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She felt him tense up, just for a second. “Yeah,” he said, without turning around.
Was he nervous? Should she be nervous?
She’d been joking around, but really, she had no idea what he was up to and this whole top-secret escapade was weird. Why was he dressed so strangely? Obviously, he didn’t want to be recognized. But why?
Ryder was notorious for being caught doing all kinds of scandalous things. Parties, women, once an incident of drag racing through downtown Madrid. What could he possibly be up to that he wanted to keep secret?
He pulled her along through the crowd on the subway platform and up the stairs. The air was cooler up here, a welcome reprieve from the stuffy subway, but it was another unseasonably warm day for February.
“Come on.” Ryder, still holding her hand, looked both ways before leading her across the street to a small park.
It consisted mostly of a basketball court with netless hoops and cracked pavement. A half-dozen teenage boys were playing a loud but friendly game.
Ryder walked to a set of weathered benches and sat. He indicated for her to do the same.
She looked around, confused. “We’re . . . stopping here?”
People bustled along on the sidewalks. An old woman out with her dog. A mom with a stroller and a toddler in tow. A guy carrying takeout food.
“Mmm-hmm,” Ryder answered. He leaned over and unzipped his bag, which he had set on the ground, pulled out a sketchbook and pencil, and started sketching.
Huh. So he did still draw. She was unexpectedly happy to see this was the case—even more touched to be let in on it. She leaned over to look at the page. He was working on a fantasy landscape, complete with a variety of mischievous-looking mythical creatures. The details were quite nuanced considering he was just working in pencil. But then he had always been a talented artist.
“Yo, Mr. R!” One of the kids had left the basketball court and was walking over to them, breathing heavily.
Ryder brightened. “James, what’s up?” He reached up to fist-bump the boy, a scrawny fourteen at most.
“Not much. You bring any charcoal today?”
“In the bag.” Ryder nodded. “There’s some oil pastels in there too.”
James dug around, pulling out supplies. “Ooh, nice. I tried these last time.”
“Let me know if you want me to show you some things you can do with them.”
“Yeah, okay.”
By now a couple of the other kids had come over. James pulled small sketchbooks out of the bag for each of them, and they divvied up the supplies. Ryder continued to focus on his sketch through his witness-protection disguise nerd glasses. Vicky, meanwhile, simply gaped.
“Who’s the lady, Mr. R?” one of the kids leaned in and whispered to Ryder, not quite quietly enough.
“She’s a friend of mine.”
“I’m gonna draw my cat,” said James.
“I’m gonna draw a bunch of stuff exploding,” said the loud whisperer.
“Can I draw your lady friend, Mr. R?” asked a gangly boy as he joined the others sitting on the ground.
Ryder paused, cocking his head to the side.
“I don’t know.” He turned to her. “Lady friend?”
She blinked. “Uh, yes, sure. Why not?”
Ryder gave her a little nod and went back to his sketch, the corner of his mouth curving up ever so slightly.
The boy pushed up his sleeves and started sketching her. She held her pose for him, but she didn’t take her eyes off Ryder.
