Chapter 10

“Make a left here,” Jamie Lynn said, pointing to the intersection in front of them. Why the hell are we in the Design District? Enzo thought anxiously.

The hairs on his neck prickled and he was beginning to get a very bad feeling, and not just because they were in the worst part of town. She indicated an abandoned gasoline station and said, “Park right over there.”

He let out a breath and did as instructed. “You know this part of town is falling apart.”

“It may seem like complete shit, but less than two blocks down it’s kind of becoming an up-and-coming—”

“I’m aware.”

She turned to look at him, briefly curious. “You are?” But then she shook her head, and before he had a chance to explain how he knew about this particular area, she went on. “Anyhow, so there’s this small strip known as the Walls. It used to be an industrial area, and it’s packed full of abandoned warehouses. It’s a lot like an area in Miami that used to be a dump but is now slowly becoming the trendiest part of town. Since the government didn’t do anything to improve the area, the local artists did it themselves, and now it’s become kind of boho chic.” She was speaking a mile a minute. “And we’re doing the same here. You know what gentrification is?”

He had to stop himself from scoffing. Did he know what gentrification was? Of course he did. That was his profession. He went into bad areas, abandoned urban communities, and made them into up-and-coming neighborhoods. He ignored the question and instead asked, “We?”

“Me and some of my friends. Mostly artists, but they’re real artists.”

“You are a real artist, Jamie Lynn. Maybe it’s not your profession, but you’re very good at it.”

She looked down at her lap and lifted a shoulder. “Thanks—I appreciate you saying that. But these are some of the best tattooists and artists that I know. They’ve actually showed at galleries. I’m honored to do this with them.”

He felt his heart pound. This conversation could change their entire relationship. This clearly meant the world to her. They exited the car, and she took his hand and led them half a block down. And then he saw it.

Wall after wall of colorful…“Graffiti? You guys are doing graffiti?”

“No! Open your mind. It’s art. This is important to me, Enzo. I’ve never shared this with anyone before,” she said as she walked ahead of him and pointed to various walls. “In Miami all the walls are painted in these humongous elaborate murals, and tourists flock to see them and now the area is thriving. Look.” She pointed to the side of an old warehouse that was now camouflaged by an enormous mural. He stepped back and looked at it. “It’s street art, Enzo.”

It was a very well-done painting of a woman in a red dress doing a split in the air. Her outstretched legs spanned at least forty feet across and the woman herself was about twenty feet tall. It was enormous and so lifelike it looked as if it was popping out of the brick wall and into the dead air. He turned around, for the first time really looking at all the murals. On another wall, there were thousands of red polka dots painted on a black wall, each dot perfectly round and of identical dimensions—clearly something that had taken a lot of time and patience to do. Another entire building was covered in black and white lines, creating a psychedelic look. He kept looking, and as far as his eyes could see, there were murals and sketches and paintings. And she was right. It wasn’t graffiti—the artists who’d done this had clearly taken time and effort to make these masterpieces beautiful.

During the months he’d spent researching the area, he’d been there over a dozen times and had seen some of the art, but he’d never really seen it as art. He’d noticed people loitering and litter everywhere, and he’d concluded that the graffiti had been done by vandals and thugs with nothing else to do but destroy private property. Which is why he’d contributed an exorbitant amount of money to the Tarpon Springs police force to monitor the area and arrest all the vandals.

Now he was seeing it with different eyes. Eyes that were relaxed and at peace from three and a half days with a woman who regarded life with a carefree spirit. He saw that the area was in fact beautiful. But its beauty didn’t hide the fact that none of the businesses were viable, the sidewalks were cracked, and there were shopping carts in corners and alleyways, suggesting that homeless people were living there. Still, he could see what she meant by her comment that the art was drawing attention to the neighborhood. Some tourists were a block up the street, laughing and taking pictures against a wall that was a giant tribute to Harry Potter.

“JL, over here,” came a faint call from above.

They both looked up to see a man perched on a five-story building, like a window washer, with an array of paints. “Is that why you wanted to conquer your fear of heights?”

“Hi!” she called up to the guy above, waving. Then she turned to Enzo. “Yeah. I have this wall over here.” She pulled him to an alley and pointed to the wall of a four-story building. “I already have the sketch and everything done. I’m ready to begin, but every time I start to climb the ladder I freak and climb back down. I can have someone else do it for me, but it’s my wall, my project, and I want to be the one who does it.”

He ran his fingers through his hair. “Jamie Lynn…”

“I know. It’s not exactly legal and you are Mr. Law-Abiding, but I know that when people get word of what we’re doing, this shitty area of town will boom. Tourists come already. On weekends they walk around taking pictures.” She pulled him to the corner of the street and made a left. “Look, someone is already opening up a coffee shop here.”

