“Did the teacher let you give the answers aloud?” his mom asked him.
“Yeah, thanks for talking to her, Ma. I knew it all, but I get confused when I have to read.” Ridge sat back into the couch comfortably.
“I know you do. Which reminds me. Your reading tutor cancelled tomorrow and rescheduled for Monday.” She told him, flattening out his test and setting it on the coffee table. Damn. Ridge had it made. I fought off the jealousy and instead focused on how proud I was of him and of the Jackson’s. I focused on why I came by today.
I leaned over and pulled out the envelope from my back pocket clearing my throat. “I wanted to drop this off.” I handed the wrinkled enveloped over to Mrs. Jackson.
“Looks like someone else needs a folder.” She smiled, but words that she meant to be a harmless tease cut through my chest.
I busied myself picking imaginary lint from my pants as she tore it open. I grimaced when I heard the gasp.
“Wes,” she whispered, and I glanced up to see her holding her hand over her mouth. “What is this?”
“It’s from the Classic Car show fundraiser, Mrs. Jackson. I talked with all the guys, and they agreed with me that it should go to you,” I explained and a sob escaped her.
Ridge leaped from his seat to her side and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “What is it, Ma?” he asked, and she silently showed him the check.
“Whoa,” he whispered.
“I know it’s not a lot,” I explained, “but I was hoping it would help get you set up with everything. Clothes, college fund, tutoring, whatever you need.” Mrs. Jackson’s hand shot up in the air to quiet me.
“This is amazing, that you would do this for Ridge, and for us? This is more than enough, Weston.” She stood up and set the check down on the table before coming over and pulling me up into a stiff hug. “Thank you,” she whispered and squeezed tighter.
I sighed into the hug. “No, thank you,” I whispered back.
Dizzy, like I was spinning and couldn’t get my footing right. That was how I felt every time I left the Jacksons’ house. When I was there, I looked around and I was thankful that Ridge had such awesome parents who got him things like folders and tutors. Hopefully, his tutor was hot with a pencil in her hair. The kid deserved that. He deserved the cookies and the table with his school picture on it. So if I was stoked for him, why did I feel like I ate one too many California burritos?
Usually when I felt this way, I headed to Blue’s house, the shop, or August’s place. I guess I should start calling it August and Kensie’s place. It had been completely chickified with flowery pillows on the couch and candles that smelled like Christmas. I was still completely confused about why Kensie yelled at me for using the towels that were hanging in the bathroom. It was not like I jizzed on them. I guess I did touch my junk and then the towel, but there was a quick pass of water between the two so I just didn’t understand it, but I digressed.
Tonight, for some reason, I drove straight to Capri’s house. The only thing that seemed to subside the burning in my chest was when I thought about seeing her. So here I was in her driveway, flicking my headlights.
A few months ago, I only thought of Capri when I saw her. Like, ‘oh hey, there’s Capri.’ When August started seeing Kensie and Capri was around more, I naturally started to think of her more often. Like, before we’d meet at Tommy’s, I’d try on a few shirts and wonder which one she’d like best. Or, when one of my regulars gave me a B.J., I’d imagine it was Capri instead. Little things like that. Now though, fuck, now she was all I thought of.
The porch light flicked on. I tapped the steering wheel with my hands. Then the door creeped open slowly. A ray of light slipped through the crack, and then illuminated the figure in the doorway, like an angel.
With one step, the figure emerged from the light. Oh, fuck. I ducked under the dash. When did he get home? I clenched my eyes shut willing him to go back into the house. A few seconds passed, and then a solid knock hit my window.
I groaned and peeked up. Mr. Hunter stood with his arms crossed over his chest. I sighed and rolled down my window.
“Weston.”
“Mr. Hunter.”
“It’s Steve, Wes. I assume you are here looking for my daughter.”
“Yes, Mr. Hunter.” I nodded and sat up a little straighter.
He sighed. “When did you decide to start calling me Mr. Hunter?”
