Livvy (43 page)

“Hey, Daddy.”

“Hi, Tessa. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing... nothing really, anyway.”

“But something’s going on?”

“Yeah... Dad, in my street art class today, my professor held me back to talk to me about my paintings. He’d figured out that I’m behind the Olivia Choisie paintings.”

“Did he reveal it to someone?”

“Oh, no. No, that’s not it. He said that he was looking for her–
me
–because his sister was interested in my art for a project.”

“Really? Tell me more.”

“She’s actually a well-known street artist in her town, and she wants to take me on as an apprentice.”

“Is she in New Haven?”

“Um, no... she’s in... well, she’s in Brazil.”

“Brazil, the country?”

“Is there another Brazil?”

Dad laughs a little. “Wow. That’s interesting. When would you do this?”

“Over the summer,” I say, punctuating it with a sigh. “All summer.”

“Ohhh,” he says, understanding immediately my conundrum. “I see.”

“Is it wrong for me to even suggest it?”

“Wrong?” he asks, sounding surprised. “Need I remind you of the question you asked me about a million times last summer?”

“No, I know, Dad.”
Why didn’t Jon tell me he’d be spending his summer in Utah the second he knew? Why did he keep that from me?

“If you two want the future together you say you want, then you need to start making each other aware of your opportunities. What are the specifics of this summer thing? Where in Brazil?”

“I don’t know all the details. Dr. Emory wants to take you and me out to dinner one evening to discuss it more. He said he spends most weekends in Manhattan. Something about visiting his sister beforehand.”

“Oh?” he asks.

“He suggested over spring break. I know you were already planning some things, but–”

“Contessa, I never expected you to go with us after you graduated.”

“He mentioned that she would fly us all out... she wants you and Mom to feel comfortable with the arrangement.”

“Well, Liv, I don’t think that’s for me and your mother to really decide anymore, you know? We want to support your creative endeavors.”

“Mom won’t like it.”

“Mom will be apprehensive. Mom will miss you. Mom will still support you.”

“I know,” I tell him. “I just don’t know if it’s even something I should consider.”

“Absolutely it is,” Dad says to me. “Considering it and learning more about the opportunity is absolutely what you should do. Getting Jon involved early, Liv... well, that would be my recommendation... if you’re certain you still want to be with him.”

“Of course I’m certain of that!”

“I thought as much. I just wanted to make sure. You’re both still young, but I’m accepting that, in itself, is not a reason to break up.”

“Thank you,” I say, relieved.

“Introduce him to the idea. Let him have some time to warm up to it. If I know him–and I think I do–he’ll want what’s best for you. If it turns out going to Brazil for a few months is what’s best for you, you can resume things at the end of the summer.”

“Maybe,” I say with hesitance. “Okay. I’ll mention it to him and just tell him it’s really early in the planning.”

“Sounds like a good start.”

“Will you have dinner with me and Dr. Emory, though? I’d feel better with you there... I’m sure you’ll have questions I wouldn’t even think about.”

“If you want me there for that, I’d love to have an evening with my daughter.”

“Thanks, Daddy. I’ll let you know when.”

“Alright. Don’t let this stress you. We’ll just get some details and start to consider the pros and cons. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“I love you, Liv.”

“Love you, too, Dad.”

After getting off the phone, I go to my class, but it’s nearly impossible to concentrate; fortunately, most of what we’re learning are things I already know. I chose this class because I knew it would be easy. After connecting to the school’s Wifi, I start surfing the web for the artist that my street art professor told me about. I look at her work, amazed at what she’s done and the impact she’s been able to make in her community. Dr. Emory’s sister has a unique style. She uses bold colors like I do, but somehow her style is much softer, more feminine. It’s beautiful, and although I’d always dreamed of being able to paint large murals on walls and buildings, it’s not a dream I thought I’d realize anytime soon. Manhattan isn’t ready for it. There are too many zoning laws that kept artists from doing anything that wouldn’t be considered graffiti. I’d seen stories of artists who’d been arrested for making their own statement on public property. Sure, what they did wasn’t legal, but their projects always made the city look better, the streets look more vibrant–at least in my eyes. I knew I’d never have the guts to follow in their footsteps, thanks to my Mom and Dad’s strict moral compasses, but I looked up to those artists. I wanted to do what they did. I wanted to make my mark, and make it in a big way.

People start getting up before I realize today’s lesson has ended.

“La clase ha terminado, Livvy!”
Señora Molina tells me.

“Sí, lo sé,”
I respond, shutting off my computer and stuffing it in my bag hurriedly.

“Qué tengas una buena tarde,”
she says.

“Tú también.”
Without giving it another thought, I go straight to my advisor’s office and ask to drop Señora’s class.

I need to start learning
Portuguese
.

“Ladies, I’m leaving,” I tell Rachelle and Katrina as soon as I get to the dorm. I look around briefly before grabbing a duffle bag and stuffing a few necessities inside.

“What’s up?”

“Since our early class tomorrow was canceled, I think a weekday stay in Manhattan is in order.”

“Jon can’t live without you?” Rachelle says dramatically.

“Actually, he has no idea I’m coming.”

“You’re not going to see him?”

“I’m going to surprise him. I’ll be back for my poetry class at ten.” My roommates, having been very encouraging of my relationship with Jon, help me get my things together.

I call Jon, not to tell him I’m coming home, but to find out what his plans are for the night. He lets me know he’s working at the firm until eight and was planning to head to the library until midnight, giving Fred and his girlfriend the dorm for a few hours.

