Page 49 of Forever My Protector

“Oh, no.”I shook my head.“I love it, I do.But there’s a difference in describing it, having the right words to talk about it and actually doing it.That’s why I’m a writer.I’m much better at that.”

“You do have a way with words,” he confessed.

I laughed.“Plus, it’s hard to make a living when you’re an artist.And with Brandon and both my parents gone, I had no support.I needed stability.Not that writing gives you that, but it’s what I really love and it’s a step up in the stability department.”

“You amaze me,” he gawked.

I rolled my eyes.Then I came face-to-face with a Coco 144.I wasn’t even going to bother asking Colt if he knew who this was.He didn’t.But I was so overjoyed with happiness it wasn’t even funny.“Coco 144,” I said to him.

“Excuse me?”he asked, a hand around my waist as we stood in front of his work.

“Roberto Gualtieri.He introduced the use of stencils.He’s a legend really.His artwork speaks volumes.It changed everything.”

“How so?”he asked, and I loved that he was feigning interest for me.I knew he didn’t understand art and it bored him, so it was nice that he was pretending, if only to appease me.

I answered in any event, “He was known as ‘all city’ by his colleagues and soon everyone, because he wrote his name everywhere and started in Manhattan’s Upper West Side.”I added, “A wall, a train, it didn’t matter the surface really.”

“Seems like he was a heck of a man.”

“He was.”

Content, we kept on walking, his hand still on the small of my back.I knew had I not been holding these crutches we’d be walking hand-in-hand, but this would have to do.

As we continued, I heard music.The sound was contagious and I couldn’t help but have the urge to sway my hips.Then they came in sight, it was two male guitarists and a female street dancer, it seemed.Another couple was staring at them in awe, holding hands.They looked like they were in love, like Colt and I were, and as though they were having the time of their lives.I thought it was safe to say so were we.

The Spanish music was seductive and upbeat.“I want to dance,” I whispered to Colt, looking down at my crutches.

He grinned.“Then let’s dance.”

“Colt,” I said, and held up the offending obstacle.“I can’t.”

Colt shook his head, “Fuck those.”

“I can’t get rid of them.”

“I know,” he replied.He stood in front of me then and held my waist.“Just sway to the beat.”

I loved him for what he was doing, so even if it was silly, I let him hold me and swayed along.It wasn’t ideal, but it was a moment in time I would never forget.Would never want to forget.

When the song was over, I had Colt follow me as I approached the street dancer.“Excuse me,” I said when I reached her.“But I just have to say, you’re really talented.”

The red-haired woman with piercing green eyes looked back me, a sparkle in them from her love of what she does, clearly.“Name’s Ginger,” she said, putting her hand out.I finagled with my crutches and gave her my hand, Colt holding me up right with his arm securely wrapped around me.

“Scarlet and this is Colt,” I introduced us.“I work for a magazine in New York and you gave me a wonderful idea for an article.In fact, if it’s as good as I think it’s going to be, it might even make the cover.”

She quirked an eyebrow.

I explained, “I’d like to do an article about street dancing, what it’s like to be a street dancer, and maybe about you, in particular.Sort of like an expose.If you’re interested.”

“Spilling the beans on being a street dancer?”

“Something like that.”

“I’m down,” she declared.“Hey, Billy, you got a pen?”she hollered back at one of the guitarists.They were beginning to pack up and he took one out of his jean pocket.“Got a piece of paper, too,” he said.

“Perfect, thanks, Billy.”

“No prob,” he responded and turned back to what he was doing.

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