“Since I started having impure thoughts about your daughter,” I blurted out.
He didn’t say anything.
I didn’t say anything.
Crickets didn’t say anything. Say something, crickets!
“So, I’m guessing she’s not home?” I asked manning up to the crickets.
“No, Wes. She’s at August’s house watching a movie with Kensie.”
“Thank you, Mr. Hunter.” I nodded. “I’ll try there.” I reached down to crank my window up when his hand slammed onto the glass, holding it in place.
“And Wes? You’re like a son to me, but you break my baby girl’s heart and I’ll break those pretty, colorful arms. We clear?”
I nodded. “Yes, sir,” I agreed, and he dropped his hand from the glass. I rolled that window up as fast as I could and peaced out of that driveway. Mr. Hunter was clearly going to be a tough sell. I’d have to send him a fruit basket or something.
Round two. I knocked on August’s door impatiently. My need to see Capri had increased tenfold. I needed to see her smile shyly at me when she didn’t want to and hear her laugh freely with me because no one was around. I needed to hold her in my arms and kiss her until my feet steadied on the ground.
I held my ear to the door and listened closely. I could hear the drone of the movie the girls were watching, so I knew they were in there. I used to help myself into August’s house with his spare not-so-hidden key, but after his ex, Bree, paid Kensie a surprise visit with that key, he’d removed it.
I raised my hand to knock on the door again, when it flew open. “Oh hey, dude,” I said stuffing my hands into my pockets.
“Wes,” August said walking away from the door and leaving it open for me. “Let’s go out to the garage. The girls are watching a chick flick,” he called behind him.
“I’m actually not here to see you, dude,” I said stepping cautiously into the house. I immediately spotted Capri curled up in the chair and breathed in relief.
She sat up quickly and straightened out her hair. “Wes?” she shrieked a little loud.
“Hey, C,” I said fiddling with a piece of lint in the bottom of my pocket.
“What are you doing here?” she asked with her eyes round and cheeks stained red. Gorgeous.
“I came to see you,” I said.
“What the hell?” August said from the kitchen. I looked at him and shrugged. I couldn’t accurately explain to him why I’d sought out his sister in the middle of the night, but he had to understand the desperation of wanting to see your girl. My head shot back to Capri. My girl.
My. Girl.
My. Girl.
My girl.
My girl, My girl, My girl.
“Fuck, it’s hot in here, dude,” I said and stepped quickly back outside. I put my hands above my head and paced back and forth in front of the door. Then I heard the quiet click of it shutting.
“Wes.” Her voice was so soft; I could barely hear it above the racket in my head. I dropped my arms to my side and blew out a puff of air through my lips.
She walked slowly up to me and took one of my hands in her own. “Hi,” she said shyly. I rubbed across her fingers with my thumb. “Hey, baby.” My girl. She’d either ruined me or made me. Depended on how you looked at things.
Then she brought her other hand up around my neck and pulled me down toward her, meeting my lips with hers. She kissed me softly and sweetly. I’d never in my life been kissed like this, with such care. I sighed into her mouth and gripped her face in my hands, deepening the kiss. This was what I’d needed. She was what I neede
d.
Much like how I’d gone to bed the last few nights, I’d woken up with a smile. Not much had progressed with Wes and me since he’d shown up at August’s to see me, but at the same time, everything had changed.
Wes and I still only saw each other when we were at the youth center, but now we spent the time between brushstrokes stealing kisses. I still painted him at night, but now his sweet texts and quick phone calls interrupted me. My last text was this morning when he told me to have fun with the boys. I’d replied that I would since the most troublesome of the three would be absent today.
Wes told me a few days ago that he wouldn’t make it in today. He had a meeting at the shop that was going to take up most of the day, so I was on my own with Jordan and Ridge. This could either go amazing or be a complete disaster.
“Good morning, Ms. C.” Ridge strolled in with a familiar swagger holding out a large coffee toward me. So far, amazing.