On the way home, I can’t help but get a little excited about the idea of having my artwork on buildings. Maybe she’ll want me to paint her art... but in the end, it doesn’t matter whose art, as long as I can learn about the techniques and materials, and the logistics of the craft.

Once I drop off my things, I head over to the skyscraper where Jon works. A security guard welcomes me by name in the lobby, even though I’ve never been to the building before.

“Miss Holland, are you lost?”

“No,” I laugh a little. “I’m here to see Jon Scott. He works for Willow, Dash and Miller Design. Is he still here?”

“Let me call up there. I know he works late some nights,” he says, picking up the phone and dialing his extension. “Is this Jon? You have a visitor in the lobby. Yes. Livvy Holland is here to see you.” He smiles at me as he hangs up. “He’ll be right down.”

“Thank you,” I tell the officer before I start to wander around the area, looking at the paintings on the wall. They’re prints, actually, of overused street scenes from an artist that was prolific in the 1980’s. I have never been a fan, as the images are just too mundane for my liking.

“Liv,” Jon calls from about thirty feet away. “Are you alright?”

My smile is wide at the sight of him. I expected him to be wearing slacks and a nice, pressed shirt, but he’s in jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt that’s too loose for me to see any muscle definition. Still, seeing him at all makes me happy. “I’m great.”

“Why aren’t you at school?” he asks, still looking concerned as he greets me with a hug.

“Tomorrow’s early class was canceled,” I explain, “and I thought I’d surprise you. Have you had dinner yet?”

“I have not,” he says softly. He releases me to give me a sweet kiss. “I would love to take you out.”

“Nope, it’s my treat. I have a table reserved...
somewhere
.”

“Am I dressed okay?” he asks.

“You’re fine,” I tell him. “Always.”

“Thanks. Do I have time to wrap things up? I just need to put away the watercolors.”

“Of course. Can I help? Can I see where you work?” He walks over to the guard and requests a visitor’s badge. After he pins it on my jacket, he takes my hand in his as we walk to the elevator. Once the large metal doors close us in, he presses the button for the 67th floor and backs me up against the wall.

“Are you just here for dinner?” he asks me, then kisses me fully. I make a noise, trying to say no to him, and eventually thinking he understands as his hands cradle me in closer. He moans a little before he releases me for air just before the elevator reaches its destination. “The loft?”

“Of course,” I answer him weakly, in need of breath and feeling my cheeks turn red.

“Do we have to go to dinner then?” he asks, putting his arm across my shoulders and directing me down a long hallway. He kisses my cheek as he badges in to the office. “We can pick something up...”

“No, we have to,” I respond. “You’ll thank me for it, I promise.”

“Can I show you off for a second?”

“I guess.” He pulls me into an office where a woman is staring at two large computer screens.

“Maya,” Jon says, startling her. She turns to look at us, and her face lights up when she sees me. She immediately stands up, straightening the skirt of her long, cotton dress. “This is Livvy Holland.”

“I know who it is,” she says. “Livvy, it’s so nice to finally meet you!”

“Maya works in accounting, and she has always had a crush on your father–”

“Jon!” she shrieks, then laughs nervously. “I mean, yes, he’s handsome–”

“It’s okay,” I cut her off. “You’re not the first.” I smile assuringly, reaching to shake her hand.

“I can’t believe you told her that,” she says as an aside to Jon.

“Sorry,” he says, but he’s not. “I’m just going to close up, and then we’ll be leaving. Have a great night. Tell Kenny I said hello... and that he
will
use algebra someday.”

“I will. Good night, Jon. Nice to meet you, Livvy.”

“You, too.”

Jon walks confidently further into the office to a back corner that looks like anything but your stereotypical corner office. Two drafting tables sit in the middle of the tiny room, the stools positioned so that Jon would be confronted with the other artist in the room at all times. I move to stand in front of one of two thin windows that run from the floor to the ceiling, barely wider than my small frame. Blinds are pulled all the way up to reveal a view of the building next door. I can even see inside some of the offices across the way.

Jon’s left arm snakes around me as he points with his right hand to a brightly-lit window a few floors below ours. “Some unseemly stuff happens in that one,” he says. “Late at night.”

“You watch?”

“No, I don’t watch,” he clarifies. “I’ve
seen
it, but I don’t watch.”

“Then you’ve watched,” I taunt him playfully.

He turns me around to face him and kisses me.

“I don’t want people to see us,” I tell him quietly, pushing him away. He looks down at me, nodding in acceptance.

“Let me straighten up.”

He takes some brushes with him across the hall to a men’s bathroom. I look at his work, impressed with what I see. It’s a mid-sized multi-story home overlooking mountains and an ocean. “Who designed this?” I ask when he returns.

“I did,” he says plainly, putting away some books.

“I thought you were here to re-draw things... you know, perfect them in a rendering.”

“For the most part, I am. This isn’t for work. We don’t design houses. We design commercial structures and public spaces.”

“That’s what I thought,” I tell him. “Is this for school?”

“Nope. Just something I’ve been thinking about.” He stands slightly behind me, putting one hand on my hip and the other on the table.

“Is this your dream home?” When he doesn’t answer, I look back to see him with a faint smile and a faraway look. “I love it.”

“Yeah?” he asks.

I nod. “Where is it?”

“I’m not sure,” he answers. “I don’t think I’ve been there before.”

“Hmmm...”

“Will you live there with me, Livvy?” he asks softly, pressing his lips lightly against my ear. I back into him, nestling into his chest. He wraps me in his arms, holding me steady as my stomach does little flips. I love that he’s thinking about a future. I hope he still feels that way in a few hours.