Painted Passion

by Latisha Brandon

  He knew her chosen path took her to some pretty fierce places, but she always shied away from giving him the details. It was one more avenue of her life that she wouldn’t let him enter. Did she think so little of him? Did she think he couldn’t handle whatever she needed to reveal? Many of the scenes she’d witnessed thousand of miles away, he’d witnessed right on the streets of Philly and the time he spent behind bars.

  How could he ask her to stay? How could he let her go?

  Ashlyn looked at Kevin as she talked to William. Kevin was gorgeously golden. He worked hard and it showed. He made her hungry. His arms were folded behind his head, his eyes on the ceiling. A five o’clock shadow grazed his chin and cheeks. He appeared tired. Was it because of her?

  She didn’t feel like arguing, but an argument was about to ensue. “Make the plans. Get me on the earliest flight out of Philadelphia International Airport.” She gave the instructions, but where was her patent jubilation? Instead, she felt worn out.

  “So just like that, you decide to leave?” Kevin never moved, just lay there in the center of the bed. His pose was deceiving because he was actually wound tight.

  “Who’s that I hear in the background? Lenny, where are you?” William sounded perplexed.

  Ashlyn stood, trying to ignore Kevin. She wouldn’t say anything to Kevin while William was on the line. “William, I’ll call you back in an hour. We’ll make final plans then.”

  “I expect to hear from you in one hour! Time is of the utmost importance.” William wondered if Lenny was losing her touch. And who was the irate mysterious voice in the background?

  “No lectures, Willie. I know my role. One hour, no longer.” Ashlyn disconnected before he had a chance to say more. Very rarely did he or Bernie acknowledge her as boss. What she needed to do was throw a cell phone at one of them, like Naomi Campbell. She bet they would quiver with fear then, ducking and diving from sharp objects. William treated her like a rebellious son and Bernie treated her like a naïve sister. She watched Kevin get up.

  “How am I supposed to talk with you when you’re not even wearing clothes? How is it possible for us to have an unbiased adult conversation when your dick is flapping in the wind?”

  “I realize the sarcastic adult comment is an allusion to my age. We go to bed the same every night, so why should tonight be any different?” Kevin opened his dresser drawer and pulled out a pair of gray sweatpants. “Happy?” he asked, pulling them on. “I wouldn’t want my dick to be a distraction.”

  “Now of all times you decide to be childish?” Ashlyn was inflamed, angry with him for behaving in such an immature manner, and at herself for second-guessing her decision.

  “When are you going to let this go? Must every disagreement come down to a bogus difference in age argument? The paltry eight-year age difference for you is a safe stance. That way we never have to look at the bigger issue of how you hide yourself and only let me get so close. I have laid myself bare, but you only give so much,” Kevin said.

  “Placing my entire life on hold for you is far from paltry.”

  “I never asked you to put your life on hold. You act as if I asked you to choose between me, your career, family, and friends. I’ve found a way to merge all of them. You had my father and brother in the palm of your hand from the introduction. Vlad has great respect for you, even if you clash with his inner caveman. We share many of the same colleagues; it was only a matter of time before we eventually met. We view the world the same. We may capture and deliver the interpretation differently, but our view is still basically the same.”

  Kevin slowly walked to her side, ducking his head to catch her eyes. “You know how I feel about my family. My father and brother are all I have left. Are you truly bothered by how your family will view me?” It went against his pride to ask her this. He was highly intelligent, vastly successful, and in his past women had responded openly to him. So why was he worried about her family? He instantly knew that this time it counted.

  Ashlyn knew it was a fair question. His family had welcomed her, cast no judgment, but the problem was that her family lived by a different set of rules. They socialized within a small sphere made up of lifelong friends with similar backgrounds, and they expected their offspring to marry within that sphere. No matter how far she roamed, they still had the same expectations. She was expected to find someone within that sphere, a person her family highly regarded. Kevin would be compared to Frank and, in her family’s eyes, he would fall short of the mark.