“Can’t imagine you’re cool with another Starbucks,” he said, knowing how much of a nonconformist she was.

“No, not a Starbucks. Don’t you get it? It’s a coffee shop for the community. And maybe next there’ll be a little bookshop, a tattoo parlor, a bakery, or a community center.” She shrugged. “But we have to be careful because there are two cops who love to drive around and give us a hard time. It’s like they have it in for us. One of the guys, Leo, was already arrested once. He spent two days in jail, like he committed some horrible crime, and he’s now on probation. He hasn’t been around since then.”

His heart constricted. He should tell her right then and there. The arrest had been because of him. And, what was probably worse in her eyes, in a few months’ time this area would no longer exist, if he had his way. The contracts were already drafted and awaiting a few signatures and permits, and then this area would be completely razed and in its place a huge outlet mall would be erected.

She jumped up and down excitedly. “This is my canvas, Enzo.” She looked at it. “It’s going to rock when I’m done. Nothing clears my head more than sketching and painting.”

“Jesus, sweetheart.” He ran his hands through his hair again. “Could you have picked a taller building?”

She laughed. “One of the cops who’ve been up our asses is home sick and the other is away on vacation. That’s why Jonah called this morning. I haven’t been here in weeks. I missed it.”

He didn’t even bother to ask how they knew about the police officers.

Hand in hand, they walked back to where her friend was now climbing down. “JL, long time no see. How are you?” The thin tattooed man with paint on his hands and gauges in his ears hugged Jamie Lynn until her feet lifted off the ground.

“Good to see you, Jonah.” She moved aside. “This is my friend, Enzo. Enzo, this is Jonah.” Enzo and Jonah traded nods before Jamie Lynn pointed to a couple a few feet away “Those two over there are Jasmin and Ella.” She indicated two people on the other side and said, “That’s Jared and Savannah.”

“You’ve come to work?” The man looked at Enzo questioningly.

“Yeah. Come on,” Jamie Lynn answered for Enzo, pulling him along to the rest of the group, who all gathered in front of her big wall. “We all try to help out doing the first coat. Otherwise it’ll take forever.”

“I can’t draw, Jamie Lynn.”

“It’s not drawing.” She handed him a long paint roller. “We’re just priming it. Like if you’re painting a wall in your house.” He made a face. “Oh, bless your heart, Pretty Boy, you’ve never had to paint before, have you?” She kissed his cheek and handed him a can of paint. “Well, join the rest of the working community.”

“You know that in Wynwood people don’t just grab a paintbrush and start painting. The artists there are chosen after a review process, and there’s permits and—”

“You know about Wynwood?”

“You don’t listen, do you? My job has a lot to do with developing urban neighborhoods. I am familiar with the area you were talking about in Miami.”

“Well, Tarpon Springs isn’t Miami. Someone has to start. We’re not going to go ask for a permit. No one would give us one, and that’s not the point anyway. This area is abandoned. We’re making it nice again. It’s harmless street art, is all.”

He blew out a breath. God, why did she have to be so adorably determined? He took a paint roller and started to work.

For the next four hours they coated the wall black. By the time they were finished everyone was exhausted. Jamie Lynn had refused to do any of the higher parts of the building, so one of the others had done the top. A few times he wanted to pull her aside to tell her that this was a wasted effort, that these walls would soon be gone. But she seemed so at home and in her element, and he didn’t want to ruin that. He also didn’t want to ruin their last hours together before real life set in, bursting the perfect little bubble they’d created during the last few days.

“Did you like JL’s work? Isn’t our girl talented?” Savannah asked Enzo.

“Uh…no, he hasn’t seen it,” Jamie Lynn answered for him.

“Seen what?” he asked Savannah.

Savannah brought JL in for a hug. “We gotta run. Show him.”

The group said a quick goodbye, Jamie Lynn thanked them for their help, and then they were gone.

“See what?” he asked again.

“My first wall.”

“Oh, I assumed this was your first wall.”

“Nope. It’s just the biggest and tallest. But I’ve been doing this for the last year or so.”

“Was this where you were all those times I asked you out and you dodged me?”

“Yes, this is usually where I was. But I wasn’t dodging you. It’s probably hard for your enlarged ego to grasp this concept, but I wasn’t interested,” she said as she wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her head on his chest.

“You’re interested now, though?”

“Very much so.”

“Can I see the other wall?” he asked.

