by Giselle Fox
Candy smoothed her bangs out of her eyes and watched me fumble with my words. “We’ve known each other for a while, why?”
I looked around the elevator as if one of the ads on the walls might help me come up with a less obvious way to ask. “I guess I was just wondering what kind of a friend he was,” I said. I held my breath and waited for the response.
A grin curled Candy’s lips. “He’s just a friend.”
I exhaled. “I see. Okay.”
Candy’s eyes watched me. “What kind of a friend are you, Rocky?”
The elevator door opened suddenly. I looked up and realized we’d already arrived on the fifth floor.
“Uh... my stop,” I said and held the door open.
Candy took a step toward me. “Do you think I could take you for lunch tomorrow? Maybe we could go to Hiro’s, I hear they have excellent raw fish.”
“You want to take me out?” I asked. I felt a smile spread across my face.
“Yeah, I really do,” she said as she stared at my mouth.
“Okay, how about 1 pm.”
“Should I meet you at the shop?” she asked.
I nodded. “Yeah, that sounds perfect.”
“Okay,” she grinned.
“Um… goodnight,” I said.
“Thanks for the ride,” she said back.
I let the elevator door go and watched as it slid closed. I stood there for a few seconds after and then pinched myself. Then I heard Skip whine behind my door down the hall. No, I thought to myself, I am definitely awake.
***
I sat back on the couch in my living room and stared through the big window at the mountains. I could see the band of highway that we’d just ridden on. I could see the lights of the industrial buildings we’d passed and wondered if that deer had found its way safely home. I felt the place on my thigh where Candy’s hand had been. I remembered the warmth of her hands curled into my pockets and how it felt to have her pressed against my back. I closed my eyes when my body rushed with the visceral memory of her legs wrapped around me. I wondered what she was doing at that very moment; whether she was trying to relive the closeness like I was or whether it had even been noticed.
What kind of friend are you, Rocky?
I played the question over in my mind. What was I? A mentor, a friend, someone who was way off base? Sure, she was flirting but maybe that was just her way. Was I so desperate that I’d misread her intention? I really couldn’t tell anymore.
What kind of friend are you, Rocky?
I could hear her voice clearly in my head. I could see her blue-gray eyes. I went to my work table and pulled another piece of cardboard from the rack.
The wind had picked up when Skip and I finally went outside. Leaves and debris tumbled down the empty street. I could see a few sporadic cars drive past down on Main Street. The gusting wind had made Skip nervous. Maybe too many sounds and smells all at once. A bottle rocket went off in the distance, leftovers from Halloween. Skip hated sudden sounds and often would want to turn around and go home. I could tell when he looked up at me that he was on the edge but we were almost at the wall. I bent down and reassured him. He tucked his body into my coat and I kissed the top of his head.
“You’re okay buddy. We’re almost there.”
He sighed and then walked on, then he stopped for a pee against a pole. He looked up at me and continued forward. If he’d pulled me back toward home, I would have let him.
The wind was kicking up debris in swirling tornadoes around the old building. Clouds covered any moon that may have lit our way. We had traveled that dark path enough times to know exactly where we were going. I climbed up to where I’d written my last burning question and painted another for the genie of the wall.
What kind of friend are you?
I folded the cardboard and stuffed it into a plastic bag for the walk home. I made a mental note to pick up more gold paint. Skip pulled us home quickly. His ears were alert for sounds hidden within the wind. We were happy when we were back home. We curled up together on the shag rug in front of the fire while it whistled outside.
CHAPTER EIGHT
When I looked outside the next morning, the world was socked in with clouds. They were big and heavy and filled with rain. I really hoped the truck I was going to look at that weekend would work out because the last of the good weather was behind me. The streets were wet from an early morning shower. I put Skip’s raincoat on him and we swung by the wall to snap some quick photos before heading to the dog park.
I could see it right away even before I’d pulled over, the pink lines of letters that ran under my newest burning question. I hopped off the bike while Skip stayed put and watched me from the curb.
What kind of friend are you?
The kind that wants to ride with you.
The kind that wants to ride you.
Pink paint? Riding? Was it just a crazy coincidence? I snapped about twenty pictures as if more would help me figure it out. I felt the pangs of nerves roll around inside my gut as if I’d drank too much coffee. Pink paint, I thought to myself again.
I tucked my camera safely inside its case and climbed back on the bike. “Want to go to the park?” I asked Skip.
He sneezed and gave me a cold nose kiss in response.
“Okay, buddy. Let’s do it.”
***
The tricky thing about having a secret graffiti obsession is that you can’t talk to anyone about it. But Shep knew me well enough to know when something was distracting me.
“How did the ride home go?” he asked.
“Interesting,” I said slowly. “Very interesting.”
“Okay,” he said and went back into his office. His head popped in my door again a few minutes later. “How interesting?”
I looked up. “She asked me out to lunch.”
Shep smiled. “Well well. That is interesting!”
“I asked about the guy and she told me he was just a friend.”
“So this is all working out quite nicely then.”
