The art studio wasn’t the only place of refuge Riley could think of, it was just the most practical one since it was located only a few blocks from the city park. He was happy to see it. It was unusually warm for January and it had been a really long day. The baseball bat he’d carried from the park felt heavier than usual in his hand.
Riley knew the art studio well. Over the last year, he’d been there at least a dozen times to meet Mariya, bring her coffee, or to tell her how wonderful her latest creation was. Not only did Riley have a key, he knew the alarm code. Mariya trusted him. With everything.
He wondered what she would think of Toro, if she were to meet him. He definitely wasn’t like anyone they’d met at the private school they’d attended since kindergarten. Would she find him interesting and attractive? Would she want to paint his portrait because he had such a fascinating face? Or maybe her reaction would be one of shock and fear.
He imagined Mariya’s words of concern: Riley, what are you thinking getting mixed up with a guy like that? He seems dangerous to me. Maybe he’s in a gang. Maybe he’s killed people. You trust too easily.
Riley knew he should feel strange about bringing a complete stranger to Mariya’s studio, but there was something intriguing about the guy. He felt bad for him. Yeah, he was probably up to no good and might’ve even broken a few laws in his lifetime, but he seemed like he needed help.
It must suck to be chased by a couple of idiots.
“What is this place?” Toro asked once they reached their destination.
Sandwiched in the center of a city block between a neglected coffee house and a used-book store was a nondescript wooden door painted rust orange.
“It’s a hideout,” Riley explained. “It’s upstairs. An art studio.”
“An art studio?” Toro repeated. “I thought you were into baseball, man.”
“I am,” Riley said, gesturing to the bat he was holding.
Toro glanced back as if he were making sure they’d lost Alfonso and Sergio somewhere in their dust. He seemed nervous, on edge.
“They won’t find us here,” Riley reassured him.
Toro gave a slight nod. “Yeah,” he agreed. “I don’t think they’d come to this neighborhood.”
Riley wondered what Toro meant by his comment considering they’d traveled less than three blocks since leaving the park, but he knew time was of the essence. He made a mental note to ask later.
He reached into the front pocket of his faded jeans and pulled out a dull golden key tied to a circle of green yarn.
He was aware Toro was standing behind him, close. He could hear the rise and fall of his staggered breath. It tickled the back of Riley’s neck.
“I gotta tell you,” Toro said, “I’ve never met somebody with an art studio before.”
Riley grinned. “It isn’t mine,” he said. “But I wish it was. Everybody needs a place to chill.”
He slid the key into the lock, turned it, and pushed the creaky door open, revealing a narrow staircase. He started the climb with Toro right behind.
“Pull the door closed,” he instructed. “You have to yank it hard, otherwise it won’t lock.”
Riley watched as Toro completed the task. The front door made a metal clicking sound, indicating the lock was secure.
“You sure we’re supposed to be in here?” Toro asked.
They reached the top of the stairs. The open doorway was covered with a pale blue curtain. Riley reached for the soft edge of it and pulled it. He never knew what he was going to find on the other side.
“Yeah,” Riley said, relieved. “No one’s here.”
The studio was octagon shaped. Half of the walls consisted of double-hung windows, allowing splashes of natural light to fill the space and bathe the hardwood floors with a golden wash. There were canvases, wooden stools, drop cloths, tubes of paint, and brushes soaking in glass jars. They were surrounded by Mariya’s creativity; her brightly colored works of art demanded their attention. Each was in a different stage of completion.
Riley went to a digital panel on the wall and punched in the alarm code.
“It smells like paint,” Toro noted.
“You want me to open a window?” Riley asked.
“No. I’m good. But it’s warm in here.”
Riley turned to the thermostat and pushed a button. “It’ll be cooler in a second.”
Toro took a step farther into the room. “Whose place is this?”
“A girl I know.”
“Is she your girlfriend?”
Riley shrugged. For some reason, he didn’t feel like talking about Mariya. “Sort of,” he said. “I don’t know what we are.”
