Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 74005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
“Not surprising,” George says.
“All I know is that he worked as a personal assistant to Austin Bellamy, the big billionaire rancher, my boss.” I lean in. “Did Ted ever say anything to you about Austin Bellamy?”
George and Hank both shrug.
“Hank and I weren’t overly close to Ted,” George says. “I was always more of a man’s man, fishing all the time, playing all sorts of sports. Ted was more into board games and long talks.”
I nod.
So far, nothing I don’t already know.
“And you?” I ask Hank.
He shrugs. “I didn’t hang out with him much, either. I mean, he was my brother and I love him, but I was quite a bit younger. And Ted… How well did you know him?”
“Pretty well, I think.”
“Then you know he was gay.”
I keep my eyebrows from flying off my head.
“Sure,” I say.
But no, I didn’t know he was gay.
My father said that Ted might’ve raped my mother and my sisters if he hadn’t killed him.
I know rape isn’t a sexual thing, but Ted was a very gentle person. And if he was gay, he probably wouldn’t have been interested in raping women. And he certainly never laid a finger on me or any of my brothers.
I never felt unsafe with him. In fact, I felt very safe with him. Safer than I did with my own parents. He was never inappropriate with me. He was a surrogate big brother, even kind of a father figure.
My father must’ve severely misunderstood Ted’s intentions…
Or there’s something more to the story.
“So what else about Ted? Was he in a relationship?”
“Not that we knew of, at least not at the time of his death,” George says. “He had an on-again, off-again relationship with a guy from college, but I think they were off at the time he was killed.”
“College,” I say. “He and I never talked about that. Where did he go to school?”
“He studied English and math at Texas Christian University,” Hank says. “Then he went abroad and did some volunteer work for a couple years after he graduated. When he came back to the US, he freelanced, mostly personal assistant stuff until he landed the Bellamy gig.”
“Right,” I say.
“He was good at that kind of stuff. Ted was always really organized,” Hank says.
“Where did he go when he was volunteering abroad?” I ask, raising my cup of coffee to my lips.
“He was all over. He spent some time in Togo, Africa, and then in Mongolia. But then for the last year he focused on South America. Specifically Colombia.”
Colombia?
This is all a little too eerie.
But I keep my eyes focused, my demeanor normal. I sip the coffee.
“Colombia. Really? Do you know what he did there?”
George shakes his head. “Nope. Ted didn’t talk about his time there.”
12
DANIELA
Bean There, Done That.
The name is ridiculous but weirdly perfect for a coffee shop. I follow Vinnie and Robin inside, expecting it to feel like every other chain café I’ve ever been in.
It’s not.
The smell hits first—fresh espresso, something spiced, maybe cinnamon or clove—and then the sound. The place hums, but not in a frantic kind of way. It’s warm. Lived in.
The walls are exposed brick, and the furniture is a mismatched mess of vintage leather, mid-century knockoffs, and one velvet armchair.
The menu is scribbled across a giant chalkboard in at least three different styles of handwriting. One corner reads, “Drink of the Week: Cardamom Honey Flat White (Yes, it’s weird. Try it anyway).”
We spot Juno right away. She looks just like her photo on the website—electric green highlights in her black hair, and she wears a crop top, fishnet leggings, and combat boots. Her eyes are buried under black eyeliner, and her lips are purple. Not soft violet or plum. Purple.
I checked out her paintings last night.
I only meant to scroll for a few minutes—just a quick glance through her website, a couple posts on Instagram—but an hour slipped past without me even noticing. Her work pulled me in like gravity. Her canvases aren’t flat. They breathe. They ripple and shift depending on how the light touches them.
So many moons. So many stars. Nebulas and solar flares and planets half-swallowed in shadow.
I kept revisiting one in particular—an eclipse painted in heavy layers, the darkness rich and deep, but edged in gold so vibrant it looks like it’s still burning.
Robin catches Juno’s eye and walks forward.
“Juno,” she says, holding out her hand. “I’m Robin Bernard. Great to meet you.”
Juno stands and takes Robin’s hand in both of hers. “Robin, hello. Thank you for the interview. I’m always open to talking about my work, especially with new publications.”
“Wonderful. Please meet my associates. This is Daniela Rodriguez and Vincent Smith.”
“Lovely to meet you both.” Juno shakes my hand and then Vinnie’s.
“We’re going to get some beverages.” Robin glances toward Juno’s mug. “Can we get you another?”