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I sniffed and shook my head but remained quiet, letting him have his prideful moment.
A second later, I realized he still called me kid. He’d called me that for as long as I’d known him.
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His words from up in my apartment haunted me.
“Do you really think I’m immature?” I couldn’t help but ask, a little hurt by such a summation.
Brick crinkled his nose as he slowed to turn a corner. “Immature? No, but you’re definitely innocent for your age. You lack a certain refinement that would make you seem older. You’re like… Hell, I don’t know, an eager puppy ready to lick life right in the face.”
I blinked, soaking in the mental picture he drew. It didn’t sound that awful to me. “And that’s a bad thing?”
“No,” he murmured thoughtfully as he paused at a red light. “I enjoy it actually. It’s refreshing. I’m happy you haven’t gained that bitter edge that often comes with age and failed experiences.”
Hmm, now his description started to make me sound not-so-good. “So I’m naïve?” I asked, tilting my head to the side as I watched him, honestly wanting to know his opinion.
He pressed the gas as the light turned green. “You’re determined to focus on the good in things,” he stressed. Then he pointed out his side window. “There. Like that sign. That’s you.”
I looked up to see what he was talking about only to find the artwork of Black Crimson spray-painted on the side of a building.
The local graffiti artist everyone loved had struck again, it seemed. This time, Black Crimson had painted the picture of a salesman in a shoe store kneeling in front of a woman who was smiling a face-splitting grin as he attempted to put a cowboy boot on her foot, except her foot was too big for it, so he had to fold her foot in half to make it fit. The quote next to it read:
The happiest people don’t have the best of everything; they just make the best of everything.
I smiled. “That’s a good one.”
“Yep. I’ll give it to Black Crimson; he is quite the philosopher.”
Glancing at him, I grinned. “Or she is.”
He sniffed and sent me a look before smirking. “I bet it’s a he.”
With a disbelieving laugh, I argued, “And I bet it’s a she.”
His eyebrows lifted. “What makes you so sure?”
“Well, she has good taste in quotes. She’s an incredible artist. And she always chooses older, cruddy-looking buildings to paint on, making them prettier, so she’s stylish. Honestly, with her kind of talent, brains, and compassion, how could she be a male?”
“On behalf of all men everywhere,” Brick said, glancing over to take in my challenging grin. He set a hand over his heart. “Ouch. That hurts.”
“Well, I suppose Black Crimson could be a man,” I allowed on a teasing grin before I winked and nudged him with my elbow. “One of those rare ones who actually has a brain in his head.”
Chuckling as he pulled into the parking lot of JFI, Brick shook his head. “The bet is on then, dear sister. I bet you twenty bucks Black Crimson is a man.”
“But what if we never find out who she is?”
His grin was pure male smugness. “Then I guess you get to keep the twenty dollars you just lost.”
I sniffed. “Yeah, right. Though honestly, she can’t keep evading police or reporters forever. Everyone is dying to know who she is. I have a feeling one day her identity will be revealed.”
Brick shrugged his disagreement as he slid from the car and started around to my side. “We’ll see.” Then he shuddered as he took in my costume one more time. “God, this is going to be one interesting night.”
Crooking his arm for me to take his elbow, he led me toward the entrance where a skanky pirate and sexy nurse were already pulling the front doors open to enter before us.
“So, should we track down Elton first and get you two flirting or see what kind of good eats Nash ended up catering in for us?”
I jarred to a halt, completely having forgotten about Brick’s plan to set me up with Christopher Elton. I hadn’t practiced in front of a mirror what I would say to him or even had the time to get sick to my stomach with nerves or anything.
