Graffiti Casanova

The Rose, The Lily

Fresh air filled my lungs as Lana and I stepped outside, a welcome displacement of the heavy air caused by the paint fumes. We leaned against the wall near the door, flexing our stiff fingers that had cramped up from holding the triggers down for an hour or so.

"Your daddy by himself tonight?" Lana looked over at me. "Poor man, I bet he gets in all kinds of trouble when you're not around to take care of him."

I gave her a weak smile, her teasing words jolting me in a way she couldn't realize. But no, he'd be fine. I took a deep breath. He was tracking guitar with another band when I left and had probably gone to bed early; I'd left notes around the house reminding him of where I was, just in case.

"Nah, he's probably asleep already," I said.

Lana twisted her wrist up to check her watch. "He's the smart one. It's past my bedtime, Honey Buns!"

The guys were spilling out of the diner also, some of them heading to their cars. Casanova broke off from the group and headed towards us.

"Hey ladies! Thanks for your help tonight. I'm sending the guys home now so they can get some sleep. We'll finish the inside tomorrow and then do the outside overnight after that."

"Should I lock up or are you hangin' around a bit longer?" Lana asked.

Casanova glanced behind him at the door. "There were a couple things I wanted to check first, but I can--"

"Claire, you mind staying and locking up for me? I'm beat!" Lana tossed the keys to me.

"Sure."

"Well then, I'm outta here. Being a graffiti artist is hard work!" She winked at me and disappeared.

Casanova turned to me. "I'll be as quick as I can, I promise."

I shook my head. "Take your time. I've got nowhere to be."

He nodded and turned to send off the rest of his crew. I could tell Mark was hanging around, not wanting to leave. Casanova approached him and spoke to him lowly. I couldn't catch what was being said but I saw Mark frown and his gaze cut to me for a split second. I rolled my eyes and turned away, leaning back against the wall. He didn't have to like me. He just needed to get over himself.

But a minute later, he was walking away and digging in his pocket for his car keys, and Casanova was ducking back inside. I pushed off the wall and followed him, stopping just inside the doorway.

He seemed to have forgotten I was there as he rounded the diner, brushing fingers over the walls and checking to see if the paint was dry yet. He stopped at the far wall, which was painted red, and leaned down to rummage through a bag on the floor. When he straightened, he was wearing his gas mask and shaking a can of silver paint.

I stepped closer to watch as he lifted the can and started drawing wide arcs of silver, forming an outline of a large shape and smaller circles surrounding it. His confidence was fascinating; He never hesitated or wavered, he just moved and the paint did exactly what he wanted.

His designs were empty shapes, but I could see the pattern emerging and smiled.

"Lana will love this."

Casanova turned to me, remembering my presence. "You think?" I'd thought his voice would be muffled behind the gas mask, but I could understand him quite clearly. Since his nose and mouth were now covered by his mask, his hood had shifted back a bit, showing his eyes, but I couldn't tell what color they were from here.

"She didn't give me much to go on, and although I love the freedom to do what I want, I tried to draw up plans she'd like."

"How do you make plans for something this big?" I moved closer, gaze tracing the lines flowing across the wall.

"My black book. Like a sketchbook, but much more incriminating." He winked at me and moved to the next wall, skimming a finger over it. 

He seemed younger than I'd initially thought. Casanova had been active for about ten years, so I'd always assumed he was older. I studied him curiously. He must've gotten started at a very young age.

I stopped myself from asking him about it. Of course he wouldn't answer-- why would he give me any details that could get him put away if I blabbed? He barely knew me.

So I asked a different question, even though I wasn't sure he'd answer that one either.

"Why did you send Mark to find me after getting the message about the Easter lily?"

Casanova was crouched next to his duffle bag, holding a can of grass-green paint. He paused mid-shake, turning his head to look at me.

The room was silent for a moment, only the hum of a rotating fan in the corner making any noise.

"Why did you go look at my painting that night?"

I blinked at his volley back. I didn't know what to say. Partly because I didn't know the answer but mostly because I suspected I did and just didn't want to go there.

"I..." I wanted to lie and say I was just passing it and stopped to get a closer look, but I was a terrible liar. Besides, I'd asked him just as unfair a question ten seconds earlier.

"I'm sorry for asking," I muttered, turning back to look at the silver streaks on the wall.

I expected to hear him resume his painting, but all I heard was the rotating fan, back and forth.

"I heard your song that night."

I spun back to face him, startled. "What?"

"The night I painted that. I heard your song." He peered up at me. "The one about roses?"

My stomach did a little flip. "Sam's song?" I whispered.

"Sam. Was he...?" Casanova paused, seeming not to know what question he was asking.

"My brother." The tips of my fingers were beginning to feel a little numb. I reached out and gripped a table to keep me steady.

He nodded at the floor, and then looked back up at me. "I'm sorry."

"It was years ago," was my hollow response. It was like a reaction programmed into me, triggered by those words.

"The lily was for him."

My gaze snapped up to meet Casanova's eyes. "That's..."

"That's why I sent Mark to meet you." Casanova straightened. "I--" He paused. "I owe you. For my return, I mean. You played with such passion and emotion and I think..." He tilted his head. "I think you gave me some of it that night. And I wanted to thank you."

I stared at him, unsure of what to say. THE Casanova was thanking me for inspiring him.

"Does that answer your question?" His voice held a smirk, and his eyes held mischief.

I nodded in dumb silence, and he turned back to begin throwing bright-green swirls across the wall.

Reactions to THAT bomb Cas just dropped on Claire?! He finally told her about the lily!! Hit the star and tell me whatcha think! <3

Chapter song is Technicolour Beat by Oh Wonder