Maddie fumbled for the door handle and stumbled from the car onto the sidewalk. There, she could tell exactly why everyone was staring at her car. The Penis Picasso had spray-painted a giant penis wearing an apron on the hood of her Mercedes. Her jaw dropped open, words failing her. This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t possibly be happening.
“Holy shit,” Emmett said as he joined her on the sidewalk. He ran his fingers through his messy hair and shook his head. “You were right, he did strike last night. He just did it after we fell asleep.”
“He knew. He knew we were looking for him. The bastard waited until we passed out and did this just to thumb his nose at us.” Maddie reached out and drew her finger across the hood, but the paint had long dried. “What am I going to do? I can’t just drive around Rosewood with a giant . . . thing .
. . on my car.”
Emmett wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulder, bringing back memories from the night before. Even his warm cologne and strong embrace couldn’t make this moment go away.
Especially not when a bright light flashed across her car. They both turned in time to see Clark Newton from the Rosewood Times snapping photos of her car. “Wow,” he said, taking shot after shot. “The sixth one. And on your car, too. Maddie, do you mind giving me a few words for the paper about this?”
She watched him let the camera hang loose around his neck as he reached for the notepad and pencil in his pocket.
“How does it feel to be the latest victim of the Penis Picasso?”
She shook her head, not quite able to find the words. All she could do was turn her head back toward her beautiful, ruined graduation present and stare at the damage. “Violated,” she managed at last. That was a good word.
Clark scribbled on his pad. “Why do you think the Penis Picasso chose your car to target?”
“Because he knows we’re onto him,” Emmett said, saving her from the unwanted interview. “Madelyn and I plan to catch the Penis Picasso and put an end to this crude vandalism. Rosewood is a nice town. It doesn’t deserve to have trash roaming around free.”
“You plan to catch him?” Clark said with a note of incredulity in his voice. “Do you subscribe to the idea that this is just a teenage prankster?”
“We did at first,” Emmett said. “But now it’s gone too far. Whoever is doing it likes the notoriety. And you’re not helping the matter,” he added pointedly.
Clark looked up from his notepad. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re sensationalizing it. Splashing photos of his work across the front page of the paper, giving him that stupid nickname . . . He likes the attention and you’re giving it to him. If we all ignored him, the graffiti would probably stop.”
“You think so?” Clark said, looking at him curiously.
“I know so. Interview over. Get in the car, Fancy.”
Maddie didn’t argue. They climbed back into her car and she started the engine. She didn’t want Clark taking any more photos of it. “Where are we going?”
“We’re driving over to Anthony’s Auto Shop.”
Maddie backed out of their parking spot, her hesitation evident in her speed down the street. “I don’t think the Anthony family likes me very much. You saw what happened with my dad and Logan at the courthouse.”
Emmett dismissed her concerns. “Vince Anthony doesn’t care about all that. He’s a businessman and he wants everyone’s business, including the Chamberlains’. Just like you want everyone’s business for your bakery. Would you refuse to make a wedding cake for Pepper and Grant’s wedding reception?”
“Of course not.” She turned down Morning Glory Road and pulled into the auto shop. “They’re not going to be open on Sundays.”
“That’s fine. We’ll give them a call and see if someone can come down and pull the car into the garage to keep it safe.”
“I can’t just leave it here, Emmett. I need my car.”
He chuckled as he picked up his phone. “Do you really want to drive this around town until you can get it fixed?”
He was right. She couldn’t do that. As it was, she was going to be the laughingstock of the town. If it took a few days to get it repainted, she’d survive. She walked to work, and if she was desperate for groceries, she could always see if her mother or one of her brothers could give her a ride.
She sat quietly as Emmett called someone. “Hey, it’s Emmett. Do you have the keys to your dad’s garage?” He hesitated. “Yeah, we’re right outside. If you could open up, we’ll pull the car in and leave it for them to worry about tomorrow. Sure thing.”
“Who was that?” she asked after he hung up.
“Logan.” Emmett pointed to the house across the street with the sign that read ANTHONY, ATTORNEY AT LAW on the lawn. “He’s right across the street and can let us in. We’ll worry about the rest later.”
A few minutes later, Logan jogged across the street in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. Since he’d moved back, she hadn’t ever seen him at the church, so he was probably enjoying a lazy Sunday morning.