“I’ve never shown anyone my stuff.” She sighed. “In a few days you’ve seen all my secrets.”

“For someone who is adamant about not keeping secrets, you’re the most secretive person I know.”

She looked up at him, her brows together in thought. After a long moment she said, “Damn. Never thought about that.”

“At least you shared it with me. I’m honored,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “By the way, your friends have seen it? The people who were here tonight?”

“Yeah, but they’re artists, so it’s different. They don’t judge.”

Enzo squeezed her tighter, realizing that they were sweaty and paint-stained, but not really caring. He needed to touch her, so he did. “I saw your chalk room and your canvases already and I loved them. I think you are so talented, and I would never judge you.” He leaned down and kissed her softly on the lips. “Plus, I’m your friend too. I think it’s only fair you show me.”

The wall was about a third of the size of the one they’d just primed. Against a soft blue background she had painted a little girl—who looked a lot like a young Jamie Lynn—sitting alone holding a flower that was withered and dying. The little girl was smiling. She seemed hopeful. There were what looked like people all around her, but they were just silhouettes; the focal point was the little blond girl who wore dirty overalls full of holes. Around her was utter destruction—angry faces, broken cars—but the girl was all smiles. It was as if the world was falling apart around her, but she was…

“Hope,” he whispered, mostly to himself.

“What?”

“That’s what I see. Is that you, sweetheart?” He pointed to the girl on the wall. Every freckle and line of her face was drawn with the precision of an accomplished artist. Even the details of the flower were amazing.

She shrugged. “Actually, I see innocence.” She stepped back to observe again.

“I don’t.” Her tiny body was in front of him, and he wrapped his arms around her. “I definitely see hope.” He kissed the top of her head. “It’s beautiful, Jamie Lynn. You should share this with everyone you know. Your brother and Violet would love it. They’d be proud.” He shouldn’t have said that, he realized immediately; it was giving her and the little girl in the mural hope that would soon be ripped away. She turned into his arms and kissed him. Her kisses were usually hard and charged, but this was different. It was soft and tender.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“If you have to ask, I’m not doing it right.”

“Stop.” He cupped her face and looked over her shoulder to the wall. “What does it mean, sweetheart?”

“Nothing. It was just something I drew.”

“Bullshit. Tell me,” he said, but she pressed her body closer and kissed him. “I won’t let you use sex to divert my attention,” he insisted. “I want to know.”

“My mom would throw away my drawings. Call them stupid. Call me stupid. Said it was a waste of time. We didn’t have money for art supplies. I’ve been working since I can remember. No one knows I do this. Draw, I mean. Not even Travis. My twin brother! I mean, now they know about the community center classes, but they don’t know the extent of it.”

Enzo looked around at the area he was already all too familiar with, and felt a pain in the pit of his stomach. The people he’d assumed were just faceless thugs weren’t faceless anymore. Hell, they weren’t even thugs. They were real people with real feelings behind their art. And yes, it was art, because what she’d drawn made him feel. It wasn’t just some beautiful piece; it was heartfelt emotions spread out for the world to see. “You know, I can help you pay for art school,” he said tentatively. The money wouldn’t even dent his account, but he was sure she’d be too proud to accept his money.

She pushed back slightly. “I didn’t tell you because I wanted pity. I hate that look you’re giving me right now. It’s the reason I don’t tell anyone. I just told you because you asked about it. But no, I don’t want your money, and I certainly don’t want you trying to fix me. I like my life. I like working at the Pier.”

“It wasn’t pity, Jamie Lynn. It was just…” He brought her into his arms and inhaled the scent of her hair. “Never mind. Just forget I said anything. I’m sorry.”

By the time he walked out of the shower that evening, Jamie Lynn was already in his bed spreading moisturizer on her arms and legs. Picking up the clothes she’d strewn all over the floor and tossing them in the hamper, he couldn’t help but stop and look at her. They’d been together for only four days, but it felt like years. He’d never felt so comfortable with a woman, not even Marianna. But JL in his bed, in his T-shirt, doing her nightly ritual while he did his, felt right.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked as she closed the bottle and tucked it into her purse on the floor by the bed.

“I just…” He wasn’t sure how to voice his feelings without scaring her off. It was too soon for such strong emotions, he thought.

She sat up, tucking her feet under her and clasping her hands behind her neck. “I have to say something.” Since meeting her almost a year ago, he’d never seen her look nervous. She wore her heart on her sleeve and had no reservations saying exactly what she felt. But this look…it was disconcerting. She glanced down for a moment before bringing her eyes back up to his face, her spine a little straighter and her expression resolved, as if she wanted to make it a point to say this while looking into his eyes.

