Love, Art, and Murder – Mystery Romance

You want me to live, Hex? Then fine, I’ll live. Just give me time to fill the void you left. Just give me time.

Footsteps sounded behind me. The sweet scent of orange blossoms drifted my way. My love’s seductive voice came next. “How are you doing?”

“Fine.”

Elle lay down next to me, placed her head on my chest, and combed her fingers through my hair. “Do you regret not being at the opening?”

“No. This is where I need to be, holding you and gazing up at the stars.”

“Is Grandma going?”

“No. She’s packing to go back to Cuba. She just wanted to finish restoring her garden so it wouldn’t breed bad spirits.” And probably preparing to knit baby tops and whatever else great grandmas make for five great grandchildren.

“Did you tell her I said hi?”

“Of course.” My skin tingled as her fingertips massaged my scalp.

“We have to be more careful when we make love and start using condoms soon. I’m running out of birth control pills. I doubt I’ll have any left by the time we get to. . . where are we going again?”

I laughed. It came out bold and rose high above the ocean.

“What’s so funny?”

“Grandma saw visions of great grandchildren.”

She raised her eyebrows. “You told me that Hex and you are her only grandchildren. Where are all these children coming from?”

I winked. “Do you know how to change diapers and make bottles?”

She cleared her throat. “How many did she see?”

“Five.”

“Five?” she screeched. “That’s a lot. Thank goodness you said she’s only fifty percent right. I don’t know if I’m ready for five kids.”

I drank her image in, those sensual eyes, full lips, soft skin, and that face that captured me before I even realized I was trapped. “How many are you ready for?”

She opened her mouth in shock. “I-I have no idea.”

“Hmmm.”

“What does ‘hmmm’ mean?”

“Nothing.”

“Yeah, right.” She smirked. “How many are you ready for?”

“Twenty at least.”

She tapped my chest. “Twenty? You’re insane. I can prepare myself for one or two, but anything more and I may lose it.”

“We would get you help, of course. Two nannies at least, a maid, cook—”

“Masseuse, too,” she added.

“Of course. We could have a whole team dedicated to making mommy happy.”

“Oh my God. You’re already calling me a mommy.”

I licked my lips. “I’m already thinking of the moments of conception.”

She shook her head. “Slow down. We’re already eloping to only God knows where to get married. Why won’t you tell me where we’re going?”

“Because it’s a surprise, but you’ll love it.”

“How do you know?”

“There will be tons of films there.”

“Oh, really? Is it the Cannes film festival? There’s no way we’re heading to France, right?”

I tried my best to keep a straight face, but I couldn’t do it. She brought the laughter out of me. “God, you’re hard to surprise. I had no idea you had all the dates of film festivals memorized.”

“Of course I do.”

“You should do something with this talent you have.”

“That’s the plan. I have a pretty full bank account now. I’m considering getting into the industry somehow, maybe film critic or starting an indie production company.”

I closed my eyes and let the boat rock me while I held my Elle. Hex had left a decent portion of his estate to Elle, making her financially independent and able to quit modeling for good.

“I figure I’ve seen so many movies,” she said. “I could probably help make some good ones.”

“You could. What would you make?”

“Something empowering for women.”

“And they’ll be nude, of course?”

She pinched my side.

“I’m sorry.” I chuckled. “They’ll have clothes on.”

“Yes. And they’ll be doing something bold and inspiring. Maybe I could do a documentary. If I did, I would want to do something on Grandma.”

“Dear God. We don’t need her in front of any more cameras, hacking away at corpses and chanting about her gods.”

“Stop that.”

For the rest of the night, we laughed in each other’s arms as the yacht pushed us forward to an unknown future that Hex had somehow painted for me.

Back in Miami, hundreds of people would be stepping into X-Lab to witness the death of a group of people who believed in their art so much they’d died for it. Many would find it inspiring. Others would think it was crazy. But I knew my brother the best of all. He loved many things. He’d made it his life to show the world something so powerful, the image would be ingrained in their minds for years after they’ve seen it. He believed in the ability to influence others so much he’d bet his soul in the claim.

And I imagine him high above me in some distant reality, checking in on me every now and then as he paints and creates more masterpieces.

Rest in peace, dear brother.