Chapter 9
Dalton
She definitely looked creeped out there for a bit, I told myself. I couldn’t believe I had described us as magnets. I swore to myself I just wouldn’t get coffee again that week, because I couldn’t risk running into her again. Somehow the questions she’d asked seemed so harmless, they’d loosened me up into almost revealing my dark truth. I needed to get a better mental lock on that box I kept under the ink above my heart. That lock needed to be impenetrable. I had people to answer to and if that box wasn’t locked, I could lose everything, and the only person I could blame for screwing that up would be myself. Why was Brittany someone who made me risk my second chance? I couldn’t believe I had even walked that far to the harbor and bought this cheap, ten-dollar painting.
Walking back from the harbor, I lifted the painting under my arm up above a trashcan sitting on the sidewalk outside of a pizza joint. Inside, the arguing of a young man and woman caught my ear. They couldn’t be older than twenty, and the guy was berating who I assumed was his girlfriend while waving what I presumed to be her phone due to its pink case in her face. As they walked out of the restaurant, I heard the tail end of their yelling.
“…watch your mouth and just wait till we get back, I swear,” he barked at her.
“You better watch your back if you’re talking to anyone like that, kid.” I couldn’t help but snap at him as they passed. He whipped around quick, and since I was still holding the painting I instinctively held it up as a weapon. We stood there staring each other down. I could see in my peripheral vision that his girlfriend wanted to tell him to let it go, but no one spoke a word and I counted eight cars pass until the young man took his eyes off mine and glanced at the flimsy painting in my upheld hand.
“What did you say?” he finally asked.
“Can you just leave us alone, asshole?” the young woman yelled at me, then dragged her man away.
He laughed at me, then threw his arm around her and they disappeared around the corner.
Slowly, I lowered the painting. In the past, I might have pursued them, and I would’ve probably done something so dark that I would never have been able to wash off that darkness. I might have also damaged this beautiful piece of local art I’d just purchased with cash I really could have used for lunch instead. I spent a precious meal for this. Thinking to myself for a moment, I knew exactly where I was going to hang it.
I made sure it was securely under my arm, and then I turned my back on the trashcan and continued walking back to my building. A passerby I hadn’t noticed standing underneath the awning of the pizza joint noticeably backed away from me as I walked past. It made me realize how scary I must have seemed, ready to wield this large piece of wood and canvas as a weapon and hit a stranger. That was probably why Brittany seemed so put off, especially when I appeared at a second coffee shop she frequented out of the blue.
Also, I realized, I might remind her of the man who caused her sister to die with such violence. No wonder she had turned me down to come with me and check out that art gallery the artist at the harbor had informed me about. Looking back, I hadn’t even explained it to her very well, either. I shouldn’t have gone for coffee and I definitely should not have come off so strongly toward her, but I think I got what she might be experiencing. She sensed the dark part of me I kept hidden, and she knew that this darkness in me couldn’t mix with her light.
I turned the corner and came to the entryway of my building. I climbed the steps of the entryway and entered, passing the chairs near the windows where old Mrs. Curtis liked to read. She was there reading a dime novel so I said hello to her and then walked past my apartment and held up my newest addition to my building on the wall between my apartment, 1A, and Brittany’s 2A just down the hall.
The art was made from a lot of orange and yellow splattered over what must have been a charcoal sketching due to all the black that had also rubbed off on my biceps. The charcoal in the middle depicted a small fire inside of a birdcage. I had picked it because it was the only one I could afford, and one of the least expensive ones I could find, but I realized then in that moment that it was perfect. Brittany was that light that lived in my building, the birdcage, a building I was tasked to maintain and protect.
I vowed to myself right then to do everything in my power to make sure nothing bad happened to her like what had happened to her sister.
I had bought this for her, I confessed to myself, knowing now for sure that she was the one who had been able to bust through the walls around my heart, the walls I thought I had built to be indestructible. It was a good thing she turned me down for Friday, because she could never accept the darkness that I’m hiding behind my walls. I didn’t need to worry about her getting any farther past my necessary barriers to what I truly was, because she didn’t want in. I could use that hidden, dark animal inside me to make sure no one ever raised a hand to her while she was living under our shared roof.
