Chapter 16: Day 15, The Mural House
“You’re going to make us late,” Barbara bitches, rushing me to her Land Rover. She has every intention of us arriving at The Mural House on time: seven o’clock sharp. Being late will make her look bad in front of her peers, the collection of artists, and the art gallery’s two other owners, Bill and Steven Dwyer. She’s a guest speaker this evening, leaving her schedule open to talk in front of the wealthy gatherers at seven-thirty sharp, defining the group of artists and their works.
“I’m usually late for everything,” I say, being wicked. One last pat and twist to my bangs angers her on my property’s front cobblestone, but I choose not to leave the bungalow looking like I just woke from a nap. There could be a very attractive lifeguard present at the sh
