“I’m not hiding. I’m disguising. I’m looking for someone who stole from me. Let’s just say what he stole was very valuable. And that man back at school, he was posing for the art class I’m taking. He was staring at me the whole time. He gives me the creeps, that’s all.” It wasn’t a total lie.
The way Kelton drilled those blue eyes of his into me—the same blue eyes that had hooked me from the moment we’d met back in the fifth grade—gave me a cold chill instead of the warm feeling I’d always gotten when he’d looked at me before. Maybe because I could never go back to the past. We’d been kids with a pipe dream—a dream of love, family, and happily ever after. But given what I’d been through, I knew nothing was forever.
“Is the person you’re searching for in college?” Dillon asked.
“Yes.” It was better to keep some information private until I could totally trust Dillon.
Terrance Malden, the trustee of my father’s estate, always bragged about his son Zach and how skilled and creative he was with a paintbrush. He’d shown me drawings Zach had painted, which hung in Terrance’s office. He’d also mentioned how Zach had been trying to get into Mr. Brewer’s art class at BU. So I’d enrolled, trying to get close to Zach to discover the whereabouts of his dad. But I hadn’t seen Zach in class.
“And this dude isn’t the one we left standing on the sidewalk?” He flicked his gaze from me to the road.
I huffed. “For the last time, no.” Surely, Dillon wasn’t afraid of Kelton.
“What are you going to do when you find him? Shoot him?” he said in a mocking tone.
I lifted a shoulder. “Maybe.”
3
Lizzie
The kitchen was a good size for an art gallery. It housed two side-by-side wine refrigerators, as well as two full-sized refrigerators. The room was also equipped with a stove, two ovens, two sinks, several cabinets, and a large dishwasher. If I wasn’t mistaken, the gallery had been a restaurant at one time.
I inhaled the light aroma of what smelled like chicken warming in the oven as I checked myself in a compact mirror. Since Dillon had figured out I was wearing a wig, I decided to put on dark-green eyeliner to highlight the light-green contacts followed by two coats of mascara, giving my eyes that smoky look. That way people would be drawn to my eyes and not my hair. I couldn’t risk being noticed by Terrance, who might be able to recognize me since he’d hung out with my dad at our house quite often. Until I could find him or chummy up to his son, I wanted to stay incognito. Then when the time was right, I would unveil the real me. Hopefully by then I would know where my money was and how to get it back. Satisfied, I dumped the mirror in my purse and rummaged around for my lipstick.
“What are you looking for?” my friend Peyton asked as she tied back her pinkish-blond hair into a ponytail.
“Lipstick,” I said as I continued to search my bag.
“You don’t need any. Your lips have a natural pink color to them, and I told you to go natural tonight. You’re prettier without the wig and contacts.”
“I like the color. Besides, it’s fun. Remember when we used to wear different color wigs and contacts every weekend?” We loved keeping the frat boys guessing our freshman year at the University of Miami, even going as far as changing our names.
“What do you mean when? My sorority sisters still do it for the BU frat parties.”
I laughed. “Unless I look hideous or ugly, what’s the harm?” I was wearing a white blouse and black pants. My red wig was short enough to frame my face, and my makeup was artfully done—not too much, not too little.
“I’m sorry. You look great. I guess I like your long, dark hair better.”
I did too. But until I got my money back, I was Emma with red hair and green eyes, and not Elizabeth or Lizzie with dark hair and blue-gray eyes, although Peyton had always called me Emma. Before our first frat party we came up with names. I’d always liked the name Emma, and since she’d said I reminded her of an Emma, the name stuck with her.
She donned an apron she’d removed from a cabinet. “Anyway, you okay with this art gig? I know it was last minute, but I promised my mom I would help out, and you said you need the money.”
I mainly took this gig when I learned that Mr. Brewer was showcasing his students’ artwork. It was my chance to get closer to Zach. And without my monthly deposits from Terrance, money was tight. “Yeah, it’s fine.” Since I hadn’t seen Zach in class, I wasn’t sure if he was or had been a student of Mr. Brewer’s or if he would even make an appearance that night. Either way, I had to find out. I spotted my lipstick.
“Did he have Kelton posing today?” Peyton asked excitedly.
My hands stilled around the lipstick.