So Damn Beautiful (A New Adult Romance)

by L. J. Kennedy

  I nodded. “Yeah, this is where a friend is going to meet me.”

  He looked doubtful. “Well, if ya need to get back to Manhattan, I’ll be makin’ my rounds for the next half hour. Just call if you decide you want a, er, classier scene,” he’d said, shoving his card into my hand.

  As I scoped out the bar, I was beginning to consider calling the cabbie and getting the hell out of there. But I decided to give it a few more minutes. Maybe Chase was late.

  “Excuse me.” I intercepted a woman with long purple hair and multiple eyebrow piercings. “I’m looking for Chase Adams. Do you know if he’s around?”

  She stared me down as if I were a cockroach on the wall.

  “What the hell? It was a simple question,” I mumbled to myself as I backed off.

  At that moment, I felt a friendly tap on my shoulder. “Hey, baby, looking good.” I readied myself for an unwelcome confrontation with some sleazebag as I turned around, but it was just Chase, grinning at me with those perfect pearly whites. He was wearing a leather bomber jacket and a white T-shirt, and his hair was slicked back from his face to reveal his high cheekbones and gleaming green eyes. He was a more beautiful version of James Dean. I willed my heart to be still.

  “I didn’t think you’d show,” he said, rubbing his chin and nodding approvingly.

  “Yeah, well, you thought wrong,” I snapped. “Does everyone around here have a chip on their shoulder?”

  “Nah, just the girls who hate me,” he said, winking. “Come on back. I have a table.”

  I followed him through the haze of cigarette smoke and sour whiskey stench. At his table were four people: a pretty black girl with dreadlocks and what looked like a necklace of tiny skull beads, two fairly nondescript bearded guys, and Chase’s friend Reynaldo. I frowned as he and I made eye contact.

  “Hey, mami, you glad to see me?” he said amiably, as if he hadn’t scared the shit out of me a couple weeks ago by acting like an immature ass.

  “Not really,” I replied coldly, which sent a wallop of laughter around the table.

  “Yo, I didn’t mean nothin’ by last time. Pike and me were just having a little fun!” he protested, holding his hands up as if I were the aggressor here.

  “You might want to try your fun on someone your own size next time,” I shot back, realizing I sounded like a schoolteacher admonishing a playground bully. But I didn’t care to humor Reynaldo or any of Chase’s other friends—not in the mood I was in.

  Chase attempted to change the subject by introducing his other friends. The girl, Rowena, seemed genuinely friendly (and even complimented me on my dress), while the two bearded guys (who called themselves Entropy and Z) were more taciturn.

  “We were just talking about art,” Chase said, grinning at me. “Annie’s an art student at NYU,” he told the others at the table.

  “Does she know about any of the illegal shit you do, dawg?” Reynaldo asked.

  Chase shrugged. “Annie’s cool,” he said, stealing a glance at me.

  The conversation at the table was spirited but a little predictable. The gathered group were discussing the benefits of maintaining artistic street cred.

  “We never want to become the kind of coveted commodities the world is turning graffiti artists into,” Rowena said passionately. “You see the kind of posturing all these street artists turned sellouts do. It’s led to the destruction of the art itself.”

  “I don’t know; I think keeping it to ourselves just keeps our people down,” Reynaldo piped up. “You’ve got the big-ass galleries coming in and stealing our shit without even giving us credit. In the meantime, it’s war out here. You still have turf conflicts, a hail of bullets, and talented writers getting brought down because we’re not willing to just go public. All this alias bullshit is keeping us reined in.”

  “Authenticating your art on the street is basically the same as admitting you’ve committed a crime,” Entropy argued. “Don’t think for a second the pigs will let us fly under the radar for the sake of preserving our city’s culture. You’ll end up at Rikers before you get a pat on the back from folks at the Guggenheim.”

  “It takes the beauty out of the whole thing when we let ourselves out into the daylight,” Chase said, glancing at me now and then as he spoke to see if I could keep up. “You have some graffiti artists who were able to connect to the mainstream, but this has never been a subculture that was about cashing in on your art or being successful. Even people like Banksy have said commercial success is a mark of failure for the graffiti artist.”

