“Man, you’re grumpy.” Roman craned his neck to look at the clock on the nightstand. “What time is it?”
“Please tell me you didn’t call to ask for the time. It’s after midnight. Are you in a movie theater?”
“I’m in my room watching a movie. I doubt it’s one you’d like.” He shut it off.
“What do you want, Roman?”
You. The thought caught him by surprise. Thankfully, he hadn’t said it aloud. Oh, he could tell her what he wanted, but she was too far away to do anything about it, and she wouldn’t anyway.
“Are you all right?”
When had the sound of her voice started doing things to his body? “I think I had too much to drink tonight.”
“I can tell.”
“How?”
“You don’t sound like yourself.”
That sobered him. How did he sound? Vulnerable? Clearing his throat, he sat up and rubbed his face. “You didn’t call me with an update.”
“I told you I wouldn’t bother you unless it was necessary. It was a quiet day. There was no reason to call.”
What if he wanted to be bothered? “The mural is done.” He spoke carefully, not wanting to sound as drunk as he now realized he was. “Hector finished the protective coat tonight. He went home. He’s got a girlfriend.”
“I know.”
“You met her?” How often did she and Hector talk, and why should that annoy him?
“Not yet. He showed me her picture. She looks nice.”
Roman could hear Grace moving around and hoped she was making herself comfortable. He didn’t want to end the conversation yet.
“Congratulations on finishing the mural. I guess that’s why you’ve been celebrating.”
Celebrating? Was that what she thought? The longer she worked for him, the more he wanted to know about her. There was something about Grace Moore that had caught his attention right from day one. “Actually, I just felt like getting drunk in my room.” He realized how pathetic he sounded. What a loser! Just shut up, Roman, before you say something even more stupid.
“I’m sorry, Roman.”
“Sorry about what?”
“I don’t know. That you’re alone after you’ve finished something people are going to enjoy for years to come. You have every reason in the world to be happy and proud of what you’ve accomplished, and you’re not.” She didn’t say anything for a few seconds. “I’ve never known anyone who needed the Lord more than you do.”
“The Lord?”
“Jesus.”
Roman felt the energy seeping out of him, like air from a punctured tire. He thought of the sign in the Tenderloin, right across the street from the flat where he and his mother lived. “Jesus saves,” Roman said sardonically. “I used to sit in a window at night and ask Him to save my mother. He didn’t do squat.”
“Do you want to talk, Roman?”
He figured he’d already said too much. He knew he’d said more than he ever intended. Tapping End Call, he tossed the phone onto the nightstand.
GRACE, AGE 15
Grace started working at McDonald’s as soon as she was old enough to get a permit. She worked while friends came and went. They’d say hi, order hamburgers, fries, and sodas, and say bye. Or they’d sit at a table together, talking and laughing while she was busy behind the counter.
Salim Hadad, her supervisor, tried to schedule her for Sunday shifts. “I can’t, Mr. Hadad. I go to church with my aunt.” He said it was good a teenager took religion seriously, even if she was a Christian.
Mr. Hadad said she was his best worker. If she were older, he’d make her a manager. She never stood around idle, even at quiet times when no cars were in the drive-through, no customers at the counter. She washed tables, swept floors, cleaned grills, scoured the women’s bathroom, and restocked toilet paper and towels without being asked. She cleaned milk shake, soda, and coffee machines, refilled napkin and straw dispensers, anything to keep busy during her shift. Salim told her she could study, but she said her conscience wouldn’t allow it. “You’re not paying me to do my homework.”
Today Salim was rushing around, grumbling about a worker who hadn’t shown up. He grew more frustrated when two others couldn’t seem to do anything without bumping into each other. Grace remembered how overwhelmed she had felt the first few days until she caught on to the routine. She delivered a tray of Happy Meals to a lady with half a dozen girls in soccer uniforms. Filling drinks, she had the uncanny feeling of being watched.
When the woman and girls left, Grace stood ready to take the next order.
Patrick Moore stepped forward. Her stomach fluttered, and her heart picked up speed. He’d moved from Colorado at the beginning of the year and made the varsity football team. It wasn’t long before he became the star quarterback. Every girl in school had a crush on the blond, blue-eyed hunk with the ski-slope tan. Even the guys liked him. “Hi.” Patrick’s smile made her blush as he looked at her name tag. “Grace . . .” Stammering, she asked for his order. His smile broadened into a teasing grin, flushing her face hotter.
“Two Big Macs, two large fries, and a large soda. For here.”
Grace punched in the order. He gave her a twenty, and she made change. She put the food on a tray. Maybe he had a girl with him. She resisted the urge to see who it was. Lindsay? She was head cheerleader, and they’d been a couple for a while. Grace set the tray on the counter. Patrick seemed in no hurry to take it. “Nice to see you, Grace.”
She didn’t know what to say. He picked up the tray and took a step before turning around. “When do you get off?”
Her mind went blank for a moment. “Six.”
“I’ll give you a ride home.”
“I have a bike.”
“I have a bike rack.”
Patrick took a booth where he had a straight-shot view of her at the counter. Grace didn’t even notice an older gentleman standing in front of her until he spoke. “Ah, Cupid does his dirty work again.” He chuckled. “I’ll have a Whopper.”
She smiled. “You’ll have to go down the street to Burger King.”
Patrick Moore read a graphic novel while he waited. When Grace was ready to go, he took her backpack and carried it. She felt small walking beside him. He snapped her bike into a rack on his sea-mist Buick Regal. “Nice car.” Did he think her shallow for noticing?
“I’d rather have a Jeep Cherokee with a ski rack on top. This baby is three years old and has eighty thousand miles on it. My dad did a lot of traveling in his last job.” He opened the door for her. She slipped in and strapped on her seat belt. When he got into the driver’s seat, he looked at her. “My dad signed it over to me on my sixteenth birthday.”
“Nice present.”
“It’s got some kick.”
Patrick didn’t clench the steering wheel like Aunt Elizabeth. His hands were relaxed. He drove six blocks and gave her a sideways smile. “You’ll have to tell me where you live.”
If her face got any hotter, she’d set the car on fire. “I guess it is hard to read minds.” She gave directions rather than the address. She asked about Colorado. He shared his life story: born in Fort Collins, grew up in the Springs, loved to ski and snowboard; Fresno took getting used to after the Rocky Mountains. Fortunately, it was only a few hours’ drive to the coast. He wanted to learn how to surf. “What about you?”
What could she say that wouldn’t bore him? “Not much to tell. My parents died when I was seven. My aunt took me in. I go to school. I study. I work at McDonald’s. I go to church every Sunday. That’s my life.” She was far more interested in his. “Are you playing baseball this year?” She didn’t want to say she knew he’d played football and basketball, too.
“Yeah.” He laughed. “I love sports. Playing them and watching them.”
“Live games or TV?”
“Both.” He gave her a quick, smiling glance. “How about you?”
“I played soccer in grade school. I wasn’t very good at it.” She’d never had time to watch much television, and the last thing Aunt Elizabeth would be interested in was a sports program. “Turn right at the next intersection.”