“Thank you,” I said taking the coffee.
“Oh, it’s not from me. My dad and I had breakfast with Wes, and he sent it with me for you.” Ridge tossed his backpack to its place by the door.
I smiled bringing the warm cup to my mouth but stopped when I saw words scratched onto the side. I held it up and read ‘I hope your day is as tight as your ass.’ Then I snorted. Coffee and a compliment—that was how every woman deserved to start her day.
Almost immediately after Ridge had arrived, Jordan showed. He dragged his feet through the door mumbling under his breath and chucked his bag next to Ridge’s. If that didn’t give away his mood, the fact that his brows were furrowed clear down to his upper lip was a good indication that he was not having the best of mornings.
“Whelp, we’re out of blue paint so hold off on the rest of the water for now, but other than that, the mural is yours.” I opened my hand to the wall, welcoming them to get started.
Each boy began readying his supplies; pouring paint into cups, loosening the brush bristles, and laying out drop cloths. Ridge immediately got to work on the design he had been doing last time. Jordan, however, seemed to be struggling with where to get started.
He dipped his brush into the paint, swirled it, then pulled the brush out and watched it fall from the bristles back into the cup. He did this a number of times before I recognized what was going on.
Just this past New Year’s Eve, the five of us dressed up and went downtown for the night. I stupidly took extra care to try to make myself look just like all the girls I’d watched Wes with over the years. My sequin dress was too mini, the curls of my hair were too big, and my stiletto’s were too high. It worked, though.
I had gotten Wes’ attention and held it almost the whole night, right up until ten minutes till midnight. That was when Wes found me on the dance floor, wrapping his arms around me from behind and moved us rhythmically to the music. When he moved away from me, I turned to face him and found him tangled up with someone else. Another girl. I was just another girl.
I caught a cab shortly thereafter and retreated to my room to paint. The problem was that I couldn’t. I couldn’t own up to that fact I had brought that humiliation onto myself. I didn’t want to accept that Wes would never see me how I wished he would.
“You stuck?” I asked Jordan practically tippy toeing up to him.
“Huh?” he replied but didn’t take his eyes away from the brush.
“I do that sometimes too, you know,” I said turning to look at the mural. For some reason, I thought he’d open up more if I pretended my focus wasn’t entirely on him.
“Do what?” He let the brush go, dropping it into the paint cup.
“I get my drive stuck behind my emotions,” I said peeking over at him out of the corner of my eye.
“What do you mean?” he asked bringing his brows up a smidge. Progress.
“Sometimes life gets in the way. Sometimes it plants itself right in the middle of my purpose. Sometimes life makes my heart bigger than my will, and in those moments, I get stuck. I get stuck behind how I feel, and I have a hard time moving toward what I want.”
“You lost me at life,” Jordan said, and I turned to him laughing.
“Life sucks sometimes.” I put my hands in the air, and Jordan cracked a smile nodding in agreement. “And when it does, it’s hard to do what we love, like paint.” I pointed at his cup.
“For real.” He kept nodding, so I kept talking.
“When I feel like that, I try to allow myself to put those emotions into my art. For some people, it’s not a choice. They naturally paint how they feel, but for others like me, we have to give ourselves permission to let it out.”
Jordan pulled the paintbrush from the cup again and watched the paint drip back into it before swiping the bristles against the rim.
“So you’re saying that I should paint my brother just got arrested for selling dope all over this thing?” Whoa.
“Not that exactly,” I said scrunching up my nose and twisting my lips. “I don’t think that’s what August had in mind, anyway.” Jordan let loose a single laugh. “I do think you should let go of some of the things your brother’s arrest makes you feel onto the mural, though. In color, shape, texture, whatever feels right.”
Jordan took a few careful steps to the wall. He looked up at the nearly finished surface and drew the brush from the cup once again. This time, he looked at the paint and watched it drip, but then slapped the brush against the wall. “Upset.”
