Dozens and dozens of cans of paint were arranged in the corner of the room, large pieces of cardboard next to them. Tools I couldn’t identify—and in no sort of organization—covered a table along the wall.
“Wow.” It was the only word I could seem to get out.
“It’s controlled chaos. I know.”
But it was beautiful in its own way. “How does it work?”
Brody crossed to his desk, flipping a sketchpad closed before I could see what was inside. “It depends on the project. Usually, I sketch out a concept first. Then I move to stencils. I’ll cut out the forms I need for each color from the cardboard. It allows me to layer the images easily and then go back in for the details. It’s a throwback to when I did these on the sides of buildings and had to work quickly so I didn’t end up in lockup.”
My eyes widened. “You were arrested for this?”
The smile that stretched across Brody’s face was one I hadn’t seen from him before. Full of life and mischief. And it was captivating. “More than once. But I stick to material I own these days. Canvas mostly. But I’ve been experimenting with other mediums, too.”
“Can I see a finished one?”
Brody shifted on his feet. “I haven’t finished anything since I’ve been here. But, um…here.” He flipped open his laptop and hit a few keys. A website came to life on his screen. He clicked a few times and, suddenly, an image of a teenage boy filled the screen. He was well-kempt with perfectly styled hair and preppy clothing. It was shockingly realistic for what I now knew was spray paint.
But seeping out of the boy’s arms was a dark, almost smoke-like substance. And within it were needles, vials, and other drug paraphernalia. Near his mouth were pills and booze. Above his head were words of anger and self-hatred. And in his chest cavity was a stylized broken heart.
“That’s…” I didn’t have the words I needed to describe the scene in front of me. Everything I could think of was far too lacking.
Brody shut the computer screen. “It’s a little too dark for some people.”
“No. It’s not. It’s real.”
He turned slowly to face me. Coming closer than we’d ever been since the day he’d taken his suitcase from my hands on the dock. “Real is the best compliment there is.”
8
Brody
I stepped back from the canvas, the spray paint can faintly rattling as I lowered my hand. It had been so long since I’d worked freehand. And it showed in my technique—or lack thereof. It wasn’t even close to what I wanted. Sure, the piece was a little different than what I usually went for. And that was good. But it wasn’t the image in my head. It didn’t even match the rough sketch on my pad.
I set the spray paint on the floor and peeled off my gloves and mask. The first few years I’d delved into my obsession, my fingers had been continuously stained with color. It wasn’t until I fell in with a crew who was more serious about their work that I’d discovered the miracle of gloves. “Comes in handy if the police stop you for questioning. No evidence.” One of the older guys in the crew had told me.
Now it just saved me from having to scrub my hands with a Brillo pad and losing a few layers of skin in the process. I picked up my sketchpad and studied the likeness looking back at me. Shay with her violin propped on her shoulder, eyes closed, lost in the music the way I could only imagine she looked. Wisps of hair escaping her braid and framing her face. Wild and untamed. Flying through the air and then transforming into something else entirely. Dark red smoke that, if you looked closer, was really a flock of birds. Her passion and freedom. The only way she seemed to experience them—through music.
The concept was sound. I simply wasn’t executing it well enough. I let out a growl as I dropped the pad to the table. I couldn’t even look at the canvas.
Space. Maybe a little fresh air. Check on the progress of the studio. See what Shay was up to. I headed outside through one of the French doors, half blocked by all of my crap. I made a silent vow to actually organize my materials when I moved into my new space.
I followed the now-familiar path down the hill and towards the worksite. As it came into view, I marveled at the progress they’d made in just a few weeks. The land had been leveled, part of the hillside carved away, and the foundation poured. I knew next to nothing about construction, but it looked as if I might be getting some framing soon. Or maybe a floor.
Hunter waved me over when he caught sight of me approaching. “Hey, Brody.”
“I can’t believe all the progress you’ve made already.”
He surveyed the work in front of him. “We’re in the groove now. We’d be moving even faster if we didn’t have to deal with that pain in the ass hill.”
I grimaced as I took in the incline. The crew had been forced to get creative with how they’d gotten equipment through the trees. “Sorry about that.”
“It’ll be worth it for the view. Why don’t you come meet my foreman and some of the crew? I don’t think I’ve formally introduced you.”
“Sounds good. I met Sam the other day, but no one else.”
He started towards the group, who was currently organizing a pile of lumber. “Guys, this is the boss, Brody James.”
“Already met the boss man. Hey, Brody. How’s the new piece coming?” the burly man asked.
“Kiss-ass,” another man, who I was pretty sure was named Manny, muttered.
Sam grinned at him. “Intimidated by actual conversation that requires more than two words?”
A third man crossed to me, shaking his head as he held out a hand. He had a warm smile, the white of his teeth gleaming against his darker skin. “Don’t mind those two. It’s like this all the time. I’m Cal, the foreman around here. If you need anything and Hunter’s not around, come find me.”
“Nice to meet you, Cal. Brody. Thanks for all your hard work on this place.”
“Happy to. And with a killer view, too.”
He wasn’t wrong. When this place was finished, it would be stunning. The main house had views from the second story, but they wouldn’t compare with this studio and its wall of windows facing the sea. “It’s going to be epic when it’s done.”
“You’re right about that,” Hunter chimed in. “Sorry about the back and forth. Those two are like oil and water.”
“No worries. I just wanted to stop by and check things out on my way to find Shay. Have you seen her around?” I asked.
Sam’s attention turned to us at the sound of Shay’s name. “Think she’s in the greenhouse. Hey, do you know if she’s single?”
I tensed at the question, but before I could answer, Hunter strode towards Sam and slapped him upside the head. “You’re here to work, not hit on women that want nothing to do with you.”
He shrugged before turning back to the pile of lumber. “Can’t blame a man for asking. A guy would walk through fire for a woman like that.”
My jaw tightened. I could do more than blame him for that. I had the sudden urge to fire him on the spot. Which was completely ridiculous and possibly a little insane. I gave myself a mental shake. “I’m headed out, but just come by the house if you need anything.”