Page 8 of Laying Low

Reg almost stumbled and then recovered.“Don’t you want to see the kids’ art?Or have a cupcake?Or—”

“Oh my God!”Anthony laughed.“Registrar, come on!I mean, I would have come if you’d asked me to mop the floors, but seriously, I really want to see your—oh.”

With unerring accuracy, Anthony had been heading for the centerpiece of the floor, and Reg found himself parked in front of his own paintings while Anthony stared at Reg’s soul on display.

“Oh wow,” Anthony breathed, reaching out toward a picture of a man sitting on the back of a truck under a starry night sky, a guitar perched on his lap, his silhouetted face turned toward a pale moon as he apparently sang out his soul.“This is lovely.What is this?”

“It was in the news,” Reg mumbled.“His friend was trapped in a canyon with some other folks, and all the musician could do was play music so they knew they weren’t alone.”

“Oh geez.Wow.”Anthony put his hand over his mouth, hiding what may have been a luminous smile.“That’s beautiful.What medium did you use?”

“Well, I did it digitally first,” Reg said, showing a smaller version, printed on a high-resolution printer, “but I wanted to show the kids the difference in mediums, so I took the concept and reworked it in acrylic.”He grunted.“You’ve seen my apartment.There’s not enough ventilation for oils, although I’ve already sacrificed the rug.”

“You should have a studio,” Anthony said dreamily.“One room, open to the light.You should be able to do this for a living, have shows, teach seminars.This is so good….”

He trailed off and bent down, staring at a picture of a golden retriever frolicking through a field of grass stubble, an older man walking behind her.The style was impressionistic, the overlying mood that of a hazy golden afternoon, but every brush stroke—it was in acrylic—brought more and more color into the bucolic scene.

“You just did this!”he said.“This is Catherine the Great and Bailey’s dad!”Reg’s parents’ new tenants.

“Yeah,” Reg mumbled, and knew his cheeks were turning red.“I mean, you know.Adog.”He sighed.“Not that Chance’s snake isn’t awesome.Or all the cats.”

“But you’d like a dog,” Anthony said.There had been dogs at the reunion, but they’d belonged to Proctor and Laure.

“Well, thanks to Connor I have a dog.Sort of a nephew,” Reg told him happily.“All of the licks on the face, none of the poop.”It was time to change the subject.“Speaking of, is the snake gonna poop?”

“The snake is gonna poop,” Anthony told him dryly.“A little prodding—and a call to an exotic animal vet—pretty much told us the snake was going to be okay.Marcus is on Muffin watch for the next few hours, which is good.I think it makes him feel useful.We were advised to maybe let her go an extra couple days between feedings, since this meal is so much bigger than her usual prey.”

Reg let out a sigh.“Oh my God, were we lucky,” he said.“Can you imagine if we had to tell Chance his snake died?”He shuddered.

“I notice you don’t have any Muffin portraits on the wall,” Anthony said, and Reg shrugged.

“Well, we’ve only had her for two weeks.Give me some time.She’s a very handsome snake.”

Anthony cocked his head.“Is there any creature youdon’tlove?”he asked, and there seemed to be something serious in his eyes.

Something Reg couldn’t look away from.

“I had a bully in the seventh grade I’m glad I don’t have to talk to,” he said truthfully.Braeden fucking Robertson.Reg hadn’t been a fan.

Anthony’s mouth turned up at the corners, and the room seemed to whirl, centripetal force pushing them closer and closer and….

A student’s shrill squeal sliced through the spinning room, and Reg stepped back quickly.He wassupposedto be a grown-up here!

“Wow,” he muttered.“Renee.That was loud.”

“Shit!”Adelle Barerra’s snarl echoed through the hard space of the stucco and tile cafeteria.“You bastards can’t come in here.Statelawsays you can’t come in here.This is a school function, and you are not allowed on school grounds.”

Reg’s spine snapped straight, and he and Anthony shared startled glances.Anthony’s mouth shaped the words, “What in the fu—” but Reg knew exactly what was going on.

Renee Clemmons scooted over to where they stood, in the center of the floor but far enough away from the door to hide behind the corkboards and shelves displaying the art.

“ICE,” she whispered.“They were lurking outside the school all day.The sheriff kept saying they weren’t, but look at them!”

“They’re wearing masks,” Anthony said softly.“They’re not supposed to be able to do that anymore.Do they have a warrant?”

“Has it mattered?”Reg replied bitterly.“Renee, are they asking for anybody in particular?”

“Reynaldo,” she whispered.