Chapter 2
Isabella pushed open the front door to the Vibrant Hue Art Gallery, and the familiar bell sounded. Her heart pounded in her chest. Chase Hawkins was texting her. She had his phone. It even smelled like him . . . a little. Yes, she’d smelled the phone.
She had a problem. She admitted it.
Leilani looked up from the hostess desk. “Hello, Isabella.”Leilani was the epitome of petite; she always wore something hip, and her hair was cut short in one of those inverted-bob styles.
“Slow day?” Isabella asked, trying to calm her pounding heart.
“Mr. Kato came in and bought Water Lily. Other than that, we’ve been dead.”
“He’s been looking at that one for a long time. I’m glad he decided to buy it.” Isabella took her backpack off and went into the office.
“Elenore wants you to take it down from the website,” Leilani called.
“Will do,” Isabella said, turning on the computer.
She took in a deep breath. She loved the smell of the gallery, the bright artwork on the walls, and the intricate sculptures on the pedestals. Someday her paintings would grace these walls, like her father’s had in the past. Mrs. Elenore Shepherd didn’t think she was good enough yet, which was funny because Elenore had tried to sell her own paintings in the gallery—and failed. No one wanted them.
As Isabella waited for the computer to boot up, she pulled a photograph from her back pocket and touched the surface. Her mother was seventeen in the picture. She was smiling at the camera like she didn’t have a care in the world. She had dark hair, like Isabella’s, cascading down her shoulders. She looked positively gleeful. Her name was Emma.
“It’s been a good day, Mom,” she said. It was silly, she knew, but talking to the photo helped her feel better about life. And she hoped, somewhere, her mother could hear her.
Chase’s phone chimed. She stuffed the photo back in her pocket. She’d messed around until she’d turned off the Snapchat notifications, so she knew it was Chase.
A tiny thrill shot through her. She took his phone out to look at the screen.
Why don’t you have any numbers in your phone?
She punched in her response. Why are you looking?
You won’t tell me who you are. I got curious.
It’s a new phone. I haven’t put them in yet.
What are you doing?
She peered around the office.
I’m at work.
I have to memorize lines for an audition I don’t want to have.
She thought about what to say to him. If he really didn’t want the part, there was an easy solution.
Then mess up your audition.
What? Are you serious?
Why not? If you don’t want the part, don’t be right for it.
U R A GENIUS.
I know.
Lol. I think I love you.
Isabella choked and almost dropped the phone on the floor. She caught it in time and stuffed it back into her pocket. He was joking, of course, but seeing those words still made her heart jump into her throat.
She opened the gallery’s website and logged into the content editor. The website was her responsibility, as per her stepmother’s commands. Usually she didn’t mind doing it. At first, it had been stressful, as she had no clue how to build a website. It had taken her a whole month of watching YouTube videos and reading to figure out how to get the thing up and running.
She found the Water Lily and deleted it from inventory. Tomorrow she’d have to take some photos of the new artwork they were getting in to put up on the website, but tonight she wouldn’t worry about it.
Paco stuck his head in her office. “Hey, pretty lady.”
Isabella smiled at him. Paco mostly helped with the behind-the-scenes work at the gallery, but sometimes he took over for Leilani on the sales floor or helped paint the walls when they were redecorating. He was a friendly man in his forties. “Hey, Paco. How are you?”
“I’m good. Just a heads-up, more art is coming in,” he said with his Mexican accent.
She nodded. “Okay, thanks.”
He waved and ducked out again.
She pulled up the books and entered the day’s sale on the ledger. Not only was she the webmaster, she was also the bookkeeper. Elenore wrote the checks, signed the contracts with the artists, and hobnobbed with the clientele. Elenore’s job mostly consisted of hanging out at the country club and going to social events. But she claimed it was necessary to keep the customers returning.
After entering the sale, Isabella opened the closet and took out the broom. It was also her responsibility to keep the gallery clean. By the time she was done, it was after six. She waved to Leilani on her way out. “See you tomorrow.”
The gallery was located on a commercial strip only three blocks from her house. Since it was on the way home from school, Elenore didn’t think she needed a car. “It’s better for you to walk,” she’d say. She must not have wanted Delilah and Ava to be healthy by that logic, what with the sporty little Mazda MX-5 she bought them.
Isabella entered her house and walked into the kitchen, her stomach grumbling. She pulled out the sandwich meat and some bread, and then fixed herself a quick meal. Elenore strutted in as she was getting out the package of Oreos. “Don’t touch those. They’re for the party tonight.”
Of course they were.
She slid them back on the shelf and shut the cupboard door.
