“He was not worth your spit,” Artur said, voice low. “Do you know where he is now?”
“Rehab?” Grace honestly didn’t know. Gabriel Hu had been older than he was by three years, and following him around as he’d vandalized stores and bullied smaller children hadn’t been fun. But then Gabe would turn those inscrutable green eyes on Grace and say something sweet, and Grace would think, “He’s awful to everyone else. I must be special.”
Then Gabe had scored some junk and said, “Here, let me show you how it’s done!”
The next thing Grace remembered was waking up in the hospital, because the only good thing Gabriel had ever done for another soul was call Josh Salinger when Grace had begun to convulse.
Gabe had disappeared then—he’d been a rich kid, like Grace, and word had gotten around school that his parents had moved and put him in rehab. Grace hadn’t even gotten a text. But he had been moved out of his parents’ house and into the bedroom next to Josh’s even before he’d gotten out of the hospital.
“I would hope he was dead,” Artur said without pity, “but you would carry that death on your soul because you have a good heart, so I won’t. I will only wish that he never returns and that you will look at this handsome boy who is kind to you, and give him the time of day.”
“He’s, uh, he might be an assassin,” Grace said, not that this bothered him, but since Artur had been so honest, he felt compelled to say something.
To his surprise, Artur shrugged. “Is he an honorable one?”
Grace thought about it, thought about the way Hunter was kind to Stirling, gentle around Artur, and even smiled briefly at the people who’d brought them lunch. There was no gratuitous cruelty in Hunter.
“I doubt,” Grace said slowly, “he has ever killed someone who didn’t really deserve it.”
“Then that is fine,” Artur said, smiling. He patted Grace’s knee. “Be kind to him. I know you think you can care for yourself, but there’s no shame in letting someone else care for you when he means it.”
But why would he mean it? What can I possibly offer him? Why should he care for me when the people who gave birth to me couldn’t? What if I’m bad for him? What if I’m too stupid to care for him back?
All these questions and more pushed at his tongue, but he didn’t ask them. That would be too much like baring his soul, and who needed that bullshit anyway?
At that moment, his earbud clicked, and Hunter’s voice sounded. During the course of the day, Julia and Molly had tracked their two errand boys to a tour-guide company that featured small plane rides out of the marina. They hadn’t taken one, but they had talked to one of the guides for a few moments before leaving the building. Josh had stayed on watch while Julia and Molly had returned to change, and Hunter had joined them. Hunter and Josh’s job tonight was to see if maybe the package had been stashed on board one of the airplanes or in the hangar itself and then to follow it to where it landed.
“We found the package,” Hunter said. “It’s in a cargo plane headed for Seattle tomorrow. Josh and I are going to try to hop a ride with it. You all might want to book another night in the rooms if you can. Grace, Josh says you should go back with Artur.”
“No!” Grace burst out unhappily. “You just want to leave me out of the fun. My feet are fine.”
Hunter let out a long-suffering sigh. “It’s for his protection, you idiot. If we get busted tracking the package, someone might figure out that Artur gave up the game.”
Grace let out a little huff of displeasure. “I’ll talk to him,” he said, wondering how much he’d have to beg to get Artur to stay in Vancouver for one more day. “You guys be careful.”
“Enjoy the ballet,” Josh said—and because he was Josh and he loved drama and art and music, there wasn’t a trace of sarcasm in his voice.
“Yeah!” Hunter added. “Let us know how it is. This dance troupe is supposed to be fantastic!”
And Grace wanted to ask Hunter something stupid like “You follow the ballet!” because that hadn’t come out while they’d been together that day.
“I will,” he said weakly. “Keep us posted. We’re almost at the restaurant. Be safe.”
They signed off, and Grace looked to where Artur was regarding him with interest.
“They’re following the thing to Seattle tonight,” Grace said, not wanting to plead or to impose. “They said Julia might want to reserve their rooms for another night.”
Artur smiled gently. “Then I shall too. Have you ever been to Grouse Mountain or Capilano Park, my boy? It would be a shame to come to Vancouver and not see at least some of its attractions.”
Grace knew what kind of smiles he had—secret smiles and pert smiles and snarky smiles. Very rarely did he let a smile take over his face to the point that his cheeks appled and his vision narrowed, but he couldn’t help it.
“I would love to, Dance Master.”
“Well, then,” Artur said softly. “I shall make the reservation tonight.”
“That’s very kind,” Grace said, his smile still wide.
“You and your friends came all the way out here to help me,” Artur told him. “It is honestly the least I could do.”
DINNER WAS like the way rich people looked in the movies. Julia and Molly kept the banter sparkling, and all Artur and Grace had to do was listen to them, pour them wine, and laugh. They carpooled to the ballet, and everything else faded away.
Grace was pulled into the movement, the story, the music, and even though it wasn’t his feet on the stage, his heart was there, flying without wings, and love and beauty were possible, and he was caught in the whirlwind of what could be.
Afterward, as they walked to their hotel room, Julia on his arm and Molly talking to Artur about Tabby and how much they’d loved meeting her, Julia said softly, “You are uncharacteristically quiet.”
Grace glanced at her. “Was it hard?” he asked. “Having me in the house during high school?”
She frowned. “Not at all! Heavens, Grace. We were so happy Josh had a friend like you, someone who got him, who didn’t judge. Even before we knew that you knew about Danny, you were a delight. Why would you even ask?”
Grace shook his head, his thoughts on Romeo from the ballet and how the dancer who’d portrayed him had gray eyes and his hair up in a short tail and looked like he could heft a caber with his dick alone.
How, for his whole life, Grace had been hoping for someone with that sort of strength to hold him.
“Just assessing my pain-in-the-ass factor,” he said, trying to make her smile. But she didn’t.
“You were never a pain in the ass,” she said gravely. “You’ve always been a blessing in our house. Why would you worry about that now?”
Grace shrugged. “Now you know I’m a thief.”
She chuckled. “And now you know we’re con men.”
“I always knew that,” he said, perhaps unwisely, because her eyes widened. “Josh told me everything.”
“And yet,” she said, tapping pointedly on his arm with a nail tipped with ice-blue polish to match her dress, “even if you’ve ‘borrowed’ my jewelry, I know for fact that you’ve brought back every piece. You’ve never stolen the silver. We have several objets d’art just lying around the old trash pile, and you haven’t touched them. If you’re such a fantastic thief, why would that be?”