But she could never meet my beast.
I grabbed my tools and secured the painting to the wall. Mrs. Curtis walked up to the newly hung painting and nodded in approval. After chatting with her about the latest novel she was savoring, I spent most the rest of my day sifting through maintenance requests coming through the online portal.
Near the end of the afternoon, I’d finished most of the work necessary to keep the building from falling apart. I pushed the table in my apartment and its chairs to the corner of the living room with the intention of doing my daily exercise in the privacy of my own home since I’d missed it this morning installing that wine bar down the hall. I had plenty of space, since the couch and coffee table didn’t occupy much of the real estate that made up my sparse living quarters.
I removed my shirt and began my set of sit-ups while awaiting the allowed entry time Hans Tyrell in 2C had requested for maintenance, which wasn’t until eight in the evening when he must leave for work. After thirty repetitions, I slapped my stomach, enjoying the pain from my hit as well as from the previous crunches. As I held my torso up, I looked around at the blank white walls which made up my room. I really needed some paintings in here, I said to myself, getting up for a glass of water and wiping the sweat from my chest and abs on my shirt.
A loud banging erupted from outside the hall as I was bending down for another set. I quickly threw my sweat soaked shirt back on and rushed out the door to see what or who was causing the ruckus.
It was Brittany, with a hammer in one hand, adjusting the painting I’d put up earlier. She looked fresh from the shower, her hair still slightly damp and tied up tight in a bun on her head. She was wearing a loose-fitting sweater and the neckline draped off the edges of her shoulders.
After finishing her adjustments to the painting, she took a step back and admired her work. She craned her neck to the side and played with her hair falling across her collar bone. As she got lost deeper into the painting, she moved her fingers up from playing with her hair and began massaging the curve she made in her neck by tilting her head to the side, pressing hard against her smooth skin as she ran her hand down to the collarbone and over to her shoulder, diving into her sweater and pulling it slightly off of her chest. She had not noticed me because she was fully distracted by the painting. I could see her eyes, though, and how they seemed to glisten with dew as she squinted through a smile at the painting, one of those half smiles people give to themselves when they think they are alone.
Trying not to startle her, I knocked on the wall before approaching her while clearing my throat.
“Knock knock. I see you took it upon yourself to do some of my maintenance tasks for the night.”
Brittany jumped the second I opened my mouth, but then she seemed to relax and lightly massaged the top of her chest in a calming gesture.
“I’m sorry,” I said, “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“No, it’s okay, it’s not you, I’m just a little spooked tonight. This is absolutely gorgeous, by the way. You need to see it in the fading sunlight now that I’ve fixed its positioning.” She reached out and took my bicep in her hand, pulling me toward the painting. Leaning up to my cheek, she whispered in my ear, her breath hot against the hairs on my skin. “Look, do you see how in the fading light the color takes over the charcoal, it’s almost as if it were two paintings in one. A painting that can transform itself depending on its light.”
“Wow, I never thought to look at it that way,” I said.
She pointed at the painting with her chin, which she held next to mine so we could see the painting from the same angle. Feeling her breath so close to my cheek made me lose focus, and I couldn’t see the wall let alone the painting for a few seconds. Brittany lightly squeezed my bicep in excitement, bringing sharpness back to my senses.
“The fire can escape the cage,” I realized out loud, unable to see the charcoal image at all in the dim light.
The sun had now completely set. I could sense that Brittany had nodded beside me, but I didn’t want to ruin this moment so I kept staring ahead at the painting. If I moved, she would run back to her apartment. She had started to lean into me, the soft fabric of her sweater brushing up against my arm. The fabric stopped abruptly halfway up my bicep, giving way to the cool smoothness of her shoulder against me.
In a shy voice, she said, “I looked at my calendar, and actually I am free on Friday. Let’s go check out that ‘cool art spot’ you mentioned. I want to find another piece like this for my room. But you’ll need to have the upmost professionalism,” she teased, leaning even closer into me and tapping me lightly on the chest with the hammer in her hand.