“I know this is still our first date.”

He laughed. “World’s longest first date.”

“I know that I’ve been dodging you for months. I know it’s too soon. I know that what I’m about to say would make any man run for the hills. I know we are only supposed to be having fun. I know all of this, but I can’t stop from telling you that I misjudged you. You’re not uptight and you are not judgmental—at least you aren’t that way with me. You, Enzo, are kind and fun, and I feel honored that I’m one of the rare few who get to see this side of you.” She brought her mouth to his in a soft but all-consuming kiss that made him tighten his arms around her waist and bring her closer.

“The rest of the world sees Enzo in his perfect suit without a hair out of place, and I get to see the man who holds my hand and makes love to me on the floor of one of his spare rooms. The man who’s freakishly ticklish.” She smiled. “Anyway, I just wanted to say that what I feel about you is big and unexpected and it scares the ever-loving shit outta me, Enzo.”

“Baby…”

She placed a finger over his lips. “Didn’t say it for you to say something back. I just need you to know how I feel. You pointed out today that I am too secretive, and it made me realize that you’re right. So this is just me being honest with you.” She tucked her face in the crook of his neck.

If there was anything he’d expected her to say, that wasn’t it. His heart swelled. It was just a matter of time before things between them got big. Not that he didn’t want that, because he found that he did. He wanted all of her. “And that’s why I kissed you just now. Just in case you run away after my crazy too-soon declaration, I wanted one last kiss,” she admitted.

He picked her up and moved her to the middle of the bed, where he laid her down and looked at her, his thumb stroking her face. He had to remember that even though she was feisty, she was also very sensitive and had to be treated with care. Not because she couldn’t handle things on her own, but because she deserved so much more than she thought she did. “Sweetheart, I feel the same way. Never felt so much so fast for anyone.” He pressed another kiss on her lips.

“It’s crazy. It’s too soon,” she said.

“Yes, but I think when you know, you know.”

“I don’t want to leave,” she admitted.

“Then don’t.”

“I don’t want to kill the mood, but I want to finish telling you my story. I want you to know everything about me before you decide where you want to take this thing between us.”

“Nothing you tell me will change the way I feel about you.”

“Maybe not, but I think this is an important part of me. It’s a part of what makes me who I am.” She moved up and sat cross-legged on the bed. “I don’t want you to look at me differently after you hear this. You’re the only person other than Mama who knows this, and quite frankly, I don’t know if she even remembers.” She pressed the palms of her hands against her eyes. “God, we’re so different. How’s this ever going to work?”

“I don’t see any differences, baby,” he said softly.

She looked down at her hands. “You’re clearly in denial,” she told him, giving him a self-deprecating smile. “Okay, so during my senior year of high school, Harry left for Tarpon Springs for a week and Travis was on a spring break trip with his friends. I was alone with my mom, who was on a bender. A bad one. But I just ignored her, like I always did. Andy McGuire, the captain of the football team, asked me out. Me, the wallflower with the attitude. I wore this white flowy cotton dress that Violet lent me. It went past my knees and I had on some cute flat sandals and a braid that went down my shoulder.”

“Can’t imagine you with long hair.”

“Long blond hair,” she told him. “Anyway, the dress was sweet and I was vibrating with excitement. As soon as my mother saw me she started going off on me. You see, my mother has this little sinister laugh that speaks volumes. Instead of telling me that I looked pretty, she doubled over in laughter, holding a bottle of vodka in one hand and a cigarette in the other.”

“You think you can wear new clothes and that boy’s going to forget you’re trash?” Rita said between bouts of hilarity, teetering because she was drunk. “Everyone knows it. You are trailer park trash, and a little makeup ain’t gonna change shit. Your tits are hanging out,” her mother had said, pointing her cigarette toward JL’s nonexistent cleavage. “He only wants one thing. That’s what all men want. Best you learn that young.”

JL refused to ruin her makeup with tears, so she slammed the screen door and waited for Andy outside. Twenty minutes late, a brand-new blue pickup truck turned into her driveway, sending dust and pebbles flying everywhere. He honked the horn and she climbed inside.

“You look pretty, Jamie Lynn,” Andy said.

“Thanks. Like your truck,” she replied shyly.

He had told her they were going to the movies, and she was surprised when he took her not to the local movieplex downtown but to an old movie theater a town over. But she was so excited to be on the date she didn’t care.