  Z snorted. “He’s been riding the coattails of social media for years. He does a piece, and now the entire world Instagrams it. Why the fuck is he complaining?”

  They continued to debate about whether or not graffiti becomes advertising when a price tag is placed on it. I was fascinated by the conversation, although I didn’t think I had much to add to it, so I was at a loss for words when Rowena turned to me and said, “What do you think, Annie?”

  I blushed as all eyes turned to me. “Well, I . . . I’m not an artist, but . . .”

  “See, she’s just another chick who doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” Reynaldo quipped.

  “Let her speak, man!” Chase said.

  I frowned at the blatant sexism of Reynaldo’s statement, which made me think of some of the research I’d been doing on modern graffiti movements. I looked pointedly at Reynaldo. “Actually, what you just said sums up one of the things this art form is afflicted by: a lack of women. Graffiti could benefit from some more gender equity, especially considering one of the primary criticisms against it is that it’s dominated by a male perspective, one that’s often violent and tied to gang activity. I’m not saying that’s true for all graffiti, of course. I’m just saying there’s an entire world that exists beyond the debate of whether or not graffiti is a viable form of art, and whether or not artists who get signed to big galleries are sellouts. We should also be thinking of whose voice, whose art, is being heralded as the next big thing.”

  Amazingly, everyone was nodding emphatically. “You should check out Olek,” Rowena told me. “She’s a badass yarn bomber. She’ll go out and knit stuff around cars, trees, buildings, whatever. Her installations are phenomenal, and they also throw dirt over the establishment’s idea that knitting isn’t real art, just stuff your grandma makes.”

  I smiled. “That sounds awesome, as well as funny.” I looked around, feeling emboldened. “I think maybe graffiti could use a dose of good-natured humor, not just scathing satire.”

  That pushed us into a new tangent about the aesthetic value of comedy, which I almost immediately zoned out on.

  Chase glanced at me as if to see if I was doing okay. “You want a drink?” he asked, practically bellowing over the loud thumping of the music.

  I nodded and followed him to the bar. “Two vodka tonics,” he said to one of the bartenders. I stood tall, as if that would add a couple years to my stature. As I’d been told before, most dive bars in the Bronx weren’t all that rigid when it came to checking IDs, but you never knew.

  “Actually, I’ll have a beer,” I piped up, then gave Chase a playful half smile. “As a liberated woman, I can order for myself.”

  “Hey, there’s nothing I appreciate more than a liberated woman,” he offered back, giving me a grin that just about made me want to shed my clothes. “But I’m paying, and that’s final.” He threw a few bills onto the bar. Before we could make our way back to the table, two women—a sultry brunette with icy blue eyes, and a blonde with a pouty smile—stopped Chase in his tracks. The latter draped herself shamelessly over Chase to block his path.

  “Hey, baby, I haven’t seen you around in a while,” she drawled, kissing his ear in the process.

  He easily shook her off, and the expression on his face was cool and unaffected. “That’s ’cause I’ve been busy.”

  She pouted some more, which made her look like a disfigured Barbie. “What about me, Chase? You wanna buy me
a drink?” The girl glared at me, but I wasn’t going to let myself get flustered. I felt like I’d been granted entry to an exclusive federation, and I was on top of the world. I raised my beer bottle in salutation to the girl, but she ignored me.

  “Nah, I don’t think so, Shari. The way you smell, seems like you’ve had enough.” Chase smiled, as if to add insult to injury.

  She screeched and gave Chase a shove, but he didn’t budge. “You fucking bastard!” she screamed, before stumbling off to the back of the bar with her friend.

  “That was mean,” I chided him as we walked back to the table.

  “She’ll get over it. Besides, I was just kidding.”

  As we walked back to the table, I noticed various pairs of eyes—mostly girls’—on us. I tried to ignore them, but as everyone at the table went back and forth from the bar with beverages in red plastic cups, I noticed it was getting more and more crowded. The majority of people seemed to be shooting hostile glimpses in our general direction.

  “What’s with the evil eye?” I said to Rowena at some point.