  To her, there was no comparison. Kevin was genuine, and that was hard to come by. He didn’t lead her on; he valued her opinion and time; he never took her for granted. He cherished her. “I’m so afraid that you’ll judge me by my family. I love my parents and they mean well, but they come across as aloof.” She was being kind with the description.

  “I would describe you as the same way when we first met.”

  “That’s because I was frightened by my reaction to you.” Ashlyn began to undress, preparing for bed. William was the last person on her mind.

  “The real problem is your abrupt departure, and even glimpses of your delectable body won’t make me forget. You plan on leaving in the morning. Am I supposed to sit idly by while you charge off to God knows where without asking any questions?

  “I never said you couldn’t ask about my destination. But it should be phrased as a question, not a demand for an explanation. You browbeating me into seeing it from your point of view and speaking in a superior tone as if you know best is a sexist standpoint.” Ashlyn pulled her shirt off and hurled it at him.

  Kevin pulled the shirt off his head. “Thinking that it’s idiotic to let some old man live vicariously through you is sexist? Wanting to wake in the morning and set my eyes on you is sexist? Labeling me as sexist will never get me to stop expressing my viewpoint.” He folded her shirt and placed it beside his.

  “Please don’t ever judge my colleagues, because unlike you, I never claimed to reach where I am alone. I owe a lot to William.”

  Stunned by her accusation, he said, “I give plenty of credit to my mother and especially my father. You’re just lashing out because there’s a ring of truth to my statement.”

  “What truth, Kevin? Belittling a dear old man?” She knew Willie would have a stroke if he heard Ashlyn refer to him as a ‘dear old man’. “Capturing destruction in the world is my job. A job I do damn well, I might add.” Ashlyn finished undressing, then climbed between the sheets still heated by his body.

  Kevin reclined beside her, pulling her back to his front. “I don’t doubt your expertise, but the places you venture scare me.” His voice tickled her ear. His limber fingers played in her hair.

  She closed her eyes, enjoying his caress. “I could never see myself doing anything else. Do you understand?”

  “I comprehend the drive. But why now, when we’re finally defining our relationship?”

  “I guess I would rather walk away before you pushed me away or I found one sticking point to harp on because our future is uncertain.”

  “Ashlyn, I’m here, but I question if you are, at least fully. You’re still searching for a loophole. I don’t know what more I can do to prove myself.”

  “Kevin, you have nothing to prove.” She was the one who doubted if whatever this was could last. “Go to sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.”

  “On the way to the airport?”

  Ashlyn realized she was capable of hurting him; the trepidation wasn’t one-sided. She was constantly waiting for him to slip or make some type of drastic mistake, which was so unfair to him. For good or bad, she decided to stay. “I don’t need to go to the airport.” She would make the call early in the morning. She would for once take the time she needed to figure things out.

  “Just because I decided to stay doesn’t mean I give you leave to try and take advantage of me.” Ashlyn stilled his hand, which was circling her breast.

  “I always heard make-up sex is the best sex,” Kevin said, continu
ing his touch and flexing his hips into her backside.

  “Make-up sex will have to be delayed. We’re in your father’s house, after all.”

  “And?” he asked.

  “And I refuse to make love in your father’s house.”

  “Do you think he’s sleeping alone?” He still had to deal with his father and Zona. A multitude of factions in his life were moving at an alarming speed. When he got back to Philly he would pin his brother down and demand some answers.

  “I would rather not think about it.”

  “Just remember when we get home you promised me make-up sex.”

  * * *

  “His name is Kevin Zahir Dunmore. He’s twenty-five and a graduate of the University of Vermont. He made the dean’s list every semester. He grew up in Philadelphia, but graduated from Dover High School, in Delaware. He has a juvenile record, which was sealed, but of course there are ways to get around that…which I did. Dunmore was initially arrested for stealing a car and possession of marijuana. The charges were later dropped, but before that he spent a few months in juvenile detention.”