My gut reaction was to grab her by the shoulders and push her up against the painting, sliding my hands into her sweater and pulling it off her in the process. My second reaction was to pull away, accepting the fact that I had fallen for a tenant and that I couldn’t let this go any further. I didn’t have time to do either, because she spoke again before I could reply.
“Speaking of our professional relationship,” she said, “I do have a weird tenant question. How often do people park next to the building across the street and sit in their cars? Are there business offices nearby?”
“It’s not unheard of. Why, did you notice someone parked outside the building today?” The hackles on the back of my neck rose and I instinctively reached for my phone. It had gone off earlier this morning but I had neglected to pick it up then because that was when I’d run into Brittany at the coffee shop near the harbor. Had I missed another call? I’d been on my apartment portal through my computer all day, and I’d completely forgotten about checking my phone for messages.
“That’s why I was spooked earlier. There’s been a man sitting in his car since I got home two hours ago. I’ve actually had this hammer by my side since then.” She blushed after mentioning the last bit about the hammer, obviously having said more than she’d intended to.
I took her by the shoulders and turned her toward me. Her green eyes grew wide. I smiled confidentially, shaking my head reassuringly.
“It happens from time to time,” I said. “It’s nothing to get worried over. I’ll go out and double check, just in case. I want you to feel safe, no matter what.”
She chewed her lower lip, nodding at me as a smile rose up her cheeks. “It’s okay, I’m freaking out over something benign. That really means a lot, though. Thank you, Dalton.” She tipped her chin toward the painting as she slipped out from under my hands. “Ya got good taste, kid,” she said with an exaggerated accent. “Goodnight, Mister ‘Professional.’”
“Goodnight, Miss ‘I do my own maintenance in my neighbors’ hallway late in the evening.’”
She giggled and shook her head at me before turning around to go back into her room. I watched as she arrived at her door and took her apartment key from her pocket, intentionally lifting her sweater high enough for me to get a peek at her slim stomach, the curve of her lower abs inviting my eyes lower down past her waistline. She glanced up at me, caught me staring, and smirked before disappearing into her room.
The second Brittany had completely shut the door to her apartment and I had audibly confirmed she had clicked the latch into the locked position, I sprinted outside. When I got to the top of the steps leading down away from the building, I could see clearly who had spooked Brittany.
Tommy sat in his car next to the building across the street. I could tell through the darkness he was eating a hamburger of some sort, which was a bad sign since Tommy only ate hamburgers to suppress his cravings to smoke, and Tommy only got cravings to smoke when he was pissed off. When he saw me exit the building, he waved me over with the burger in his hand.
Looking behind me, I checked to see which windows were watching me get in Tommy’s car at that moment. Thankfully Brittany’s window blinds had been drawn. I slid into Tommy’s passenger seat as quickly as I could, leaning back in my chair once inside in an attempt to be as invisible as possible in case anyone from the building came outside and recognized me. That was the last thing I wanted.
“Either you find it funny or you think boss enjoys leaving voicemails. He doesn’t. Next time, Tribado is coming when you don’t answer the call. I’m sorry, I can’t help you when you don’t help the group.” Tommy pulled an envelope from out of his breast pocket. I reached out to grab it, but he held it firmly, not letting me take it yet. “Do you even care anymore, or did you forget why you do this?”
You force me do this, I wanted to shout at him, ever since that day I turned to the boss for help and now that I want out you won’t let me go! These words railed in my mind, but instead of letting any of them escape, I nodded my head and answered him.
“We protect,” I said, “and avenge.” My answer must have gotten his approval because he relinquished his hold on the envelope.
“Get out of my car and pick up your phone more often, it’s healthy,” he grunted.
I slammed the envelope into the front pocket of my pants and scrambled out of his car.
As I closed his passenger door, Hans Tyrell from 2C was coming out of the building. We nodded to each other as I walked up the entryway steps, the envelope Tommy had given me burning a hole in the crotch of my pants. I can’t keep doing this, I told myself. If I truly wanted to commit to a better path, I needed to make a way out of this. Especially if it had already affected Brittany. I could not accept that.
I made sure to watch Tommy drive off before going to finish the rest of my maintenance tasks.