Page 12 of Jackson
“It’s heaven and hell, it’s a contradiction, it’s my life,” Isaid.
“And that’s yourfather?”
She had been the first to question the suited guy that stood to one side and was completely out of place amongst the naked men and women, amongst the monsters anddebauchery.
“Yes.”
We fell silent while she took in my art. What she didn’t see, or maybe she did but never mentioned it, was the woman that featured in every piece I did. A woman with auburn hair and brown eyes, a woman that stood out pure and clean against the bloodshed andslaughter.
“I think it’s stunning, I love it. Wherever I end up, I want you to do something on my bedroom wall. I saw the pictures of that piece you did a couple of yearsago.”
I wondered how she’d seen that particular piece. I’d taken the picture. I took pictures of them all: partly to remember and partly to showcase mywork.
“I know exactly what I’d like to do against your bedroom wall,” I said before picking up a spray can andcontinuing.
She looked sharply at me but said nothing. I cursed myself; I didn’t want to play with her. If I could take back those words, I would have. I heard her walk to the bar and fall back into a conversation with Dexter. I smiled as I heard him regale her with stories from Australia. How he’d fought off an imaginary shark one day when he’d surfed. I chuckled and shook my head at histales.
I wasn’t sure of how much time had passed; I knew my back ached. I stood and stretched and my stomach grumbled, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten that morning. I capped the cans and placed them back in the bucket. I took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of paint then picked up a rag to wipe my hands with. I turned and walked towards her as I wiped the rag over my chest. I saw her tongue very slightly wet herlips.
I knew she wanted me; her kiss and her body the previous night, had left me with no doubt. She knew I wanted her, too. But to have her the way I wanted, the way she deserved, would mean opening up to her, and I wasn’t ready for that. I wasn’t ready to tell her my past, to be honest with her, and have her discover the fucked up individual I really was. I also wasn’t ready for herrejection.
“Lunchtime,” I said, as I gotclose.
“Aw, you’re not taking her away? She’s about the prettiest thing in thisshithole.”
D-J walked through the bar and towards us. I made introductions and laughed as Dexter threw a bar towel at him. D-J was the third cog in the wheel. He was a true Californian, with his long blond hair, perfect teeth, and a tanned, toned body. He carried his surfboard under his arm and leaned it against thebar.
“Dude, that is fucking awesome,” he said, as he looked at thewall.
“Oh, I forgot to add, D-J is about as clichéd as you can get. You ever want an advert for Cali, that’s it,” I said pointing athim.
“What can I say? I’m a perfect specimen of man. I mean, come on, Summer. Look at us: a half Brit that looks like a fucking criminal, an old Australian that should have retired centuries ago, and me. Who do you think attracts the chicks here night afternight?”
I watched Summer throw back her head and laugh. I hadn’t seen her laugh like that for a long time and I smiled at thesight.
“Yes, I totally get it, D-J,” she said with a wink. “Clichéd!”
To the sound of laughter, although I doubted D-J actually understood what had been said, we left the bar and walked to thecar.
“I like your friends, and I can really see you behind that bar,” she said as she climbedin.
“They’re good guys, especially Dex. He took me under his wing. He became the father I would have loved,” I said, quickly closing my mouth before I said toomuch.
“Your father’s not very nice, ishe?”
“That’s the understatement of the year. Now, buckleup.”
“Do you want to talk aboutit?”
“No,” I said, perhaps a little tooabruptly.
I saw her glance at me as she clipped in her seat belt. I kept my gaze firmly on the road ahead, but I felt my jaw working side to side with the immediate tension I felt whenever I thought abouthim.
I placed a CD into the stereo and cranked up the music. I wound down the windows and let the breeze flow through the car. It was a beat-up old Mustang that Dex had given me, a far cry from the sleek Mercedes I’d left behind in London. But it got me around and I had no interest in material things. The only reason I’d kept the Merc was because it pissed off my father. He’d cut off my trust, a trust my grandfather had set up, but he couldn’t take my car away. I shook all thoughts of my family from my mind. I was in California, doing something I loved, with a woman by my side that I loved. I would not allow that fucker to bring me down thatday.
We pulled into a small car park alongside the beach and I watched her smile. Surfers were out on their boards, waiting for that one wave that would have their adrenalin flowing. People walked or sat on the sand and the sun beatdown.
“So I promised you a fantastic lunch and there it is,” I said as I helped her from the car, absorbing the spark thattime.
