The Sunset Prophecy (Love & Armageddon #1) (3 page)

Keelen bit her lip and swayed her hips with anxiety. She abhorred codependence, but
this time, she knew swallowing her pride was a small price to pay for not running into the umpteenth crack-head on the Metro line at fifteen before midnight.

“
Sure, thanks,” she said, reluctantly. “But I owe you...in fact, you can have my Cocoa Puffs. How’s that?”

C
indy shrugged and flashed Keelen a half-grin.

“
You ate them, didn’t you?” Keelen pointed her finger. “Just be here at 11:00, okay?”

Cindy made a sweeping gesture with her hand as Keelen closed the passenger-side door and walked toward the gallery.
“Meelenina Bascua.”

Keelen turned around.
“What was that for?”

“
It’s to keep the bad spirits away. I sense too much negativity surrounding you,” said Cindy through the open car window.

Keelen smirked, waved and tip-tapped
on her boots into the chic photo gallery.

4

A
Night on the Mount

K
eelen, you’re late again,” said Carol, the paunchy, graying store manager who had finagled herself into the only position within the store that paid a living wage. Carol was childless, husband-less, and was always the first one to arrive early and leave late because she lived in the apartment above the gallery.

“
I’m real sorry, Carol. It’s just that my ride...”

“
...this is getting old,” chided Carol. She grabbed Keelen by the arm and led her to a corner of the store. “You need to start taking this job seriously. I know you’re out there trying to make it, but I have on my desk right now over fifty job applications of kids trying to
make it
. Some of them are probably just as good or better actors than you—ones who could probably sell sin to Jesus himself.”

“
I understand...”

“
...this isn’t the first time you said you understood. We’ll talk after Mr. Click’s visit.”

Keelen
’s eyes widened. “What? He’s coming to the store? My hair...I need to do my hair...is my hair a mess?”

“
There’s no time. It looks fine. He’s in the parking lot right now and is going to enter the store any second,” Carol said quickly. She turned her attention to the other employees who were all loafing behind the cash register. “Marlon, your shirt…tuck it in. Lindsey, the lighting on that one isn’t quite right,” she said, pointing to Click’s
A Night on the Mount
: the large centerpiece that was meant to attract passersby. The photo had been taken on the peak of Mount San Antonio at night—the giant monolith that peaked out of the San Gabriel Mountains, and which was the ever-present prop for the city’s greatest magic trick whenever it disappeared behind the brown haze on those hot sweltering days the city was known for. The stars in the night sky were captured with a masterful time exposure, making it seem as if the mountain was showered with meteorites.

Thomas
Click’s emergence had come out of nowhere. He had begun his career as a humble photographer for Christian missionaries in Africa and ended up becoming an overnight cottage industry. He’d developed unique lighting techniques that he honed and mastered photographing Victoria Falls throughout the days and seasons. His portfolio eventually attracted the burgeoning bourgeois tastes of suburban wives across the country, and the scorn of those in the art community, who felt that the mass production of his works was both tacky and soulless.

The squeak the backdoor made at the back entrance was unmistakable. It sounded like a cross between a dying mouse and the melodic pangs of a banshee.

Thomas entered with his assistant in tow; he was an impish man with a bulbous nose, and his weight pulled his enormous head down to the iPad he held with his chunky hands.

All eyes
alighted on Thomas whenever he’d walk into a room; his smile transmitted confidence and his pencil-thin moustache exuded gentlemanly charm.

His eyebrows arched in enthusiasm when he laid eyes on Carol
’s tight ship. “Carol, your gallery is like finding a peach stand in the middle of a hot, desolate Alabama road.”

Carol stepped forward and gave Thomas a hug. Thomas, without hesitation, returned the pleasant embrace.

Trent, the stout assistant, nudged Thomas on his side.

“
Yes...yes...yes,” said Thomas, reminding himself. He turned to the employees who were lined up against the lone empty wall in the gallery.

As he gazed at each employee one by one, his large
black pupils kindled at the sight of Keelen, whose fortuitous symmetry stood in stark contrast to the mundane faces of the other workers. “Who are you?” asked Thomas in his cheeky twang.

“
This is Keelen Grant,” said Carol. “She’s been with us since December.”

“
You should be in commercials,” complimented Thomas, whose breath smelled like a combination of licorice and Dimetapp cough syrup.

Keelen blushed and turned her head downward.

“She’s also an aspiring actress,” informed Carol.

“
Really? Do you have an agent?” asked Thomas.

“
Yes...yes, I do.”

“
You know what? I’m gonna want to talk to you in a bit.”

Keelen stammered at Thomas
’s enthusiasm, “Th...thank you.”

L
indsey, who stood next to Keelen, smirked and rolled her eyes.

Carol pulled Thomas to the side and whispered something in his ear. He nodded. Keelen felt
self-conscious, as Carol had most likely informed the dapper artist about her constant tardiness. After a few moments, Thomas broke away from Carol and began his speech. “Now,” he said, punching the sky with the snap of his short arm. “For the real reason why I drove all the way from my ranch to come see ya’ll…”

The employees smiled. Keelen eyed Carol, whose face seemed to be stuck in perpetual smugness.

“Not only is this, by far, the highest-grossing store in the entire western region. Out of every store in the country, you’ve sold the most units of
A Night on the Mount
. Because of your commitment to excellence and your dedication as exemplary employees, ya’ll are receiving a raise of twenty-five cents.”

