by Lexy Timms
“Well, I’m the only one who’s going to be back here anyway. And I sort of want to paint it myself. You know, as a personal project.”
Patterns and pictures were already dancing in my gaze. Streaks of golden yellow and oranges were dancing around, plastering themselves on the outer edges as it faded slowly into the middle. Blacks and blues and reds painted the wall in splatters, like someone simply dipped a brush in and flicked it against the wall. I smiled at the chaos coming to life before my eyes. I could hear the laughter of my sister and I as we coated the walls in random colors.
It could be a wonderful project for us, and maybe light a fire underneath her to pursue the life she wanted.
“My first therapy patient,” I said to myself.
“If that’s what you want, then that’s what you’ll get,” Bryan said.
“Thank you. Which means I don’t have to haul those boxes anywhere else,” I said.
“Works out for everyone then.”
“So,” I said as I turned around to face him, “how’s the rest of the place going?”
“Well, after today, all the sheetrock will be replaced. Then we’ll turn our attention to the outer part of the building while a few of the guys are laying down your black flooring.”
“Onyx,” I said.
“That too. Want to step outside with me so I can show you some of my ideas?”
“Sure.”
I followed him through the building and out front, all the while not being able to peel my eyes off him. He had to know what he looked like in that shirt and how distracting his body was right now. The sweat was still running down his neck as he craned his head back to take in the building, and I still felt the urge to run my fingers up underneath his shirt and wet my skin with his scent.
“Do you have a name for your gallery?” he asked.
“Yep. Misty Beauty Art Gallery,” I said.
“Misty Beauty Art Gallery,” he said.
“Don’t like it?” I asked.
“It suits you.”
“Why do I suspect that’s a bad thing?”
“Because you’re secretly insecure and want someone to approve of your choice,” he said, grinning.
“I’m the furthest thing from insecure, thank you very much,” I said.
“Whatever you say,” he said as his grin grew. “What I was thinking of was this. We have a sign protruding out front that rises up above the building. It’ll have the name of the gallery on it, and then one of those electronic signs where you can advertise stuff. If you have a specific artist you’re showcasing or a specific theme you’re going for. Maybe you could advertise a sales deal or a class you’re giving. It’ll be easier to toggle with than one of those signs you slide the letters into. You’d be able to alter what the sign says by simply using the downloaded application on your computer. You’ll have some sort of computer in the gallery with you, right?”
“Yep. It’ll make monetary transactions easier,” I said.
“You have a very eclectic taste but in a beautiful way. Since your message is to bring beauty to the darkness, I figured the backdrop of your sign could be black, the name of your shop could be cream-colored... the same color as the walls of your gallery... and it could have a few splashes or splotches of paint. Not bright, neon colors, but more matte and opaque. A deep blue here, a hunter green there. A pale yellow to bring contrast to the cream-colored letters without being tacky and too bold.”
“I actually like that idea,” I said. “And thank you for the compliment.”
“What?” he asked.
“You said my taste was eclectically beautiful. Thank you.”
“Oh. No, you’re welcome. Anyway, my only issue is painting the building black. Usually, signs and stores match. But I don’t like the idea of painting the entire building black and splotching it like that.”
“Me neither,” I said.
“So, I was thinking about painting the outside of the building cream-colored as well. Make the shutters on the windows black, then trim the doorway and make the door out of that bird’s-eye maple you want to mount the pictures on the wall inside with. Then, we could paint the door something bold. Like a strong crimson red or even the same pale yellow that’ll bring a nice contrast to the sign. We can decide that later. That’s just the basic idea. What do you think?” he asked.
I was absolutely stunned by his vision. Everything tied together without being too formal, and every single part of me could see it. I could see the bird’s-eye maple and the colorful sign. I could see the pale yellow door and the black shutters. I could see what the window into my shop would look like. The artist’s name that would be displayed on the electronic sign as their artwork was staged in the window.
I was shocked speechless at the way he painted that image for me. Just with his words.
“I love it,” I said breathlessly.
“You do?” he asked.
“I love everything about it, Bryan.”
I turned toward him with a wide smile crossing my face. I couldn’t hide my shock. I had no idea what I was getting into with him suggesting ideas on how to do the outside of my gallery, but this was nothing like I expected. It was well thought out and tied into the premise that was building the foundation of this gallery. He had sat down and taken time to run through this. He’d probably drawn it out somewhere to pour it out onto a sheet of paper.
I wondered if he would like to come to a class if only to explore this side of him that was screaming to be let out.
“So, you want us to go for it?” he asked.
“Definitely. I love everything about that image you just painted. Make the door the same pale yellow as the yellow you use on the sign. The bird’s-eye maple swirl pattern will still bleed through a pale color like that, and I really love the design of that type of wood.”
“Whatever you want,” he said. “Now, there’s something I need to talk with you about.”
“What’s up?” I asked.