Toro grinned. “Yeah, I got a similar situation.”
They fell silent then. They glanced at each other with quick, furtive looks. Riley felt unsure of what to do or say. He slid the tips of his fingers into the front pockets of his jeans.
Riley was dying to ask questions. There was something about Toro he found exciting. He didn’t seem like the guys on the baseball team. He had more edge, more swagger.
I wonder what his story is.
“Whatever she is to you, this girl’s got money,” he said. Toro’s voice filled the room. It was deep and authoritative. Yet there was warmth to it that offered a sense of comfort. His eyes scanned the studio. “You can tell.”
“Yeah,” Riley said. “Her family does.”
Toro looked at Riley. “I guess yours does, too.” It wasn’t a question so Riley didn’t bother responding. Besides, Toro was right.
Riley took another glance at the studio, as if he were seeing it for the first time. The room reeked of privilege.
No wonder he thinks she’s rich. Look at this place. Great, now he’s gonna think I’m some stuck-up white kid.
Like most people Riley knew, Mariya had a wealthy father. But Mariya’s mother was rich, too. Both were ridiculous and lame, giving Mariya everything she wanted except a normal life. She was an artist and rejected their over-the-top lifestyle every chance she got, begging them to embrace the harsh realities of the world. The only gift she ever accepted from them was the one Riley was standing in. He wondered if they’d bought and refurbished the art studio for her as a way to show her love.
Maybe it’s the only way they know how.
He’d been to Mariya’s house only once—and that was enough. From the Olympic-sized swimming pool complete with natural waterfalls and flirtatious cabana boys dressed in white to a helicopter pad in the sprawling backyard, the castle-like estate was more than excessive—it was obnoxious.
When Mariya’s mother wasn’t conducting international conference calls from the comfort of her ginormous canopy bed, her personal ponytailed male astrologer was at her bedside, advising and guiding her choices based on what the stars said—even in the middle of the day.
Riley couldn’t help it. He wanted to know more about this guy named Toro. He was unlike anyone he’d ever known. “Why are those guys chasing you?” he asked.
Toro reached into his pocket for his cell. He checked the screen as if he was waiting to hear from someone. He looked discouraged. “It’s better if I don’t tell you,” he said. “Let’s just say we don’t get along real good.”
“I don’t think they’ll find you here,” said Riley. “You can stay as long as you need to.” Riley put the bat down, placing it on the smooth surface of a worktable in a corner of the room.
“Thanks,” Toro said. “I can take off soon. Let you get back to whatever it is you gotta do.” Toro moved to a window. From it you could see the Golden Gate Bridge in the far distance. He looked at the landmark as if seeing it for the first time.
“Other than baseball, my life doesn’t consist of much these days,” Riley said. “Except having to switch schools this morning because of my insane parents.”
Toro kept his gaze out the window. “You close to them?” he asked.
Riley stood next to Toro. He looked at his profile, studied it. “No. Not really,” he said. “They just got a divorce because my dad was sleeping with Amber. So me and my mom had to move into this tiny-ass apartment. It sucks. We don’t even have a fridge.”
Toro turned to him. “I could get you one if you want me to…you know. To thank you for saving my ass like you did.”
“No, we’re good,” said Riley. “We’ll figure something out.”
Toro checked his phone again.
“Is everything okay?” Riley asked.
“I don’t know,” he said. “There was a gunshot when I was in the park. I don’t know who pulled the trigger or who got hit. I’m kinda worried.”
Riley tried to hide the slight tinge of fear he felt. “Someone got shot?”
“Yeah,” said Toro. “It happens.”
“That’s crazy.”
“That’s my life,” he said. “Crazy.”
“I hope nobody got hurt.”
“Me, too. I’m waiting to hear from my sister,” Toro explained. “She should’ve texted me by now.”
“Maybe she’s hiding, too.”
