Sequel to the Wattpad novel The Age of Aquarius
E.J. Thompson, a reclusive author and former journalist, recalls the tales of four teenage criminals as Brooke King, Caleb Wolfe, and Nessa and Johnny Phoenix had exposed a corrupt billionaire for ille...
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Back at the beach house, Enrique's brilliant illustrations were engulfed by Caleb's eyes. A handful of pictures was drawn from charcoal pencils, Enrique used watercolors, acrylics, and oils on the other pages.
"Enrique was quite the artist," Caleb thinks to himself, skimming through the colorful pages.
Enrique did real-life, abstract, terrains, and cartoons. Several were of birds, people, and the cities in Harlem. However, there were a dozen sketches outlined in pen, charcoal, and even pastel.
Caleb even encountered a portrait of him and Brooke, smiling at each other.
"Whoa," he thought. "When did he do this?"
Unbeknownst to the telepath, I recall the moment when Caleb had asked Brooke out.
It was, I think, September 7th, 1994: the cusp of the fall semester. The young oracle was supposed to be completing her homework at her grandmother's apartment.
But thanks to Caleb's humor and flirtatious smile, Brooke had agreed to go on another date with him. With Enrique as his wingman, Caleb took Brooke to all his favorite places in New York.
They read every single graphic novel in the St. Marks Comics, listened to vinyl music at the Earwax record shop, and ate lunch in a local Chinese restaurant.
Once Brooke and Caleb got to know each other, Enrique sat on the other end of the table and traced their features on his spiral red notebook.
Running his fingers along with the pencil sketch of Brooke, Caleb eyed her dark hair, innocent expression, and contrasting lines shaping his clothes and figure.
As for Caleb's portrayal, Enrique captured his Coogi sweater, camouflage jeans, and Doc Martens sandals. But he could never capture his shaved head.
"Seriously, man?" Caleb groaned aloud. "I look like a bald lesbian!"
His irritation fades when Enrique had the couple sit in a perfectly detailed restaurant booth, holding hands, laughing.
Underneath the drawing was the title: Brooke and Caleb.
Jesus, Enrique, he moans to himself. You promised me that you wouldn't do these things. Why the hell did you join Roman?
Didn't he know that talking to strangers is dangerous?
As much as Caleb despised Mr. Sanchez, he had given Enrique his number and address—in case he wants to pay a visit.
