Page 4 of Painted in Love

“I’ll text my location.”

Cal was gone without even saying goodbye.

Cal and Lyssa, Daniel Spencer’s younger sister, had a handsome baby boy together—Owen, who was now nine months old. A billionaire in his own right, Cal Danniger still managed the Mavericks’ joint ventures. That now included the projects the Harringtons pulled together with the Maverick Group, especially the new resort Clay’s older brother Dane was building for special needs kids and adults. Cal managed the cash flow and investments.

The Harringtons and the Mavericks had begun doing deals together more than a year ago. They’d all just… clicked. Maybe it was their backgrounds. The Mavericks had been raised in a seedy Chicago neighborhood, dragging themselves up with the help of Susan and Bob Spencer, who acted almost as foster parents to the scrappy group of boys. The Harringtons had lost their parents just about the time Clay started high school. They’d had to drag themselves out from under the mountain of debt their parents had left behind.

Now the two groups, Mavericks and Harringtons, were like family.

It didn’t take more than half an hour for Cal to get there, but already a massive crowd had formed. The info could only have come from Dylan’s social media post. The kid was probably gaining thousands of followers.

He spied Cal’s head above the throng as the man pushed his way through. Reaching him, Cal said, “The whole freaking art world knows about it now.”

Clay clapped him on the back. “I swear, it hasn’t even been a full hour since we found it. I can’t believe how fast the news traveled.”

But Cal wasn’t paying attention, starstruck by the great man’s latest work, the detail, the message. “Wow,” he said in a low, awed voice that resembled Dylan’s when he’d first seen the mural.

Finally, his gaze still on the masterpiece, Cal said, “To think it was only eighteen months ago that Delic told me San Holo was an artist to watch.”

“Delic?” Clay asked.

Cal smiled as if it was a fond memory. “He was our guide on that street art tour Lyssa and I did back in London.”

Clay suddenly understood why the man was smiling. He’d heard the tale from the Mavericks, how the two had known each other for years, Cal twenty years her senior. On that trip to London to see Dane, Cal and Lyssa had fallen for each other. The rest was history. Now the two families were inextricably entwined.

“It was only a couple of months later,” Cal explained, “that San Holo did the London mural on Brick Lane—” A famous spot for street art. “—and suddenly the guy’s art went viral.” He pointed. “After seeing this latest piece, I think he’s going to be almost bigger than Banksy. He’ll certainly be bigger than Lynx.”

Clay had researched all the big street artists, Banksy being the most famous. Lynx, whose real name was Hugo Lewis, had also been an amazing street artist a few years back, although his work over the last five years wasn’t anywhere near as good as his early stuff. Lynx had lost his edge. Unlike San Holo, whose work showed more brilliance with every new piece.

Cal’s canvases and first edition prints would rise in value after this latest piece. San Holo’s work might even start to rival Banksy’s, some of which went for as much as fifty thousand pounds for just a print. There were even Banksy museums in New York City and London. Street art wasn’t just tagging anymore; it had become one of the most lucrative art forms.

Now San Holo’s street art had solidified him as an uber artist.

Cal was saying, “I’ve already tripled my investment. I really appreciate the art.” He turned to Clay. “I’ve got to have this one too.”

Clay searched for clues as to the artist’s real identity. “You think the guy’s British? Since he got his start over there?”

Cal shrugged. “Probably. But his stuff pops up all over the world. He could be from anywhere.”

The whispers rose in volume all around them.

“San Holo has made a new one.”

“There’s no one like him.”

“It’s amazing.”

Still staring at the mural, Clay asked, “Do you know who his agent is?”

Cal snorted. “Got her on speed-dial.”

“I want to commission a mural for the warehouse,” Clay told him.

Cal was already scrolling through his phone contacts. “I’m sending her info.”

A moment later, Clay’s phone pinged. Then Cal elbowed him lightly in the ribs. “But don’t you try buying the canvas of this work out from under me.”

Clay laughed. “I want something that’s specifically for my warehouse. Something no one else has seen.”

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