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Max pulls the car up to a parking garage. He clicks a button on the machine that draws out a ticket and drives all the way up to the top of the building.
He parks and rushes out to open the trunk. I follow him, and so do Madeleine and Savini.
Max pulls out a black duffle bag, throwing it over his shoulder. Madeleine shoves him aside, grabbing a stack of glass plates.
“What is this?” I finally ask.
“You’re ruining the element ofsurprise, Nina. Follow me,” she says, slamming the trunk shut.
She skips down the concrete like a five-year-old child with no worries in the world. I would pay big money to know what goes through her head.
“Give me the bag, Maxie,” she says once we catch up to her.
“I think you need to correct yourself if you want the bag.”
She scoffs at him while Savini laughs, grabbing onto my shoulders. “Fine. Max, Give me the bag, please?”
“Better.” He doesn’t smile at her; he doesn’t show any emotion toward her at all.
Savini rushes toward her, both rummaging through the bag. They pull out spray paint and a plastic bag full of Sharpies.
“This is a little illegal, isn’t it?” My eyes widen.
“That’s the fun of it!” Madeleine throws her arms into the air as she dances in circles. How could I forget how much fun she can be? “Come on, we used to do this all the time growing up.”
We did. We did it far too much. “Okay, fuck it,” I say.
“Language,” Max says.
I glare at him.
There is only one wall on the roof of the building: the wall that is connected to the elevator.
“Paint what pisses you off!” Savini shouts.
Staring at the wall, I contemplate how I could paint Giovanni. He gets under my skin, constantly threatening me then somehow making me feel better. That’s what pisses me off, the emotional whiplash.
I grab red spray paint and take a step toward the wall. Blank, pure white.
I am beginning to feel like this wall. That’s ridiculous. But it’s true. I was fine before Gio. He took a lot from me. God knows if any man will even take me anymore. Not to mention Papa doesn’t even know what is embedded in my skin right now.
Before I give it any more thought, I tilt my head and push down on the nozzle, and red paint coats the wall.
Red. His favorite color, and my least favorite.
My hands move in circles as the spray falls on my dress. At this point, I don’t even care. This feels great.
I step back, admiring my work. It’s not even work, it’s just a word, but it gets the message across.
Max paces toward me. He is now standing at my side with his arms crossed and his lips pinched.
“What?” I ask.
“Spades.”
“Spades,”I repeat, nodding my head as Madeleine and Savini dart toward the wall for their turn to paint.
21GIOVANNI