  Liam Farrell kept his face turned toward the two stories of book shelving. He waited for the voice to continue with the requested background check.

  “His parents were married, but his mother, Adara, died when he was fifteen. His father, Paul Andrew Dunmore, was a city cop, who later made detective. He resigned after his son was arrested. Dunmore has a younger brother named Aaron Alae Dunmore, who is a student at Temple University School of Medicine. Dunmore assists his brother by paying some of his tuition. He has also begun to pay back the college loans for a young man named Sherman Arthur Townsend.

  “Mr. Dunmore and Ms. Farrell are residing together in Philadelphia, in a loft he owns. He also owns the loft space adjacent to him. I have pictures if you’d like to see.” The speaker slid the envelope across the dark wooden desk. He continued to read while Ashlyn’s father perused the images of his ecstatically happy daughter and Kevin. “They spend a lot of time walking around the city, going to concerts, art shows, dining out, and recently Ms. Farrell met Dunmore’s father. His finances are in order. He makes a generous profit from his paintings, but the largest chunk of his income comes from a business he helped start while still in college.

  “He’s creative director of LDK Boarding, along with Lawrence and Derek Bigelow, who are brothers. They make skate, snow, and surf boards. The company has been going strong for over five years, with sizeable increases yearly. Dunmore’s father is Christian, but his mother was a Muslim, and her family still practices the faith. His mother’s family denies him and his brother. On the night of his arrest there was a confrontation with his grandfather.”

  Liam never turned from the photos. “Is he a practicing Muslim?”

  “I have pictures of him entering a mosque, but I also have pictures of him and Ms. Farrell attending mass. The first few times she went alone. He began to accompany her later.”

  At least she wasn’t discarding everything she was taught, her father thought.

  Liam held up a photo. “Who’s this?”

  “Vladimir Chekhov, a friend of Dunmore’s from college. I haven’t been able to pinpoint an exact residence; he spends his nights in random locations.” The investigator didn’t tell Farrell that Vladimir lived his life the way some men dreamed of living. He kept the report strictly professional. “From what I’ve been able to decipher, he’s a sculptor, but he also works as a bike messenger.”

  “Where were they going in this photo?”

  “Dunmore appears none too pleased because on that particular evening they were attending the opera. That’s the reason he’s in the tuxedo and she’s wearing the gown.”

  Liam smiled inwardly. His daughter seemed happier than he had seen her in a long time, especially after the debacle with Franklyn Tatum. Her mother had supported that relationship, and he could deny his wife nothing. He’d told Kathryn nothing about Kevin Dunmore. Liam couldn’t find fault with the young man. He possessed an enterprising spirit, which Liam respected. He seemed driven and hard working, the complete opposite of Frank, who sat back and leached off his parents, parents who believed their son could do no wrong.

  Ash had been unable to see how rotten he was, because at the time she had been starry-eyed over him. Frank was now in legal trouble, due to numerous fires he’d set in protest against the expansion of a resort in Northern California. His parents had come once again to the rescue, along with a powerful law firm. Frank, so far, had gotten community service. Liam really couldn’t blame his parents, because Frank wouldn’t have lasted twenty-four hours in jail.

  His daughter was hiding her relationship, and it was partially his fault. He’d witnessed the subtle changes in his wife over the years, her slow disconnect. He could still remember how, when they first married, certain friends turned on her. She’d been devastated, lost without a familiar touchstone. Childhood friends were gone. The same had happened to him, but he was able to rebound quickly. Kathryn was not.

  Ashlyn probably didn’t remember being called a mutt on a train in Chicago. She and her mother were returning from seeing The Nutcracker during the holiday break. Kathryn was more upset than Ash, who had no idea what was going on. Liam had not gone because at the last minute he was called away to Washington on business. He could not rightly say what he would have done at the time, but it probably wouldn’t have been pretty.

