for digging into details.
Wait. “Why are we on the highway?”
Roman checked over his shoulder and the rearview mirror as he merged into traffic. The lights from the car behind him reflected like a spotlight on his steel gray eyes. “I told you. We have an errand to run.”
“Which is?”
He paused as though considering whether or not to answer. “We’re visiting your father’s home. I want to see if there are any clues we might have missed.”
Two sentences. Five seconds at most to utter them. But in that span, every inch of her skin and her lungs felt as if they’d been smothered with a thick, choking sludge.
Why?
Roman was trying to help her dad. Her brother. She should be grateful for his efforts. Not dreading stepping foot in the place where they’d gone missing.
“So, what would you do?” Roman said. “You had brochures for a medical assistant program. Is that an interest?”
A diversion. That’s why he’d started asking all those questions. A mechanism to distract her from the task ahead of them. “I got the brochure, yeah, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized doctors’ offices mean lots and lots of cooties. And seriously...can you imagine me trying to have a bedside manner? They’d probably fire me before the first day was out.”
Roman smiled at that, but kept his eyes on the road. “Then what would you like to do?”
Hmm. Good question. She shrugged. “I don’t know. Something that makes money.”
He frowned. “Money is not the best driver for a career. Better to do something you enjoy. Something that comes naturally.”
She chuckled at that. “Not exactly a slew of things that fall on that list. At least none that make money.” She paused long enough to think of the things she’d done well on in high school. “Computers are all right, I guess. I had a knack for ’em before I left school and learned a lot of shit from Kevin I shouldn’t have, but I’m not willing to go there. I liked the creative stuff—English and art and stuff like that.”
He cocked his head slightly. “Like the pictures you had in your room.”
“Not pictures. Designs. For the jewelry I like to fool around with.”
“You make jewelry?”
“Yeah.” She wriggled her hand in the air so the beaded bracelets she’d worn that day jingled against the truck’s otherwise quiet interior. “Nothing big, but I like doing it. Gives my brain a break.”
“Then why not do that?”
Her scoff was short and full of irony. “Yeah, I thought the gist of this conversation was how to make money. I’m not going to be able to pay rent with beaded bracelets and cheap earrings.”
“Who says that’s all you’re capable of doing? Your designs were unique. You should learn how to do more.”
“Mmm hmm.” What else could she say? All she really knew were the skills she’d learned from her art teacher in high school, from craft supply vendors and what she’d figured out for herself. On some level, she accepted other people made a living out of designing and making jewelry, but she didn’t have a clue how a person went about getting to that point.
The more she sat with the idea, the more the need to fidget prodded her backside. “What about you?”
He glanced at her and raised an eyebrow in silent question.
“You said you’re an advocate of going with natural skills, so what exactly is it you do?”
The shift in his body was subtle, a tension creeping into his torso and a slight tightening of his hand on the wheel that she’d have missed if she hadn’t had her eyes glued to him. It took at least five seconds before he answered. “I help others who grew up like me. I manage what my vor asks me to.” His gaze slid to hers, and his voice rumbled with a sad finality. “And I handle tasks others won’t.”
Explanation wasn’t necessary. Hell, as sad as he’d sounded, she didn’t want an explanation. Even regretted diving into the topic. So, she steered things back to neutral territory. “What do you mean you help people? You mean, like a mentor?”
“Something like that.” He exited the highway.
Bonnie waited, hoping he’d add more. When he didn’t, she dug a little deeper. “How did you grow up?”
He kept his silence. Though, from the look on his face it was more for a lack of words or not knowing where to start than outright refusal. It took until he turned onto Louisa Street before he finally answered.