More silence then I told him about the gallery.
Then he shouted, “What?”
I winced.
I heard him cover the mouthpiece and even though it was covered, I heard Ralphie’s shrill scream.
Buddy came back to me. “Ralphie, YoYo and me’ll meet you there.”
“See you soon,” I said and we disconnected.
I dressed in my Lucky jeans, a slimfit, long-sleeved, white t-shirt, the black belt with the rose buckle and motorcycle boots that Daisy, Roxie, Tod and Stevie gave me. I left my hair long to dry in crazy, natural waves and ringlets and did a half-assed pass with blusher, shadow and mascara (though, I spent more time on my lip gloss, you had to be careful with lip gloss, even when you were about to view your burned out building, if you didn’t you’d look like a clown).
Hector and I climbed into the Bronco and headed into town.
We hit LoDo and I saw Hector avoid the Nightingale garage which would be the perfect parking opportunity.
“You can park in the garage,” I told him as he navigated early morning downtown traffic.
His eyes came to me briefly then went back to the road.
“I’m thinkin’ you’ve scaled enough mountains for now, mamita,” he muttered and his casual kindness made that happy glow grow a smidgen wider.
He drove until he found a spot on the street three blocks from the gallery and he parallel parked.
Then Hector and I walked hand-in-hand toward the gallery.
As we approached, I saw the crowd forming a U in front of what was left of Art. Traffic had been diverted, there were barricades up in a wide arc in front of the gallery, the fire trucks and police cars were still there and people were standing around the barricades in the street.
Without apology, Hector shoved his way through the crowd to the barricades and walked right through.
A uniformed officer looked at him and gave him a chin lift. Hector and I walked into the opened area where firemen and police were milling about.
I stared at my building. The brick on the outside was blackened, the windows had shattered, the inside was blackened too and water was everywhere.
Hector walked us to Detective Marker who was standing watching us approach. We got close and stopped.
“Jimmy,” Hector said, dropping my hand but his arm slid around my shoulders and he pulled me into his side.
“Hector,” Detective Marker greeted then his eyes came to me. “Sadie.”
“Detective Marker,” I replied and looked back at my gallery.
My heart sunk at the same time my body sagged despondently into Hector’s side. In response, his arm curled around my neck and tightened.
“Donny Balducci’s a firebug,” Detective Marker remarked, his gaze never leaving the building.
“Yeah,” Hector agreed, his eyes also locked on what was left of Art.
My head tilted back to look at Hector.
His face was stony.
My gaze drifted to Detective Marker.
He looked a weird mixture of angry and resigned. In other words, he had what could only be called a Cop Look.
Then Hector started talking again.