“Don’t drop any crumbs, or you’ll have to vacuum,” Elenore said, as she patted her long, blonde hair that she wore swept up in a fancy French twist. Isabella had never seen the woman with even one gray hair. It was like they were scared to make an appearance. Her fingernails were manicured and always blood red. She usually wore long dresses with leather boots, as if she’d stepped out of a time machine from the 1890’s.
Elenore breezed out of the room, leaving behind the gagging essence of her overpowering perfume.
Isabella made a face at the empty doorway. She picked up her plate and climbed the stairs to her room. Every time she walked through her home, she felt her heart break a little more. It was magnificent, with a huge, open floor plan and balconies that jutted out in architectural genius. Her father had bought it because she had fallen in love with it. But now that he was gone, everything belonged to Elenore.
She bit into the sandwich as she entered her bedroom, and then shut the door. Elenore always threatened to banish her to the attic with the spiders if she didn’t do as she said. Isabella wasn’t sure if it was an empty threat or not, so she did as she was told.
Her one joy was her bedroom. It was the largest of all the bedrooms in the house, but it was the one Isabella had picked out when she and her father had moved in, and no one had the backbone to kick her out. Plus, it was the only room large enough for her hobby, and Elenore liked pushing Isabella to improve her painting skills.
The fading sunlight streamed through her floor-to-ceiling sliding-glass windows, hitting her canvases. Painting was her relief. Her retreat into another world. She wasn’t as good as her father, but she still gained immense satisfaction from it. Her father had made millions from his passion, and she loved the connection she felt to him when she painted.
She stepped out onto her balcony and took another bite of her sandwich. The view always took her breath away. Being situated on the edge of a cliff had its advantages. The Los Angeles valley stretched before her. At night, the city was lit up with a million pinpricks of light. Right now, in the setting sun, the orange light reflected off the buildings. The breeze raced across her skin, blowing her long, dark hair. She closed her eyes and leaned on the railing, wondering what Chase was doing.
After she finished her dinner, she walked back inside and drew the curtains. She’d spend the evening doing what she loved. She set up a blank canvas on her easel and tightened it in place. Her father had taught her the art of painting directly on the canvas with her fingers; she squeezed out several colors on the palette, then dipped her fingers in the cool acrylic paint.
She allowed the process of applying color to canvas take her away and was surprised when noises sounded from downstairs. The people were starting to show up for the after-game party. Minutes had turned into hours. The sun had set long ago. She wiped off her fingers with a rag, then went into her bathroom to wash them.
As she dried her hands, she heard a chime from Chase’s phone.
Done with the audition. Won’t be getting that part. Ha!
She held in a smile and punched in a response.
What’d you do?
Didn’t look up. Read in monotone. The director was quite unimpressed.
I hope your parents aren’t mad.
Mom wasn’t in the audition room. She’s happy. I’m happy. You are brilliant.
Isabella grinned at the phone. She’d helped Chase Hawkins. What a day this was turning out to be.
I’m glad.
I should buy you dinner.
She blinked. What? Was he asking her out?? No way. Her heart sped up as she responded.
I already ate.
Are you going to Delilah’s party tonight?
She swallowed, a lump forming in her throat like a rock.
No.
Come on. Please? We need to switch phones anyway.
Her fingers trembled as she thought about sneaking down to the party. No, that wouldn’t work. As soon as Delilah saw her, she’d pitch a hissy fit and totally embarrass her. And if Delilah saw her with Chase, it would be a million times worse.
I can’t. I’m grounded.
Oh, snap. Is this about earlier? When you were late?
Yes. That was the easiest thing to let him think.
Sorry. Why were you late?
She debated telling him the truth. It couldn’t hurt.
Pep rally crowds.
You couldn’t have been that late.
She rolled her eyes. How could she explain her situation?
Stepmom is strict.
That sucks. Text if you are late again. I’ll give you a ride home.
She put the phone to her chest and held in a scream. Chase Hawkins just offered to give her a ride home from school. Could this really be happening? But then a sinking feeling replaced her euphoria. She’d forgotten who she was for a moment. She couldn’t go near Chase. Her stepmother would kill her. But it was super nice of him to offer.
Thank you.
She turned off her bathroom light and went back out onto her balcony. The city lights stretched for miles. The phone chimed again.
What are you doing tomorrow?
Still grounded.
How long would this same excuse work?
What’s your address? I’ll drop off your phone.
She couldn’t tell him that. She chewed on her fingernail before getting an idea.
I know a place where you can leave my phone, and I’ll switch them. I’ll sneak out.
Whoa. Bad girl. I like it. You should sneak into the party. I’ll be there.
I wish.
Did she, though? She usually didn’t mind staying away from the crowds. She liked her solitude. But the thought of going downstairs tonight was appealing to her.
This was not good. She was going to get herself into trouble.