Catching Rainbows

24

We finished painting just as my aunt came out in her old pink terrycloth bathrobe, shading her eyes against the bright morning. "Hi?" she said questioningly as she smoothed her bed hair down, embarrassed to be seen in her disheveled state.

"There was some vandalism to the bookstore last night," I said as if it were no big deal.

"It was my, um, ex boyfriend," Chloe put in, the words rushed together. "He's kind of a dick."

My aunt was tired and hungover but not born yesterday. She glanced at the tarps still covering the windows and the paintbrushes on the rim of the can, then at me, and finally back to Chloe. "Say no more," she said.

"They're coming to fix the windows soon," Chloe added anyway.

"We appreciate that, thank you." She yawned and waved, heading back to the house. "Now, for coffee."

My friend wasn't done. "I'm really sorry."

My aunt shook her head as she walked back to the house. "It's not your fault," she called over her shoulder. "Don't blame yourself."

"See?" I said knowingly. "She gets it." I saw a white truck slowing down and looking at addresses, so I waved to get the driver's attention.

My phone rang so she went to talk to the glass people while I answered it. "Hello?"

"Officer Hernandez here. We're about to release Keith on bail; I wanted you to be aware. Unfortunately, he'll probably slip any charges when he goes to court because he technically has a valid excuse for dropping his wallet on your property."

I'd figured as much. "Thanks for letting me know," I told her, and joined Chloe as she took the clipboard and signed in two places before handing it back to the burly glass guy.

I pulled down the tarp over the first window, tacks popping out, glass crunching underfoot. "They just called to let us know they're releasing him," I said quietly to her.

Her jaw clenched, and she sighed. "I was hoping against hope they would find a reason to keep him," she admitted. She had a smear of blue on her nose.

"I know," I said. "Me too." I walked her to the back parking lot and we stood by her car. She reached out and took my hand and gave me a little tug until we were close enough to kiss. She tasted like coffee and sugar and every last thought went out of my head as my arms went around her. If only I could keep her from leaving.

But I knew she wanted to get home before he did, and I let her go reluctantly. She got in the car and started it, rolling the window down. "No Name" started blasting and she turned it down sheepishly. "I like NF," she said needlessly.

"So do I," I told her.

She looked up at me and the corner of her mouth lifted. I couldn't help but notice she wasn't leaving. "So do I get another kiss or . . . ?"

I didn't need to be asked twice. I rested my arms on the door and leaned through the window to meet her lips with mine, which led to a minute or two of making out, however uncomfortable my position may have been. I would have stood there as long as she wanted with her hand in my hair, no doubt. Her kisses were soft and bold and everything I needed.

Finally she broke away with a look of wonder, biting her swollen lip, sending heat down my spine to pool in my core. "I really, really, really, really don't want to go," she said, as if I didn't know that. "But I have to. I do." Regret replaced some of the wonderment. "For now."

I wished she was saying I do in another context. Honestly, I was in that whole see-us-together-for-the-rest-of-our-lives mood. "I really, really, really, really don't want you to," I responded, fixing a curl over her ear that didn't need fixing and brushing her lips with mine one last time. "Come back soon," I said, stepping back against my own will, not wanting to make it harder for her.

She blew me one last kiss and then was gone.

I managed to get a nap in that afternoon and when eleven that night rolled around, I told my aunt I was going to get some snacks at 7-Eleven. She was still up, working on bills, though I would have to go over them the next day because she wasn't exactly sober. Hailie was asleep but I was glad my aunt was awake because she was hard to wake up once she passed out.

I didn't plan on being gone long though.

In fact I did not go to the convenience store, but rather drove past Chloe's house to make sure Keith's big ass "I can't get my dick hard and am making up for it with this truck" truck was there. It was, so I continued to the little shopping center at the end of her street. I parked at the all-night laundromat and walked the eight houses back to hers, taking only my keys and a small drill bit held in vice clamps.

Chloe's house was dark and no lights went on when I crouched next to the truck, which I was glad to see had the right kind of tires for my plans. Using the vice clamps to hold the bit, I steadily turned it through the sidewall of the first front tire, because that couldn't be patched like the tread could. This took longer than I was comfortable with, and I then moved to the rear one on that side to do the same.

The houses around me were dark, and it was the kind of neighborhood where one did not let one's dogs bark after dark, which was in my favor.

I finally finished with three of the tires and my hand was cramping up but it was worth it. He wouldn't notice anything until he'd driven for awhile, which would cause the tires to deflate. Insurance wouldn't cover it because I hadn't done all four, not that money mattered to him.

I had a little tube of air-drying cement with me by chance and I smashed a bit of the putty-like material into each key lock. He would undoubtedly have a key fob for unlocking his doors, and likely wouldn't even notice what I'd done until it broke or the battery in it went dead at some point.

But revenge, dish served cold, etc.

I removed the rubber strips from his wipers too, taking them with me as I sneaked back to my car and returned home. I was shaking a little from the adrenaline and really glad to get back into my house.

I knew what I'd done would mostly just inconvenience him but it still made me feel better. Sometimes it's the little things.