  “It’s all directed at Chase,” she responded. “Girls he’s hooked up with, and their boyfriends, who still hold grudges against him for offending their oh-so-fragile manhood. It’s mainly empty mad-dogging, though. Chase is pretty respected around here.”

  I was tempted to ask Rowena more about Chase’s tawdry reputation but decided to refrain. After all, I was here for one reason and one reason only: to get further insight into Chase’s creative process and let him know I was a trustworthy ally.

  I could hear Chase speaking animatedly to his friends, so I turned to them.

  Entropy was saying, “Tunnels are so heavily guarded that hitting ’em up is just fucking stupid. I mean, it’s a felony these days. And people think you’re a terrorist if they see you: Suspicious men with backpacks spotted entering the tunnels. Call the bomb squad!”

  Chase was grinning deviously. “That never stopped us before.” He glanced over at me. “Besides, I promised Annie a good time. So we’re gonna show her how it’s done, South Bronx–style!”

  I was dumbfounded. “We’re . . . hanging out in a subway tunnel? I don’t get it.”

  Nobody really stopped to explain. They all just stooped to gather their stuff, as the music had become so loud that it was hard to hear anyone over the hubbub. Chase grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the bar, sidestepping hulking guys and jilted-looking girls. I was glad to get out of there, and the cold night air was a welcome sensation.

  “Where are we going, Chase?” I asked, as the six of us made our way briskly down the dark street.

  “We’re heading to the Harlem tunnel,” he said, not looking at me as he took a drag off his cigarette.

  “Wait . . . we’re heading back to Manhattan?”

  He smiled. “Nope. I didn’t say we were catching the train.”

  I could feel myself wilt. So this was the secret mission Chase had in mind? An excursion to one of the local subway tunnels? “No way,” I said firmly. “I’ve heard that’s really dangerous.”

  He shrugged. “Yeah, but it’s the quarter moon. I’m obligated. Besides, there’s a bunch of cops out on the streets tonight because of some gang activity up by Mott Haven. There’s six of us, and we’ll be way less conspicuous in the tunnels.”

  “Someone said it was a felony!” I protested.

  He flicked the remnants of his cigarette. “So? Haven’t been caught yet. Besides, you need to see this stuff. It’s an underground labyrinth, and it’s got some of the best writing in the city.”

  “It’s like the fucking Egyptian pyramids!” Reynaldo said excitedly. “But our hieroglyphics are better.”

  I had a bad feeling about the whole thing, but I had to admit there was a part of me that was intrigued by it as well. I’d met a few people who’d done some urban spelunking down city storm drains, and while it definitely didn’t sound like my cup of tea, the idea of going down into the underworld was kind of cool, at least from an archaeological perspective.

  This is research, Annie, that’s all, I told myself. And if the police did in fact catch us, maybe the fact that I was a pretty, innocent-looking NYU student would make it all go over fairly well.

  I took a deep breath and girded my loins as we walked down to the station. It was already well after midnight, and there were no attendants on hand. Everyone jumped the turnstiles, even Rowena, but I swiped my MetroCard before stepping through.

  As we made our way to the subway, I couldn’t hear anything except the distant sound of wind swirling through the tunnels. My heart began to pound uncontrollably as I looked down into the bowels of the train tracks. I had no idea how we were going to traverse them.

  “I have flashlights.” Rowena grinned at me and pointed at her backpack. “And water. I grew up in Compton, California, so I’m all about safety—whether that means preparing an earthquake kit or making sure you don’t get carjacked.”

  I smiled, not sure if she was joking or earnest. I was a bit embarrassed that my anxiety was written so plainly across my face, but there it was. “Thanks,” I said gratefully. “I’ve never done this before,” I explained.

  “No shit? I would’ve thought you were a seasoned bomber,” she quipped, smiling. “It isn’t that bad,” she continued. “Besides, at this station, there’s one train that comes on the hour, and it just came through, so we have plenty of time to get in and out. There’s a lot of little detours and abandoned stations up in here, so it’s kind of like exploring a hidden civilization. You’ll feel like Indiana Jones.”

  I laughed. “Hopefully without the spiky walls or rats.”

  “Well, it is New York, so there’ll be rats.”