“We hauled ass these first two weeks to get a lot of stuff done because now the work won’t be every day. We’ll still get it done by the timeframe designated in the contract you signed, but I do have other commitments that require my attention as well. The downtime will allow me to tend to those projects while I order and gather the things we’ll need to get the outside of this place going.”
“That’s fine. I totally understand that,” I said.
“There might be a guy or two that dips in to put some finishing touches on things, but none of the homeless employees will be on-site without someone else from the company here.”
“Like I said, I trust you with this project.”
“We should have all the flooring work done by the end of the week, and then, that’s where we’ll pause. All the electrical wiring is covered up, and the plumbing is back in good working condition. We don’t want to leave anything exposed to any of the elements, so once the flooring has been ripped up and the new one’s been put down, that’ll be our stopping point before the intermittent work begins.”
“Perfect,” I wanted to do something to show my gratitude. Something to show him how absolutely thankful I was that he came knocking on my rickety door that day. I wanted to get him something or treat him to something, maybe paint him someone for free or offer for him to come to the classes once the art gallery’s set up.
But my mouth ran away from me before I could catch myself.
“Would you like to come to dinner with me?” I asked.
“What?”
“You’ve done so much for me so far, taking the pay cut and allowing me to pay you in paintings. You haven’t once offered to cut corners to put more money back into your pocket, and I know you’ve been coming by earlier in the mornings to look things over. You’ve put a great deal of work and emotion into this project, and not once have you ever complained about it.”
“Not to you, at least,” he said, winking.
“All this to say the least I can do is treat you to a dinner.”
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I could tell he was a bit surprised. That playful Bryan I’d just had in front of me while we were talking about colors and letters and signs disappeared rather quickly, and in his place was the reserved, hesitant Bryan I’d gotten to know very well. This Bryan didn’t allow any distractions to derail him from his final goal. This Bryan kept people at arm’s length because of the hurt he’d suffered throughout his life.
But still, there was a twinge of curiosity behind his gaze.
I knew I’d invited him out because of my attraction to him, but I also wanted to show him how grateful I was to him. He was facilitating my dream and allowing this to be possible. Had he not come knocking on my door with his morals and his fantastical ideas, I probably would’ve never seen this completely to fruition. I would’ve allowed the money problems to bury me alive.
It was because of his generosity that I was now able to see this through, and I wanted him to know that.
“I guess that wouldn’t hurt,” he said, much to my utter shock. “I’ve got time in about a week or so. How does that sound?”
“Sounds fine to me. I’m free anytime, really.”
“Until we get this gallery of yours up and running. Then, you won’t have much time at all.”
“And it’ll be absolutely wonderful,” I said, smiling.
“Well, I better get back to work. It’s time for some of my guys to take their lunch break anyway.”
“Yeah, yeah. Go on. Get in there, tiger.”
I physically cringed at how badly that sounded, but the only thing Bryan did was laugh. The sound was so refreshing, like the ocean water pumping life back into a restless, storm-blown town. He looked back at me one last time, his eyes not attempting to hide the fact that he was looking me up and down. I felt my cheeks blazing with fire as he walked back inside ready to dig into some hands-on work while I stayed outside simply staring at the tattered outside of the building.
Was going out with Bryan a bad idea? Yes, I’d suggested dinner, but I also wasn’t denying how attractive he was. It would be easy to lose myself in him for an evening, to fall into his crisp brown eyes and run my fingertips up along the outline of his tattoos. Even as I watched him smooth his large hand over the sheetrock, I could feel my body shiver for him. My fingertips were electric, wanting to shock his body into holding mine as I felt every rippling muscle of his slide along my skin.
If he offered something more, I wasn’t too sure I would be able to deny him.
And honestly? I wasn’t sure I’d want to anyway.
Chapter 13
Bryan
I went back to the office that evening to take care of some paperwork. Things with Hailey’s project needed to be solidified, and I had to check up on some of the other sites. One of the homeless men from one of my projects wanted to interview for a permanent position, and that meant looking over his job record thus far with the company. I needed to evaluate all he’d learned, look at him as an asset to the company instead of someone I was helping, and that required me to be in a place where I was ready to work.
Which meant an evening in my office.
Much to my surprise, Drew was there. Even though he was on the internet surfing through things, it was almost dinnertime. He should’ve been gone by now, and I was wondering if something had gone wrong on a site or something.
“Knock knock,” I said.
“Hey! Fancy seeing you here, stranger.”
“Dick. What’s up? Everything all right?”
“Yeah. Just doing some research,” he said.
“Into what?” I asked.
“Well, the company’s doing so well that I thought about opening my own tattoo shop. I do them on the side anyway, and I’m in need of a new tattoo gun, so why not just open my own little place? Doesn’t have to be much more than me, my things, and a sterile environment.”
“What happened to running the commercial property part of the business we’re starting?” I asked.