The employees all looked at each other, paused, and let out half-hearted
applause.

“
That’s right, ya’ll earned it. Feel proud. Remember, the more we get my work into all the homes across the land, the quicker I’ll gauge and observe the true artistic and emotional tastes of our clients.”

Thomas shook the hands of each employee and worked
his way down to Keelen, whose hand he shook the longest. “Keelen Grant, wonderful opportunities await. Can I meet with you in the office?”

Keelen choked up
. An ominous tingling ran down her spine. She tilted her head back and sighed, releasing the sudden tightness in her throat. Thomas disappeared through the doorway behind the counter. Carol smiled at Keelen, curling her lips with an air of superiority.

“
Don’t mess this up,” she said. “He never does this with any of his employees.”

Somewhat perplexed
Keelen raised an eyebrow at Carol and followed Thomas into the office. She looked back at her coworkers. They all stared down at the assistant’s tablet computer, but Lindsey flashed a look of slight contempt.

Thomas
sat behind the manager’s simple, gray desk when Keelen walked into the office.

“
Have a seat, Ms. Grant,” motioned Thomas. “Oh, and please, close the door.”

Keelen sheepishly did what she was told to do
and sat down on the only other chair.

“
How you like working here?” asked Thomas, in a calm Southern affability.

Keelen didn
’t find her position in the gallery as a burgeoning career, but it paid the bills. “I like it here a lot. Your work inspires me every day,” she said, feigning excitement.

“
Good. Which one of my works inspires you the most?”

Keelen paused.
“I’d say
Velvet on the Savannah
. The colors and lighting on that particular piece would humble even the most envious guest.”

“
Good marketing pitch,” chuckled Thomas. “Did Carol teach you that line?”

Keelen squirmed in her seat.
“I’m not gonna lie, but yeah, she did.”

“
So, how much acting work have you gotten in this town?”

“
Not much.”

“
Tough, ain’t it?”

“
Yeah,” she lightly snorted.

“
Carol tells me you’re always late,” Thomas said, while crossing his arms. “That’s unfortunate.”

“
I’m sorry, Mr. Click, it’s just...”

“
...it’s okay,” he said. “I know what it takes to get ahead in this world. I know the sacrifices one must make in order to create something extraordinary. I remember struggling, but I made the most of my opportunities by snatching them when they were given to me. Now, I just wander from place to place, and wait patiently, for the right opportunity. Which, for some unforeseen reason, always seems to work in my favor in the end.”

Keelen matched Thomas
’s enthusiasm by slapping her lap. “You’re absolutely right. I know what it takes to make it. I’ll work hard until that day comes, and I promise to be on time from now on.”

Thomas reclined back in his chair and crossed his hands behind his head. The businesslike demeanor on his face morphed into a casual one with specious eyelids.

“So, tell me, Ms. Grant. Just like most of the girls in this town, are you a risk taker?” Thomas then unbuttoned the top button right below his collar. “Are you a little wild?”

Keelen
’s face crinkled up like cellophane. “Excuse me?”

“
Are you an open-minded girl, one who would try something a little out of their comfort zone, perhaps?”

Her brows curled further at
his suggestive questioning. She found his behavior surprising and odd. Every day, she’d walk into the gallery and would see the portrait of Mr. Click and his family sitting on a pristine lawn, with his beautiful, fashion catalog children and his smiling, modelesque wife, with “Matthew 4:1” written at the base of the portrait’s border.

“
Are you suggesting that I...?”

Thomas quickly changed his tone.
“No, let me rephrase what I was saying. I didn’t mean to come off as some sort of old perv.”

“
I’m not that naive, Mr. Click.”

“
Now, now, Ms. Grant. I was just seeing if you wanted to join me for a drink tomorrow night to discuss the possibility of having you do one of my gallery’s national spots.”

Keelen shook her head.
“I don’t think your wife would appreciate the way you approached me with your offer, and I don’t think my boyfriend would either.”

“
You know, for someone who is in desperate need of real acting work around this town, you sure are a little tightly wound for your own good.”

Keelen stood up from the chair. The edges of her eyelids moistened, the nostrils on her thin nose flared.
“If there is one thing in which I pride myself, it’s in letting people know how I truly feel. I’m an honest, forthcoming human being. One who’s just trying to make it on my own, without compromising my entire being for a shortcut. You aren’t the first guy with a little power to offer me work in exchange for a good time. I’m not stupid.”

Thomas sighed.
“Such lofty ideals. Did you know that I could get in trouble by the feds for having you employed here?”

“
What do you mean?” Keelen asked, wiping a tear from her cheek.

“
I’ve run E-Verify. You don’t even have a visa.” Thomas grinned. “Where you from?”

“
From Southern California.”

“
You’re lying. I thought you were good at this honesty business.”

Keelen
’s teary eyes darted around the room. Her closed lips quivered. Thomas stood up and came around Keelen and put his arm around her shoulder. Under the cover-up aromas of licorice and Dimetapp, she smelled the unmistakable scent of bourbon on his breath. He whispered in her ear, “I can make this all go away. I can offer you guarantees. Believe me, there is nothing guaranteed in this town, but I’m full of them.”

Keelen curled her lips downward and held back her sobs with controlled resolve. She grabbed
his arm and lowered it off her shoulder. She squared her body and faced Thomas. Right then and there, she made a decision…a decision that would carve out the rest of her destiny with the precision of a highly trained surgeon’s nip.