Page 33 of The Complication
Parker and Joy had to stay here.
“All my walls are white. You have plenty of blank canvases.”
My companion dragged his wide-eyed gaze away from me to peer up at the white walls that surrounded us. He rubbed a hand across his parted lips, and I swore I could almost hear the wheels turning in his head. They had to be such a temptation. Just one seemingly endless wall after another of plain, unbroken white. The possibilities were enormous.
“It…it would take me months to do your entire house. I…” Parker whispered, sounding as if he were talking more to himself than me. His face whipped around to me, his eyes narrowing. “We’re talking original works of art. I don’t take specific requests. People give me a vibe or maybe a color scheme, and they accept what I create for them. My expertise and talent don’t come cheap.”
“I wouldn’t expect it to. I’m offering ten million to paint my house.”
Parker sucked in a breath so loud and sharp, he choked on the air. I patted him on the back as he hacked and fought to clear this throat.
“This house has twenty-five rooms, not counting hallways and servants’ quarters. If you include hallways, that number can be rounded to an even thirty. That averages out to be roughly three hundred and thirty thousand dollars per room. In addition, the expectation would be that you would live here with Joy while you’re working on the rooms, so that you can set your own schedule around Joy’s needs. Naturally, if you’re living here, your living expenses would be covered by me as part of your payment, but outside the ten million for the artwork. After the contract is signed, you would receive two million as a down payment and additional payments would be made as each room is finished.”
Parker stared wordlessly at me as if he didn’t quite know how to react to my offer. I couldn’t blame him. It was very sudden. Prior to this moment, I’d had no plans to paint any of my walls. I didn’t care if they were white. They were that way because I didn’t want to put too much thought into trying to match things like my furniture and other decorations. When I’d had the house built, I’d wanted it simple and neat.
But after seeing Parker’s art, I wanted more. I wanted all those emotions he evoked in the sweep of his brush in my home. They needed to be in every room. Everywhere I stared, his beauty needed to be there.
“I…I want each mural professionally photographed so I can officially include it in my portfolio,” he stammered, but his voice grew stronger as he continued. “And I demand that it be put in the contract that you can’t paint over any piece for a minimum of five years.”
I had no intention of ever destroying his work, but I understood Parker’s desire to have it included in the contract.
“I agree with that. Anything else?”
“No. Yes. I don’t know. I’m still thinking.” Parker shoved to his feet and paced away, but as he moved, his gaze kept straying to the pristine white wall broken only by the windows that looked out onto the backyard.
Just as I was about to open my mouth to tell him to sleep on it, Parker spun around to face me, his expression full of excitement.
“I’ll do it.”
“Really?” I hadn’t expected him to decide so fast. My heart flipped over as I slowly pushed to my feet.
“Why the fuck not?” Parker laughed, throwing his hands up in the air. “It’s a shit-ton of money for me to do what I love. I’d make more than enough to give the full-time artist thing a go for a few years, even while putting Joy in diapers. If I can’t figure out how to be a professionalpaidartist by that point, I’ll go back to wearing a tie and crunching numbers for corporate stiffs with a smile on my face.”
12
PARKER CAIN
“What doyou mean you don’t like green?”
Joy blew another stream of raspberries and bubbles as she bounced in her chair beside me. This was her new favorite thing. Actually, her favorite thing seemed to be making noise. As much noise as possible. All the noise, all the time. She got that from both of her parents.
I needed to look it up, but there was probably a process of babies finding their voice, or maybe I was making shit up. I didn’t know. What I was sure of was that the little miss on my right was happily batting at her activity toys while randomly shouting “Ahh!” as though she’d been hit with a brilliant idea.
“I think green is a perfect color for this room. I promise it won’t resemble brussels sprouts,” I replied. That got me another round of “Pop Goes the Weasel” from the play center as she unerringly slapped her hand on a big yellow button.
It had been a couple of days since Declan had hired me to paint murals throughout his house. While a lawyer was drawing up a contract that protected both of our asses, I’d treated myself to a run to the art supply store. I’d lost everything in the fire. A lifetime of sketches, paintings, and doodles.There was some work at my parents’ house in Arizona, but they didn’t have anything I’d made after I’d finished college. While I had taken pictures of my favorites, it still hurt to know all that work was gone forever. I was trying not to think about it too much.
There was a different kind of thrill that came from new sketchbooks, brushes, paints, pencils, and all the other bits and bobs. Right now, I had just the basics. I’d get the bulk of what I needed only after the contract was signed and that down payment was in my bank account.
For now, I was making sketches and gathering up ideas. I wouldn’t dare start on a piece until I had Declan’s approval of a smaller version of it. The man might say that I had free rein to create whatever I wanted, but I wasn’t stupid. I wanted to create something he would like.
Over the past two days, I’d wandered the house, making notes about the various rooms. While Declan was back at work, I might have located the kitchen and enjoyed some sneaky chats with Franks and Chef Donovan as I sipped lattes. Both of them were excited that Joy and I were staying. The talented chef wanted to attempt to make some baby food from scratch while Franks was interested in seeing the murals I would create. It might have been suggested that I ask Declan to include the servants’ quarters in the agreement.
After making a lot of notes, I settled on a parlor near the entrance of the house as my starting place for the murals. According to Franks, it was a little-used room since Declan received few guests. It was filled with good sunlight throughout the day. The other bonus was that it contained only a few pieces of furniture and almost no decorations. A great place to work in and I wouldn’t disturb Declan regardless of what hour of the day I was painting.
But as someone rang the doorbell, I realized it might be a good idea to hang some kind of sheet to block the view ofvisitors as they passed through the house. There was nothing more irritating than someone peeking at a piece before I was finished.
Franks rushed through the foyer to answer the door while I kept my focus on the sketch pad in front of me. I’d picked up a set of professional-grade soft oil pastels for my sketches because they allowed me to work quickly and had the kind of brightness that I aimed for in my work. That way, I’d be able to give Declan the clearest glimpse of my vision for the mural.
