Page 51 of Bad Influence
She wrinkles her nose and looks at me like I said something to completely ruin her mood. “You’re an artist, Killer. You should appreciate the colors of the world.”
“Have you seen any of my art?” I ask her. Because if she had she would know that I don’t appreciate the colors of the world. What I paint is raw emotion. Mostly anger. I paint what I see in the world, which isn’t always color, but rather the emotions brought out in people.
“Just when I search your name on the Internet,” she says.
I look at her through the corner of my eyes. “You’ve been looking me up on the Internet?”
Her cheeks turn pink, matching her dress. “Only to look at your paintings.”
“I’ll show them to you,” I say.
She looks at me in surprise. “You will?”
I nod in agreement. My paintings aren’t a mystery nor are they something I want to hide. That was something I knew from the moment I started painting. I wanted to share it with the world. More than anything, I want to share them with Caroline.
Happiness shines in her eyes and she looks at me like I’ve given her a part of my soul, like she’s grateful that I’m trusting her. Or maybe she’s simply enjoying experiencing something new, something that wasn’t in her reach before.
“Let’s play a game,” she says.
I look at her hesitantly. “What kind of game?”
“It’s a color game. Each of us pick a color and go in a separate direction and take photos of as many of that color we find,” she explains.
“You don’t know where you’re going so that’s a terrible idea,” I dismiss.
Grabbing my arm, she pulls me to a stop. Her hand is warm against my skin. I almost hate to admit how nice it feels. Caroline tells her head back, frowning up at me.
“I’m not a child. I know how to use a map. And it’s not a terrible idea.”
She’s talking to me likeI’ma child. This is a new city for her, and sometimes New York is dangerous even for people who’ve lived here for years. I look into her wide, guileless eyes. She’s close enough that I can see the blue rings around her irises, the gold fleck in her right eye.
I want to paint them exactly like this. Open. Trusting. Staring up at me.
Not wanting to disappoint her, I agree. “Okay. But I pick the area and I tell you exactly where to go. We’re going to be on the phone the whole time.”
She jumps with excitement making her tits bounce in her dress. I have to look away immediately before I’m caught staring.
“Okay, yay! What color do you want?”
“I’ll take red.”
“Then I’ll take blue.”
We exit the neighborhood and decide to go in our separate directions, circling back in thirty minutes. I call Caroline to keep her on the phone as I start walking away from her. There’s a restless feeling inside my chest but when I glance back, she’s happily looking around for her color.
I’m aware that I’m acting like a parent whose child is going away on their own for the first time. I can’t let go of this protective, possessive feeling I have over Caroline.
“Ooh, this is a good one,” she says in my ear. “Have you found anything yet?”
Honestly, I haven’t even looked. If I don’t play the game, she’ll still be disappointed so I look around searching for the color red. I find it in an awning. Then again in the faded letters of what used to be a bar. Again on graffiti painted on the side ofa building.
All the while Caroline is in my ear, happily exclaiming each time she finds something. The excitement in her voice is what makes this game worth playing for me. Even as an artist, the colors are not what excite me. It’s what I create with them that’s exciting to me, and lately, not even that.
“I think you’re going to love this,” Caroline says.
The timer on my phone goes off indicating that it’s time for us to meet back where we started.
“Does that mean we have to go back now?” Caroline asks, disappointment clear in her voice.