“Yeah,” I said.
“You don’t sound convinced.”
I shook my head. “I’m still not sure what to think. There’s a lot of questions. We’ll see how lunch goes.”
“Yeah sure,” Shep grinned. “See how lunch goes.”
“Right,” I said.
“What time?” he called as he walked back to his office.
“Around one,” I called back.
“Okay. That leaves you a few hours to get me Eleven Sun’s artwork.”
“Right,” I said and started scrambling through the paperwork on my desk for a clue as to what that was.
“It’s on your calendar,” he called.
“Yep, got it,” I said even though I didn’t really have it at all.
“You have started it right?”
“Yep,” which in this case meant that I’d seen it at some point and completely forgotten about it. “I’ll do it right now,” I said and popped my headphones on.
Okay, maybe I’d been a little distracted. I’d spent the morning working at my desk like a good little artist and tried to come up with the right girl for the job. I’d mashed my pin-up style with anime. I’d stared at my wall of inspiration, at the photo collage I’d made of LadyMax’s street art that usually energized my creative flow. I had Eleven Sun’s album rocking my headphones to get the vibe. I knew the color palette. But the girl... who was she?
I closed my eyes and started imagining her. She was curvy with a look in her eye that said everything about her attitude. She stood tall and defiant with her hands on her hips. There was someone else at her feet looking up at her. I sketched a few lines onto my notebook and quickly got the rough outline of the scene. A classic triangle.
I had her in my mind. This woman, a pillar of feminine strength, an angel of deliverance, standing and staring directly at the viewer with her head at a slight angle. Come on, she said. I’m right here. Her foot was up on a miniature wall of amps. The length of
her calf flexed in the forefront of the picture. Peeking beneath the hem of her skirt were stockings and garters.
“Wait a second,” I blurted out loud and ripped off my headphones. Garage rock played loudly through them as they skidded across my desk.
I looked down at the drawing again and smacked myself in the head. Short of giving her pink and platinum hair, it was Candy.
“Oh for shit sake!” I said and threw the book down.
“Everything okay in there?” Shep called. “You’re talking to yourself louder than normal.”
“Sorry, I had the headphones on,” I said. Shep was used to my artist antics. I didn’t talk to myself as much as coach while my hand translated the images in my brain. Once I had it down on paper, I went into another mode that he called the Rocky-nator, where I swore and banged things in my office around a lot.
“It’s all good,” I said.
“How good? Is it a keeper?”
“Um...,” was all I said as I looked down at the drawing. “It has… potential.”
Shep was at the door. “Let me see.”
I handed him the notebook and he studied the page for a few moments. I wondered if he’d notice the resemblance.
“You’re smitten,” he said and handed back the pad. “It’s good, though. Maybe just change the face a little. Or get her to sign a waiver, your choice.”
I sat back in my chair and groaned.
“It’s 11 am. Are you going to make it until one?” he asked.
“I’ll make it,” I said trying to sound as if lunch with Candy was the furthest thing from my mind.
“You know, as much as I want you to have a really good time...”
“I know, I know.” I sat back in my chair.
“There’s definitely heat between you two.”
“I know.”
“My only concern is that... how should I say this?... it’s obvious she has a bit of a hero-worship thing going on. Not that there is anything wrong with that. It’s just... maybe not the best foundation for a relationship. There’s nowhere to go but down… and I don’t mean that in the lesbian way.”
“Relationship?” I said and shook my head, “now we’re getting ahead of ourselves.”
“Right,” Shep said. “Just be careful. But, you know, have fun.”
When I got back from taking Skip for his lunch time run, Candy was already sitting in the waiting area of the shop. I could see her through the big front window before she saw me. Skip ran ahead to the door and barked. When she turned around, a huge smile spread over her beautiful face. That thing happened again. I felt a rush in my chest like the air had simultaneously been squeezed from and expanded all at once. I grabbed for the handle of the door but missed. Then I reached for it again and managed to pull it open.
Skip rushed in to greet her as if she was his long lost buddy that he hadn’t seen in years. He was even whining, something he saved for his closest human companions, me, Shep and my mother who fed him anything he wanted.
“Alright, you’re going to make her all hairy again,” I said and held his collar. I looked up at her. “Hi.”
“Hi,” she said back. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ears and smoothed her dress with her hand.
“You look... really nice,” I said. Really nice wasn’t the first thing that had come to mind but fucking sexy seemed a bit forward for a lunch date. She wore a short, tight black dress with high heeled boots that clung to her calves. On the top, she had a vintage black leather bomber with cyan blue patches at the shoulders and elbows. Her hair was pulled back and up into a retro beehive with a few strands of pink pulled down that curled around her cheekbones. I realized my mouth was open as I took it all in. “You look really nice,” I said.
I heard Shep sigh behind me. When I glanced back at him standing behind the counter, his face was in his palm. “Shit, I said that already didn’t I?”
“You did. But now it’s twice as nice,” Candy said softly. We stood there a few seconds without saying a word. She seemed to be checking me out, so I stood there and let her while I tried to read the look on her face. “I’m early,” she said at last.
