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turns into a botanist when the weed comes out.”
    I stuck out my tongue. “Oh, shut it.”
    The server cleared his throat. “Oracle bud has a forty-five percent THC level and is a three way stable cross between Euphoria Unlimited bud, Elephant Bud, and Ultra Fast. Euphoria makes the high long. Some have reported an eight-hour high from just one joint—”
    “Me likey.” I clapped again.
    Coco blew out more vapors. “Someone may need an intervention. Who needs to be high for eight hours straight?”
    Now, barely a half an hour later, I wondered if I would’ve still been walking upstairs to some rich guy’s roof, had I not smoked the Oracle. Granted, I needed a commission. While my fame grew, my funds had not.
    Relax. It will be okay.
    Fame and fortune didn’t go hand in hand, but it was nice when they did. Someone could easily be known and celebrated all over the city, yet broke as hell. I was hoping to not be in that situation. Bills needed to be paid. Rent would be due next month. I always had to get new colors of paint.
    Almost at the top of the stairs, I gazed up at the man in the blue suit. “What type of name is Dr. Sheep anyway?”
    Pierre said, “I believe it is a. . .family name.”
    “Where is his family from, Australia or maybe he’s British? I think I know a guy with the last name Lamb from London.”
    “Dr. Sheep will have to explain the origin of his name.” Pierre approached the top of the stairs and held the door open. “He should be out shortly.”
    I stayed on the top step and didn’t walk through. “I’m just going to wait on the roof?”
    “Yes. He should be here soon.”
    Unease sat at my gut, but I walked onto the rooftop. Granted, the high helped. Everything seemed more relaxed.
    The door shut behind me with a slam. I jumped and then laughed.
    The ganja whispered in my ear, “Hey, it’ll all going to work out, man. No worries. Oh look, snacks.”
    And sure enough, a table sat at the center of the rooftop covered in silver plates and bowls with decadent dishes. Bushels of roses filled the vases on top. Candles surrounded each one.
    Candles and roses? That’s a first for a commission meeting. Maybe, he was already going to use this space for something special and then decided to have a quick talk with me up here?
    In a darkening violet sky, stars glimmered above. The penthouse was in the center of Brickell, and its nightlife had just woke up. The beginning noises of luxury partying rose and met my ears—taxies honking, men laughing, high heels clattering against pavement, live music drifting out of five star restaurants.
    On the roof I approached the table, searched for anything coated in chocolate, and devoured several pieces of heavenly treats.
    A dark voice sounded behind me. “Hello, Red.”
    Munching in pure enjoyment, I twisted around with my hand holding a brownie in mid-air and spotted a tall man in front of me. “Murmo.”
    Great. You look like an idiot. Note to self, don’t smoke and then do business. Better yet, don’t talk business with your mouth full.
    I swallowed down the food and hoped chocolate wasn’t smeared over my front teeth. “I’m sorry. Hello.”
    “That’s fine. I’m Dr. Sheep.” He smiled, and it was in that moment my chest tightened.
    He wore the same marijuana leaf mask I had on, but instead of hiding him away, the mask added an air of mystery. That mouth of his appeared even tastier than the treats on the table. His lips were full and curved like the pout of one of those cherub angels, yet they were mounted within a hard jaw.
    He’s a bad boy. I can tell. I bet he has a stony mug of some sorts, all clenching and firm.
    I didn’t do bad boys, or men in general these days. My art demanded a higher priority. My murals kept me clothed, eating, living under a roof, and mentally happy. From my past love life I’d learned that men didn’t do that, and especially not bad boys.
    Just business with this one.
    Yet. . .I continued to study