He paid for their movie tickets, bought popcorn and soda, and led her to the back of the theater. As soon as the lights dimmed, he was all over her. It started off with a kiss, which she enjoyed. It hadn’t been her first kiss; hell, she wasn’t even a virgin. But it was a good kiss. Andy definitely had experience, she had thought. The kiss quickly escalated to touching, and by the time the movie was over he was noticeably hard and flushed. He led her to his car, where he continued to kiss her.

“Andy, wait.” She pushed him back. “Andy, stop.” But he didn’t. His hand snaked under her skirt and up her leg. She pushed against him harder and told him to stop, but this time more firmly. “I said, stop.”

He pulled back and unfastened the button of his jeans. “I paid for the movie and dinner. What the fuck, Jamie Lynn?”

“Dinner? You mean the popcorn?”

“Oh, so that wasn’t enough? I thought a girl from a trailer park would settle for a movie. Fuckin’ have to buy you dinner too?” He adjusted himself and turned on the ignition.

She sat back and fixed her dress as tears welled in her eyes. Andy drove off and a few minutes later they were in front of a local fast-food spot. “What are you doing?” she asked, surprised. She’d figured he would take her home since she wasn’t going to put out.

“You’ll only let me fuck you if I get you some food, right?”

“What? No, I’m not going to have sex with you. It’s got nothing to do with food.”

Andy’s nostrils flared, and instead of parking in front of the restaurant he pulled his truck to a dark corner of the parking lot, unbuckled his seatbelt, and turned to face her. “What did you think this was? You were never going to be my girlfriend, and I know you’re no virgin.”

“Is that why we went to this theater?”

“Of course. I don’t want anyone to see me with you. I asked you out, and now we’re going to have sex.” This time he unzipped his jeans after he unbuttoned the waistband. “I wonder if you’re as good as your mama. I’ve heard rumors about her.”

“No!” That was the last coherent word she spoke. He roughly grabbed her thighs and pushed her down on the seat as she screamed and flailed. “Keep fighting me, darlin’, I like it rough.” Without any warning he got on top of her and pushed inside her. She screamed in pain. Within the small confines of the car, she didn’t have anyplace to go, and his body on her tiny frame held her captive. Tears dripped down her face, and when he was done, he got out of the car, righted his pants, tucked in his shirt, and got back in, as if he hadn’t just raped her. Her body trembled and nausea consumed her, but she was a fighter. She wouldn’t be weak. She opened the door and jumped out, tumbling to the ground and scraping her knees. She wiped her face with the back of her hands and smoothed her rumpled dress. Andy followed alongside her with his car, yelling through the window, “You better keep that mouth of yours shut, Jamie Lynn. Who do you think they’ll believe, white-trash JL Calhoun with a manipulative junkie mother, or me, the captain of the football team, the valedictorian of the class, the son of the owner of McGuire Oil? You hear me, girl?” She did. She heard every word as she walked, her arms wrapped around herself. He took off, his back tires sending pebbles flying into the air.

She ran back home, all three miles. At some point she stopped on the side of the road and threw up, holding onto a tree for support. When she finally made it back home, her mother was outside with another beer and another cigarette. “You look like shit.”

And that caused the dam to break inside JL. She needed love. She needed comfort. Instead her mother looked at her and then at her dress, which was stained with blood. JL lifted the hem a little and saw that she had a huge gash on her thigh. It could’ve been from when she’d fallen while running or from fighting Andy off. Her mother’s only words were, “Told you, long pretty hair won’t change a thing. That right there, what happened to you it’s ’cause you’re a tease. Remember who you are and where you come from.” She tipped her head toward the trailer. “Get used to it, Jamie Lynn. Without expectations you won’t get hurt.”

“And that was it,” Jamie Lynn finished. “My life was forever changed. I think that’s why I try to keep expectations low. Don’t date much, don’t get too attached. That night I chopped off my hair with a pair of kitchen shears. I never told anyone else. I don’t even know if my mother remembers that night. I don’t know what was worse, her reaction or what Andy did to me. Anyway, for weeks I would look at the gash on my leg. It morphed into a scar, a constant reminder of what had happened. I was so angry at everyone, especially myself for being so stupid. One day, a few weeks after, I walked into Jimbo’s Tattoo with my fake ID and got my first tattoo. I got it to cover my scar. The woman who tattooed me was kind and didn’t ask questions. We hit it off, and soon afterward I started working there as the receptionist. I loved it at Jimbo’s. They’d let me sketch a lot of the customers’ requests, and I learned a lot those two years. Not just about drawing but about myself. I was my own person and refused to let my mother or Andy define me. If I wanted to have short purple hair and tattoo every inch of my body, I would. I didn’t need anyone’s permission. I didn’t care what others thought. I just wanted to be me, and I was…I am.”