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He couldn’t go. He stayed in the workshop past midnight. There was a methodical, unemotional satisfaction in doing the same things. Sawing, sanding, painting, varnishing. The smell of wood and paint and solitude. Company seemed overrated – at least it had done since Maia had left. If he let his mind run free, she’d be back there, seventeen years old and perched on the edge of the old workbench, talking and laughing and just existing. Real and alive.They hadn’t even been friends to begin with. He knew her older brother. She was there in the pauses, the moments in-between, the flashes of possibility in endless weeks of monotony. Alone together with nothing to say. No manual on how to act. She always seemed so very female; the archetype of a girl, with dresses and braided hair and clean fingernails. Beside her he felt like something offensive. Vulgar and coarse and too loud and too far gone to change. But she watched him like he was interesting. Like he had something she. He'd kiss your ass while he picked your pocket!The smile on Evan's face froze into a mask. It was obvious that themobster was in no mood to be friendly. His thoughts automaticallyswitched over to escape plans and of whom he might blame. What did heneed to tell Anders that would let him get away with no additionalbruises?"Yes, sir," Evan said, switching from friendly to respectful colleaguemode. Damn it! This was why Evan had not wanted to deal with Anders.Amateurs who did not understand the grifting art wanted their moneynow...now...now. They didn't understand that conning someone was likeinvesting in the stock market: You had to wait for the right moment totake your money out. Especially if you wanted the mark to stay conned."We had to bring Rob back in to work on his...attitude. We ran into alittle problem," Evan said smoothly. "It's nothing to worry about."The whiny quality of his voice even grated on Rob."You wasted weeks making your friend look like a debutante and.
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