  I shivered at her words. Chase came up to me and put his arm around me. His breath in my hair was warm, sweet, and somewhat minty. “I’m glad you decided to come, Goldilocks,” he whispered in my ear, “’cause you’re really in for a treat. We’re risking ourselves here, legally and artistically. There’s no better rush I can think of.”

  I could feel my cheeks get pinker and my palms get sweatier, but I pretended to act cool. “We’ll see about that, Chase Adams,” I said, meeting his gaze.

  Reynaldo looked at us and made a gagging sound. “Civilians only slow us down, yo,” he whined. “Just ’cause she’s a hot blonde and all doesn’t mean she gets to come with us.”

  “Annie goes wherever we go,” Chase said frostily, which shut his friend up. He grabbed my hand. “It’s not hard. Just a little jump down, and we’re on the track.” He pointed off into the darkness. “About thirty feet in is the path to the abandoned station we’re hitting up. From there, it’s only about a ten-minute trek.”

  “Trek? Should I have brought different shoes?” I asked, only half kidding.

  My stomach was in knots as each of them, one by one, dropped down into the subway and loped off into the distance. Chase was last, and he looked up at me expectantly. “You coming?”

  I nodded and grabbed his hand, which he was holding out to me.

  As we made our way into the tunnel, I shivered and rubbed my arms. It was cold and damp, and only a few flickering ENTER and EXIT lights were around for illumination. I was afraid I would lose my bearings and fall, but Chase was right next to me.

  “What if someone sees us?” I whispered.

  “You don’t have to whisper. You saw for yourself. There’s nobody around.”

  “But what if a train comes by?”

  “We already checked the schedule. We’re running a pretty tight ship here, me and my crew, so don’t even worry about it.” I couldn’t tell if Chase was annoyed by my vigilance or not, so I fell into silence as we walked in single file along the narrow walkway next to the tracks. I could see Rowena’s flashlight swinging back and forth like a miner’s head lantern. And that’s exactly how I felt—a miner venturing into places where normal people wouldn’t dare tread. I was a little claustrophobic, and the tightening walls and musty smell conjured unpleasant visions o
f rubble avalanches.

  Chase spoke, and his voice echoed a little. “Some of these lost stops can actually be seen when you’re on a train,” he said. “You can barely make out the graffiti as you’re hurtling by, but if you look closely, you can see the markers of a fearless bomber. All you need to know is where you are, and you’ll find them.”

  Entropy, who was ahead of me, concurred. “The most fascinating aspect of New York City is its underground places. Think about it. We have the oldest subway system in the world, so there’s a shitload of weird stuff down here. Abandoned stations, platforms, different levels. Some people think crime bosses dumped bodies here.”

  “I prefer to think we’re gonna run into buried treasure, not skeletons,” Z said.

  “What’s the matter? Chickenshit?” Reynaldo jeered.

  Chase and his friends started to rag on each other, and their voices bounced off the mottled brick walls, but I was almost enjoying myself. It was weird to think we were taking an underground tour that was right in the vicinity of stations and platforms that thousands of people traveled by on any given day. But how many could say they’d been down here?

  As we made our way along the tracks and onto a narrow ledge below a wall of crumbling brick, I could hear rats skittering alongside me. Reflexively, I grabbed Chase’s arm. “Sorry,” I mumbled.

  “It’s okay, Goldilocks. You’re doing fine,” he offered. “We just need to crawl through this space, but we’ll be there in no time.”

  Crawl? I groaned. Just what I needed: a crawl space full of rats.

  I stooped down so I was on my belly and made my way through the narrow archway, right behind Rowena. I groaned again as I thought about what my dress would look like by the end of this subterranean adventure—I doubted a trip to the dry cleaner would be enough to restore it to its previous glory. I could see an incandescent light a few feet off in the distance, thank goodness. I edged along the cold and slightly slimy concrete, trying to keep my eyes trained on the blue light ahead of me. As I made my way off my knees, I could feel Chase’s body slightly behind and his hand posed almost protectively on the small of my back, which made me feel steady and confident, even as I also felt an intense bolt of electricity coursing through my body at his touch.