  He looked at another photo of Ashlyn. She and Kevin were in a park, and somehow she’d ended up on his back. The expression on her face was peaceful, contented. He wondered if she would ever feel comfortable enough to bring him home. Liam believed he was possibly looking at his future son-in-law. Kevin and Kathryn would clash, and he would see the Spencers as decadent. It had taken Liam years to grow accustomed to the utter frivolousness of Kathryn’s family. The word restraint didn’t exist in their dictionary.

  “There’s no longer a need for further reports or photos.” He indicated the pictures he held. “These will be the last. Discard the paper trail.” Now he needed only to calm his wife’s frazzled nerves and to give Ashlyn all the time she needed. She deserved the utmost in happiness, because never could a father be prouder of a child.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The trees were bare, their brittle branches snapping in the stiff breeze. Ashlyn adjusted the collar of her forest-green pea coat and tightened her colorful scarf. Thanksgiving was right around the corner and she’d decided to spend the holiday with Kevin’s family, which would also include Zona, Allison Jane, and Marcus. She’d headed off her aunt and uncle, her parents, Dawn, and Makayla by sending them emails about not going home for Thanksgiving. Surprisingly her parents seemed to have decided to give her the time she needed, the time she and Kevin needed.

  Dried leaves crunched under the flat heel of her knee-high caramel boots. She had been out walking and snapping photos for a few hours, getting acclimated to Philadelphia in late fall. Under a gray sky, pedestrians buzzed past her trying to escape the sharp wind, scattering debris and discarded newspapers. Ashlyn hurriedly snapped a socialite draped in a Fifth Avenue black fur coat as she left a posh boutique and got into a chauffeured car. In the background was a tagged and graffiti-adorned wall. The shot provided a sharp contrast between the monied and youthful rebellion.

  Ashlyn darted across the street, a part of the flow, letting her intuition lead her. She captured frame after frame, which she would develop in the storage room at Kevin’s that she had turned into an impromptu darkroom.

  He challenged her and made her laugh with his absurdly tidy ways. He was a fussbudget in a delectable package. She drove him insane burning candles and incense. He drove her insane with his duster and lemon dusting spray, cleaning between visits from his housekeeper.

  She loved old buildings; he saw them as musty and in need of repair. She cherished chaos; he cherished uniformity. She ate cherry tomatoes, grapes, nuts, and raisins constantly; he stuck to a strict schedule of three meals a day, never sna
cking in between. They were as opposite as night from day, but still they clung to one another.

  Ashlyn skipped along the cobblestone street, smiling as she greeted the doorman to Kevin’s building. Kevin was twenty-five and lived in one of the most sought-after buildings in Philadelphia. It was in a neighborhood called Society Hill, similar to Boston’s Beacon Hill. The floor-to-ceiling two-story windows in his loft boasted a magnificent view of Washington Square, an open park. She’d never asked how he managed to afford it, whether the sale of his paintings afforded it. The show she’d attended was his first public showing, and it was very successful, but still his first. So where did the extra revenue come from?

  When she read about him online, it simply listed him as one of the new millionaires under thirty. How was that possible? It seemed as if they were both holding back, waiting to reveal a huge surprise. She never asked what he was hiding, fearful he would ask about her secrets. When a courier came and collected sketches, she never asked where they were going. She gave him space when he pored over fact sheets for hours, making notations.

  She was witnessing his serious side­—the competent businessman—but what business? He seemed to have multiple balls in the air, but he never seemed stressed. She, on the other hand, was almost pulling out her hair over the downward spiral of the economy. Though she had trusted advisors, she worried about her nest egg.

  Ashlyn stepped out of the elevator and opened Kevin’s door with her key. The room was dark and lit by candlelight. A faint floral scent was in the air. What was he planning? Kevin detested candles, claiming they stained his fine wood finishes. At that moment she heard him walking down the stairs.

  He stood in the center of the room and extended his hand to her. “Dance with me.”

  “Kevin, I’ve told you in the past that I don’t dance. And if I ever do, I’ll need a few glasses of wine first. That way I’m more willing to embarrass myself.”