“Yeah, I hope so.” Toro continued to stare into the horizon as if he were searching for something he’d lost. Finally, he turned back to Riley. “I’m glad I ran into you,” he said. “Thanks for giving me a place to hide, man.”
“Hey, it’s no problem, really. I didn’t want you to get caught.”
Toro leaned in closer. “You said your name was Riley? I’ve never met a Riley before.”
Riley smiled but he didn’t know why. There was something about Toro that made him happy. He felt alive standing next to him. “It’s a boring name,” he said. “Not like yours. Toro’s cool.”
It was Toro’s turn to smile. “Yeah, it’s just a nickname.”
“You said you go to East Berkeley High. Are you a senior?” Riley asked. “Maybe we’ll have a class together.”
“Yeah, I’m a senior, but I’m not sure if I’ll be graduating in June.”
“Bad grades?”
“Try no grades,” said Toro. “I gotta show up to do the work. That’s what that guidance counselor said.”
“Mrs. Aguilar? I met her today.”
“Yeah, her,” Toro said, not holding back his disdain. “She’s on my ass all the time talking about how I need to have more respect for myself and represent my people and shit like that. She thinks she can talk to me like she’s my mom just because she’s Mexican.”
“Are you Mexican?” Riley asked, hoping it wasn’t an offensive question.
“Half. My dad’s Puerto Rican. Makes no sense to me why he hooked up with my mom back in the day.”
Riley was confused. “What do you mean?”
“Puerto Ricans and Mexicans don’t get along real good,” Toro explained. “Since me and my sister are both, lots of fools hate on us all the time.”
Riley caught a glimpse of the sadness in Toro. It was below the surface, beyond the tough, street-smart image he was trying to project. Underneath it all, Toro was just as mixed up, scared, and lonely as Riley was.
I can see it.
“Sounds like you have a lot of enemies,” he said.
Toro gave a slight nod of agreement. “Yeah, you could say that.”
Riley looked into his dark eyes and said, “Maybe you just need a friend.”
Toro shifted his attention back to the view, the bridge, the bay. “Yeah, I don’t have many of those.”
Riley moved. They were shoulder to shoulder now, facing the window. “Me either.”
Toro tapped the glass with his finger and asked, “You ever been there? To the other side of the bridge?”
Riley smiled at the thought. “San Francisco?” he said. “Yeah. A bunch of times.” Then he realized. “You?”
Toro lowered his gaze. “No. Never have,” he said. “Thought about taking the train over there since it’s so close, you know.”
How is that even possible? It takes less than half an hour to get there from here.
“Did you grow up here?” he asked.
Toro let out a sigh that sounded like defeat and said, “My whole life.”
Riley couldn’t hide his surprise. “And you’ve never crossed the bridge?”
Toro turned away. He faced the center of the room, the blue curtain covering the entryway of the studio. “I know,” he said. “It’s stupid, right?”
The cell phone in his hand buzzed. He checked it and said, “Shit…I gotta go.”
“Everything okay?” Riley asked, responding to the sudden flash of anger in Toro’s eyes.
Toro shook his head and said, “No. Something really fucked-up just happened and I gotta fix it.”
He moved to the curtain. He pulled it back hard.
He’s leaving. I might not ever see him again.
Riley stopped him with his words. “My friends are having a bonfire on Saturday night. In the marina. Down by the pier. In César Chávez Park. You should come.”
There was a new tension in Toro’s body. Rage was simmering beneath his skin. “I know where it is.”
“It would be cool to see you again,” Riley said. “You know, to hang out together.”
They stared at each other for a few seconds.
I don’t want him to leave. Not yet. There’s still so much I don’t know.
“I don’t know if I can be there,” Toro said. He continued with his exit. But then he stopped with both feet on the top step, looked back, and added, “But I’ll try.”
Riley nodded, accepting the vagueness in Toro’s reply as a maybe.
Riley listened to each heavy sound Toro’s feet made as he hurried down the stairs.
Then, the door opened and closed.
And then, silence.