CHAPTER THREE

Grey

I lost the tie and I went into the back and turned off the heat. If my mom wanted me here for another couple of hours, that was fine. But I wasn’t about to suffer any more than was absolutely necessary. Luckily my mom already outlined where she wanted all of Luca’s work to go, so this time I wasn’t subjected to her whims and the sun’s exact fucking beams. They were back in Mom’s office going over contracts and creating a price sheet, so I was left to get this project done on my own.

I hadn’t really taken a moment to check out her work while I was hanging it. I’d wanted to finish my task and go do something more interesting. Maybe I’d stop by my dad’s shop on the way home, bring him a peppermint mocha and make sure he’d forgiven me. My dad’s anger dissipated much quicker than my mom’s. It probably had something to do with his A.D.D.

I took a step back after hanging the last piece. Yep. Exactly what I’d expected from little miss put together. Light colors, pastels and shades of beige. Huge canvases covered in clouds or flowers or pretty landscapes. Beautiful. But boring. Like Luca. Art imitating life. Maybe my mom owed Aunt Evie a favor or something because this collection was not what her gallery usually housed.

I went to escape out the front door, but stopped short when something caught my eye in one of Luca’s paintings. Was that a woman on her knees? No. There was no way. Was there? Hidden in the background of the picturesque field of wildflowers, there appeared to be someone getting head. Was I crazy?

I moved to another piece, searching it for hidden brushstrokes. There. Words, hidden, almost the same shade as the clouds. I knew that song. I like the way you still say please while you’re looking up at me. Damn. I kept studying each piece, seeking the treasure locked inside.

I chuckled, whispering to myself. “Is that a man snorting a line of coke?”

“Is that what you see?”

I jumped a foot in the air, not realizing that Luca had come to stand behind me. I swallowed, cocking my head to the side, going for unaffected. “Yeah. Art’s subjective though, right?”

“It is.” She stepped up beside me, moving her head to match mine, like she wanted to see her work the exact way I was viewing it. “However, not everyone can so quickly see what I’m hiding in these paintings. If they did, my dad would probably shit a brick.”

I turned to her, a sly smile on my face. “You’re hiding actual sex, drugs, and rock and roll in your pieces?”

“I am.”

“Because you don’t want your daddy to see?”

“It’s a little more complex than that, but sure.” She moved to the next canvas, glancing behind her before she used her finger to show me the word spelled out in flower petals.

Fuck. Beautiful, and anything but boring. Her and her work. I was intrigued, I was fascinated. I studied her, like this was the first time I was seeing her, like she was the art.

Searching for what I’d so quickly dismissed.

Her long blonde hair, soft and shiny. Her tiny nose turned up slightly like she was born unimpressed. Blue eyes, dark though, like a storm. Her sweater hid too much, but her skirt hugged her tight ass.

She was here for a few days, and I had time to kill.

I turned to face her, giving her my full attention. “If you ever need to work out those daddy issues of yours, I’m your guy.” I shrugged. “It’s sort of my specialty.”

She smiled, biting at her lip as her lashes fanned her high cheekbones. “It’s comical that you think I want to work through my issues.” She gestured to her art. “If I was well adjusted, how would I ever find the space to create.” She winked and then turned on her actual ballerina flats, calling over her shoulder, “See you around, Grey.”

***

I walked into Revival Ink, high fiving the chick manning the front counter. She was our piercer, fantastic at her job, and gorgeous to boot. She wasn’t into dicks though, the appendage or the personality. “Mal, how’s it going?”

“Busy. We could’ve used your help over break. Way to fuck us all over with your bullshit.” She pulled me in for a warm hug, because really who could stay mad at me? No one, if you hadn’t caught that yet.

“Believe me, I’m learning consequences. Jail would’ve been easier.” My arms were aching. I worked out, I stayed active. But holding giant paint-filled canvases over my head all day was brutal. I knew I would barely be able to hold my toothbrush tomorrow morning.

“Bleu is finishing up with his last client of the day.” She jerked her head toward the back of the building. “I made cookies, go have a snack and wait for your daddy.”