“Oh, I still wanna do that, man. But you know how long it took us to get the residential side up and running. It’ll take a year, maybe two, and in the meantime, I could delve into something else. I mean, the business is doing really well. Neither of us are necessary all the time. Some days, I sit around and stare at the fucking wall, dreaming of surfing and shit.”
“Nice to know you’re working hard,” I said, grinning. “That what you’re searching?”
“Huh?”
“A new tattoo gun. Is that what you’re looking up?” I asked.
“Yeah. I need a new one anyway, and the idea just popped into my head.”
“Gotcha. How long you been thinking about this tattooing thing?” I asked.
“About a year.”
“A year? Why am I just hearing about it?”
“I wasn’t really serious about it.”
“But you are now.”
“Look. It’s not something I’m really considering now,” he said.
“Drew, I know you better than that. You don’t talk about shit that’s on your mind. I mean really on your mind. So the fact that you’re bringing this up means it’s important to you, so talk me through it. What would you do if you opened up a side-lining gig tattooing in your own shop? Walk me through the vision.”
“This isn’t one of your projects,” he said.
“Why not? It would be a commercial space. Most buildings like that are. We could put it in the portfolio along with the art gallery to get that part of the business up and going,” I said.
“Speaking of the art gallery, how’s that going? That’s not really your thing. I’m interested to know why you took the job.”
“We’ll talk about that once we’re done with you. Though good job in trying to derail me.”
“I try my hardest at everything, dude,” he said, grinning.
“So. The vision. Paint it for me.”
“Paint it for you?” he asked.
“Shut up and go,” I said.
“Well, it would just be a little shop. I don’t really have a passion to take on employees and make it a big thing. Maybe one other person I could take on as a full-time employee or who could rent a booth or something.”
“All right. How big a space are we talkin’?” I asked.
“Maybe nine hundred square feet. Not much. Enough for someone to come in and sit down, a small area for a check out place to the right, some windows at the front of the shop, and then a small hallway blocked off by a door. A highly sterilized environment.”
“Okay. Okay. Have you priced out inventory for your shop? Hypothetically speaking.”
“I have. Been running numbers and stuff. It fluctuates with the market but between the average rent prices for a space in the part of San Diego I’m looking at, I’d have to clear around three thousand a month to keep inventory stocked, keep the lights going, pay rent, and get myself paid.”
“That’s actually not bad. What part of San Diego you lookin’ at?” I asked.
“The Mission Bay area. Somewhere near the water. Everyone can charge higher prices when they’re near the water, and if I found the right space, I might even be able to give them a water view with their tattoo.”
“Sounds like you’ve really thought this out,” I said.
But all Drew did was shrug.
“Your turn, dude. What gives with this art gallery thing?” he asked.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Well, Hailey isn’t your normal homeless charity demographic. No homeless person is benefitting from this other than working on the job site. It’s fucking commercial property, which is a first for you, and you keep calling the client by her first name. You don’t ever do that shit. Ever.”
“Honestly? I’m not quite sure I know why I’m doing it, but I do know I support her gallery.”
“Why’s that?” he asked.
“She has the same community outreach spirit. Wants to dip into the community and use art therapy as a way to revive the area. I can get behind that.”
“I suppose it does a bit,” I said, sighing. “It was John’s love of art that got me interested in it. He was an amazing painter even from a young age. I mean, come on. You did the tattoo on my back.”
“I did all your tattoos, dude. And I’m using all of them in my portfolio.”
“You know, art was John’s thing. I feel like by helping her, I’m sort of helping him, too,” I said.
“I think this project might be cathartic for you. Especially with the shit that’s going down with your parents.”
“Yeah, they’ve been rough but never this rough,” I said.
“Like I said, I think they’re going through some shit, and they’re not handling it like you are.”
“Obviously,” I said. “And look, this project has me drawing again. Not just blueprints and shit but actual pictures. Hell, she let me design the whole outside of her building and her sign, and she loved the hell out of it.”
My eyes panned over to the wall above Drew. There was a massive painting hanging there, one I’d placed there myself when Drew and I shared this one space. When we had enough money to build my own office space, Drew was insistent I keep it there. It was a drawing John did, and it was the one that formed the basis of the tattoo on my back. It was a picture I’d had blown up and detailed. It was the picture of our family’s cabin we used to go to all the time. The picture on the wall looked a bit different than the one on my back, but I still got lost in it. I could close my eyes and remember us running through the woods and swimming in the creek out back.
That place was the greatest symbol of our childhood innocence. It held memories my brother and I made that no one would ever be able to corrupt. It was one of the reasons why I had it blown up, detailed, and framed. I wanted that reminder of innocence to be there always. To be there to remind me when I lost sight of the happiness that innocence made me feel.
“I wished John could’ve turned more toward his art and less to his drugs,” I said.
“Dude, could I talk to you seriously for a second?” Drew asked.
“What’s up?”
