace the pad of my thumb across the ‘J’ of her middle name, wondering what it stands for, and deliberating if I should do this. There is no turning back once the cover is flipped.

How would you feel if someone went through your poetry and song journals?

I groan at the thought. I’d go on a rampage in search of whomever read them, then I would make sure they’d never do it again. My writings are my most concealed thoughts and feelings.Not even my family have access to my poetry unless I share it with them, which I have not done so since high school.

Then how is Lili’s situation any different from yours?

Put it down and leave well enough alone. Let her come to you if she so wishes.

I’m not going to stop as much as my head disagrees. Instincts are screaming at me to dig deeper, find the reason why she’s closed off, who caused those scars she bears, and where the bastard might be, so I can kill them myself.

Protect herrings through my mind, again, and again, unable to be turned off.

Is this possession, or insanity knocking?

Whatever it is I’m already this far in, I can’t stop now.

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