“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.