Skip was sitting at my feet expectantly. “I’m just going to give him his treat and then... we can go.”
“Sure,” she said.
I didn’t expect her to follow me back to my office but she did. Skip ran ahead to his water dish. When we were all in my office, I pulled a chewy from Skip’s treat bag on the hook and tossed it to him. “Be good,” I said.
Candy was beside me. She seemed shy and nervous, which was a relief because so was I. I couldn’t look at her without smiling and I was worried that I’d started to sweat under my black pea coat.
“It’s hot in here again,” she said softly. She reached her hand to the unbuttoned edge of my coat. Her eyes slid up my torso and rested on my mouth before meeting my eyes. “You look really nice too,” she whispered.
Okay, it had all gotten to be a bit much. Any other time or year I would have kissed her, I swear. But something held me back. Something insidiously rational, even though all signs were pointing to abandoning logic and diving in. I took a step back from her. “Should we go?”
Candy nodded but then something on my desk caught her eye and she stopped. She focused on the sketch I’d done of her. Her eyebrow arched. “I like it. You should use that.”
“It’s, uh...” I said but there was no way to explain it. I felt her hand brush mine and we both headed for the front door. As I held it open for her, I caught the flash of pink paint on the toe of her black boot. I stopped suddenly and stared down at it as she watched me.
“I’ve been painting a stool that I found. I got some on my boot last night.”
There was something else behind her smile. I could tell she was playing with me. We walked out along the street.
“What kind of paint were you using?” I asked.
“An acrylic,” she said simply.
I swallowed. “Spray paint?”
“Yes, actually. How did you know?”
“Just a wild guess,” I said. I wasn’t sure what she was up to. It was obviously her that put the message on the wall unless I’d imagined the whole thing. No, not possible, I thought to myself. But we said nothing more about it as we walked down the street toward Hiro’s.
We sat down at a booth and Candy peeled off her jacket. “Thanks again for the ride last night. It was a lot of fun,” she said.
“You’re welcome. Anytime.”
“You know, riding an old bike with a sidecar has been on my bucket list.”
I pulled off my pea coat and tucked it on the bench beside me. “Really?”
She nodded. “Though I guess I always imagined riding inside the sidecar. I liked it better the way we did it, though.”
“What else is on your bucket list?”
“Oh, lots of things,” she said cagily.
“Travel? Skydiving?” I prompted.
“I’ve already skydived,” she said. “It scared the wits out of me. Once was enough.”
“You couldn’t get me to jump out of a plane,” I said. “Someone would have to push.”
“Yeah, that’s how I felt once I was up in the air, but I was strapped to the guide and had no choice.”
“Bungee jumping?”
“Did it. Topless even,” she grinned.
“No!”
“I did. It was a birthday party, we all took our shirts off. It was hilarious, actually. Boobs flopping and everyone screaming.”
That was an interesting image that I had a hard time wiping from my mind. “What else?”
Candy grinned and played with her water glass. “There are certain people that I’ve always wanted to meet. One in particular. I got to cross that off recently.” She grinned at me.
“Me?”
“Yeah you,” she said and leaned back against the padding of the booth. She looked at me with an amused smile. “You’re not at all how I expected you to be.”
“Oh dear,�
�� I said. “That could be a good or bad thing.”
“Well, we’re having lunch together so it’s probably not that bad,” she said and clinked her water glass against mine.
“I suppose that’s true.”
“I thought you’d be tougher, more reserved, more aloof. You’re never smiling in your pictures.”
“What pictures?”
“Pictures I’ve seen of you. There are lots out there.”
I nodded my head. “The Internet.”
“The Internet,” she repeated, “and some books.”
“Well,” I said and looked down at my hands.
“There are lots of things on my bucket list. I figure I should start early so I have time to get everything in.”
“Life moves quickly,” I said.
“It hasn’t for you.”
“Oh, it has.”
“It doesn’t look like it has, how about that?”
I studied her young face for a moment. “Okay... I have to ask you something since I can’t stop thinking about it.”
She stared me in the eye. “You want to know how old I am.”
“Yes, I do.”
She didn’t answer, she only smiled.
“Did you take time off before you went to art school?” I asked.
“I took time off before and after,” she said without blinking. “Do you feel better now?”
I sat forward in my seat. The difference between us was still big, but perhaps not as big as I’d thought. I grabbed my napkin and began to play with it. “So, what did you do before art school?”
“I traveled to Southeast Asia and then India.”
“Nice. I loved it there,” I said. “I’ve always wanted to go back.”
“Me too,” she said.
I played with my napkin a bit more while Candy watched me. Eventually, I folded it into a little origami swan. “Can I keep it?” she asked.
“Sure, if you want.”
“I have a scrapbook for my bucket list.”
“Cute,” I said. I imagined her in pigtails flipping through the pages and pasting it in. The image gave me pause. “Okay,” I muttered to myself.
“What?”
“Nothing,” I smiled. “I just remembered I had to remember something.”