He dipped the brush in again and pulled it right back out without a second glance, punching the wall with color. “Embarrassed,” he said a little louder, grabbing Ridge’s attention.
“Deserted.” Swipe.
“Angry.” Swipe.
“Sad.” Swipe.
“Damn, Ms. C,” Ridge whispered next to me.
“I know,” I said placing my hand over my heart.
Ridge and I watched Jordan as he let go on the mural, in a form of silent support. Watching him work through his hurt was both devastating and beautiful. I was so proud of him for allowing himself to feel, but at the same time, I was heartbroken that he had to experience such turmoil. Even still, I was thankful that I was there to help guide him through it.
“Can I come in?” I knocked on August’s office door before helping myself to the chair situated in front of his desk.
“Why’d you even ask?” He chuckled as he closed the bottom drawer of his desk.
The boys and I worked on the mural for around three hours this morning before Ridge’s mom came to pick them up. Thankfully, Jordan seemed to have worked to let go of some of what was holding him back and worked diligently for the rest of our time together. Still, I was shaken by what had occurred, mostly because of what he had revealed.
“Did you hear about Jordan’s brother?” I asked August. I knew he was close with Jordan from when he ran the sports classes in the gym.
“Yeah.” August huffed out and kicked back into his chair. “His mom called this morning to let me know. She said he was taking it really hard. I wanted to catch him before he left today, but I just missed him. How was he?” He sat forward and propped his elbows on his desk.
“Awful,” I said. August winced, his eyes closed. “But, I think painting helped. I mean, I talked with him a little, but after he started working on the mural, he really seemed to settle.”
“Good, good.” August nodded. “Thanks for being there for him. I worry about him, and I’m glad he had you there. You have the biggest heart, sis. He needed that today.” I smiled softly, taking my brother’s compliment.
“He did need that but not so much me being there as he needed his art to be there for him.” I clasped my hands together in my lap and fiddled with my fingers. “I was thinking,” I said, feeling ridiculously nervous about bringing up my idea to August. “After seeing how therapeutic painting was for Jordan, I think you should consider incorporating an art program here. Something they can do to both express their creativity and to escape.” I pushed myself back into my chair, letting
space ease my vulnerability.
August scrunched his face at me. “That’s a great idea, Capri.” He brought his arms out to his side. “We haven’t had the need for an art program yet, but it’s something to look into. I’ll check out what kind of funding is it out there for one,” he smiled at me.
“So, uh, speaking of the mural and all.” August leaned in toward me. “Whatsa or how’s…” He stumbled over his words, and I swayed a bit in my chair. My brother was a well-spoken guy, so his stumbling had me a little uneasy. “What the hell is going on with you and Wes?”
My back fell back into the chair. I should have expected he would ask at some point, but I wasn’t ready to be asked what was going on with us because, crap, I didn’t even know what was going on between us. I shrugged my shoulders and scrunched my nose.
“Oh, don’t give me that,” August said.
“I don’t know, August.” I shrugged again.
“Well, obviously you two are in the business of making out on your brother’s doorstep.” He gestured toward me.
“August!” I shrieked, feeling the explosion of color tint my face. “You watched?”
“Of course, I watched, Capri. My best friend flew into my house on a mission to see my baby sister. Then you chased after him all flustered, and Kensie immediately started grumbling about owing Lennon fifty bucks.” Oh, my crap.
“They bet on us?” I fell forward, thumping my forehead onto his desk.
“Seems that way.” August chuckled at my humiliation. Ugh.
“Look,” I said, lifting my head just enough to see August. “We’ve been spending a lot of time together, and we’ve gotten a little closer than we were before.” I let my head fall back down. This was so embarrassing.
“Clearly.” August laughed. “Capri, I don’t mean to embarrass you,” he said, and I looked up again pointing to the heat on my face. He smiled. “I just want to make sure you’re good. That he isn’t, you know, being Wes.” He raised his eyebrows at me expectantly.
Truth in Watercolors (Truth Series Book 2) Page 11