I let her comment slide, there were cookies to be eaten. Mal made the yummiest desserts. She could open her own bakery if she didn’t enjoy shoving needles into peoples’ bodies so damn much. She’d been at Revival Ink since I was in high school, she pierced my dick. Baby boring piercing, my ass. It’d hurt, and taken a long time to heal. My dad could fuck off with his piercing hierarchy.

I munched on a cookie and took out my cell, typing Luca Maxwell into the search bar. Nothing about her art came up. Not a website, not a LinkedIn, no social media. Nada. Maybe she was one of those artists that was above promotion, like it was beneath her to dabble her wears on the internet.

“Try Luca James.” My dad popped his head over my shoulder. “She uses her middle name for her art.”

“Wear a bell, old man.” That was the second time today someone had decided to try to give me a mini heart attack. I also hated the fact he’d caught me creeping. I switched my search and the page loaded dozens of articles and websites. “Here I got you this, peace offering.”

He chuckled and took the coffee out of my hand. “How did it go today at the gallery?”

“Fine.” I slipped my phone back into my pocket, not about to scour Google images in front of my father. “Your wife is a master at penance. It’s the little things really: the tie, cranking up the heat in the building, making me move pieces around only for them to end in their original location.”

“Well kiddo, we learned early on with you that subtle pisses you off more.” He leaned against the door frame, a smug smile on his face. “Changing the password to the wifi, taking all your device chargers and locking them in my closet, only buying pea milk for two weeks.”

My parents were inventive, I’ll give them that. “Did you know that sweet little Luca James was hiding dick pics in her art.”

“Among other things.” He grabbed another cookie, handing it to me. “You think your mom signed on to fill her gallery with flowers and pretty pictures? You know her better than that.”

“And her dad doesn’t know?” Kasen didn’t strike me as stupid, or blind.

My dad shrugged. “He knows, he simply doesn’t comment on it. Kasen has spent his entire life around artistic people. The good, the bad, and the ugly. He and Emmie know why their daughter’s art sells. But they also know why she creates, and that matters more.”

“She crazy?” I had to ask. I’d also spent my entire life around artistic people. Some were talented, some were haunted, and some were plan insane.

“No.” He scoffed, then narrowed his eyes like he was trying to peer inside my pretty skull. “She’s also not for you.”

Not for me? Nonsense. Every hidden hot mess was for me. “Because?”

He straightened. “We’re close with her parents.”

“Puhleeeese. Those Devil’s Spawn’s kids are all over each other, and I’m not convinced some of them aren’t actually blood related. I mean how do they even keep track? The family tree is starting to look a little wonky if you ask me.” He was going to have to do better than that if he wanted me to keep my hands off Luca.

“Okay.” He took a step closer to me, trying on his best authoritative parent glare. “She’s signed with your mother’s gallery, where you currently work. It’s a conflict of interest.”

I faked a dramatic yawn. “I’m seasonal help, at best.”

He snorted, trying to hide a laugh. “How about…liability?” He nodded, like he was proud of himself. “It’s a liability to have you get involved with one of your mother’s artists.”

“Liability? In what way?” It’s not like I was going to take her bungie jumping off the nearest bridge, or play that stabby knife through the fingers game before I fucked her.

“You have a terrible track record with the ladies. Tears scatter behind you like a trail of breadcrumbs marking your path through this world.” He mimed spreading crumbs. And I stifled an eye roll. “You’ll break her heart. And that, my dude, is a liability.”

I didn’t agree. I’d met Luca once, briefly, but she didn’t strike me as the kind of girl who would let her heart enter into the equation when it came to me. She’d handed me my ass and then strutted away with a wink. I was pretty sure I’d met my match. “I think you’re wrong about her, I think—”

“I think that doing anything to further upset your mother after she had to bail you out of jail a few nights ago is ill advised.”

Dammit. He had me there. Mom seemed super fucking irritated with me. The last thing I wanted to do was make things harder on her than they already were.

I sighed, hanging my head in concession. “Fine. You win this round, old man.” I grabbed the container of cookies off the table. “I’m taking my shit, and I’m going home.” He chuckled, shoving me playfully out the door.