by Smoke, Lucy
There were adjustable lamps bolted to the walls on either side of the headboard. Neither of them were turned on. I debated reaching for them, wondering if he would need the light. Didn’t artists need light? The only illumination in the room came from the window. He would have turned the lamps on if he had wanted them on, I decided.
Bellamy waved me over as he bent and lifted the solar screen shade so that the window was fully open. Near the end of his bed beside the window, he had set up his easel and was waiting for me. I grimaced at it. I strode in and waited near the opposite side of his bed. He gestured for me to move closer, and I sighed but did as he requested.
"Okay," he said. "Do you want to sit or stand?"
I shrugged. "It's your painting."
"You're going to have to be still for a long time. I'm not going to get it all done today, but if you're standing, it might be uncomfortable after a few hours."
I shrugged again. "I can take it." My eyes strayed to the rest of the room, but more repeatedly back to that guitar.
Bellamy grinned. "Go ahead and stand over there." He motioned towards the wooden sliding door that matched the gray tones of his bedroom and led into his private bathroom. He stood me in front of it and then turned my body to face the window. "For the lighting," he murmured, as he tugged my wrist forward and adjusted my arms so that one was down, and the other was raised. He paused and took a step back. "How does that feel?" he asked.
"It's fine,” I choked out. He was so close I could smell his cologne. I wasn’t actually sure if it was cologne or not, but it was crisp and spicy. I breathed deeply. I jerked as the scent tugged me back to the memory of Bellamy and I kissing in Marv’s car. I sucked in a breath as my eyes zipped down to his mouth.
"Your arm might get tired," he muttered more to himself than to me. I watched his lips move for a brief moment before shaking my head to clear away the rampant thoughts. It was wrong of me to want a repeat especially when I had kissed Knix as well, and Marv… My face started to heat up.
I smiled, trying to alleviate my embarrassment – though, thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice. "It'll be fine, whatever you do," I assured him, "you're talented." I knew this, because when I had helped move everyone from the condominium complex to the house, I had carried some of the most startling paintings I had ever seen. Reminiscent of dark, abstract art and hand drawn profiles dispersed with pastel coloring, they had been achingly beautiful.
When I had asked where the guys had gotten such art, Marv had pulled me aside and told me. Finally, Bellamy finished adjusting me how he wanted and returned to his easel. He was right, within minutes, my arms grew tired, but noticing the enraptured look on his face, I didn't dare move or say anything about my discomfort.
"So," I began.
"Hmmm?" He bit his lip and stared at the canvas, flicking his eyes back and forth between the easel and where I sat.
“You’re an artist… a mechanic… a recruiter…” I paused at that when he shot me a look beneath his brows. I grinned. “And a musician,” I finished, nodding towards the guitar. “Is there anything you can’t do?”
Bellamy shrugged, not bothering to look over his shoulder at the instrument against the wall. His entire focus was on the canvas. “I have hobbies,” he answered vaguely.
“Lots of hobbies,” I commented. “Do you have a favorite?”
Bellamy’s eyes flickered once again, taking in my position for a brief moment. He didn’t answer for several minutes as he eyed me and the stretch of canvas in front of him. He wasn’t painting yet. Not exactly. Was he… outlining? Sketching? I wanted to see it already.
“I like everything I do,” he said, finally.
“Could I hear you play something sometime?” I asked, curious. Would he be a slow strummer? A fast and hard rock player? I had met kids back in high school who loved listening to rap and rock and roll, and yet, when they played their guitars in the courtyard or by the stairs in the early morning before classes had started, they had done so quietly. Maybe it had been nerves, or a lack of confidence, but their fingers had moved slowly over the strings, plucking and making them dance at a pace that was simple and seductively intimate. I wondered what kind of musician Bellamy was.
“I suppose so,” he replied with a wince. “I haven’t played in a long while. I might not be much good anymore.”
“I doubt that,” I replied. “I bet it’s like riding a bike, you never forget.”
“I suppose,” he repeated.
I sighed.
He paused and then his arm dropped as he leaned around his easel. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so…” Bellamy reached up with his free hand and tugged on a strand of his dark hair. It was getting longer. When I had first met him, it was already around his shoulders, it wasn’t that much longer now, but perhaps that was because he had all of it dragged into a side ponytail. To keep it out of his face while he was painting, I assumed. Maybe it just seemed longer when it was down. “I’ll play for you sometime,” Bellamy said without looking me in the eye. “I’m just not really big on playing much these days.”
“Why?” I didn’t move. I didn’t want to forget my position, but had I been able to, I would have dropped my arms and gone to him. I was curious. Bellamy was such an enigma. I felt like I needed to be close to him. To uncover all that he was. The Artist. The Musician. The Mechanic and car lover. And most certainly, the Iris Boy.
He shrugged, his muscles bunching under his clothes, making the fabric stretch with him. “I’m just out of practice is all.”
I wondered about that, but he looked so uncomfortable, I decided to just let it go. “Okay, then some other time…”
He relaxed almost as soon as the words were out of my mouth and smiled at me that sweet Bellamy smile that reminded me of cotton candy and possessive kisses. I blinked as he stepped out of sight and refocused his attention on the canvas. That kiss… we hadn’t talked about it.
"Can I ask you a question?"
"You just did," he said, a teasing note in his tone. He remained hidden by the canvas, barely peeking around every now and then.
I bit my lip and promptly released it with a sigh. Time to settle on a different subject. Sometime soon, though, we would have to talk about that kiss.
"It's about Grayson,” I said.
He stopped and looked at me. I resisted the urge to tense or show any discomfort. It was an innocent question, something that had been bugging me for a while. When Bellamy didn't say anything, I took that as my cue to ask.
"Why don't you like him?"
Bellamy waited a beat before he set his paintbrush to the side and came around the easel. He didn't approach me, he simply stood in front of me and crossed his arms. "Why do you want to know?" he asked.
I raised my brows and blinked in surprise. I didn't know what I had expected, but it wasn't this defensiveness. "It's just a question," I said. "You and Marv both don't like him, you've made that clear. I just wanted to know why. If there was some bad blood between you or something. It doesn't make sense to me for you two to show such a hatred for him just because of me." I paused. "Is it because of me?"
He closed his eyes and sighed, uncrossing his arms. "Harlow–"
"Is it?" I demanded again before he could say something to avoid the question.
"No," he said, opening his eyes and catching my gaze. "It's not just about you."
"Just?" I repeated. "So, it's partially about me?"
"It's more complicated than that."
"Uncomplicate it then," I insisted.
He grinned ruefully. "That's your go-to, isn't it?"
"Is it working?" I asked, dropping my arms to cross them over my chest.
He shook his head and sighed. "Maybe."
"Then yes," I said, "it's my go-to."
Bellamy’s expression gave me the impression he was trying not to be amused and was failing pretty horribly at it since I could see the twitching at the corners of his mouth. He strode to his bed and I turned to face him with my ar
ms still crossed. He patted the spot next to him and I stepped forward, dropped my arms, and sat.
"When I say it's complicated, Harlow," he started, "I'm not saying that to piss you off. It really is complicated."
"Did you, Marv, and Grayson know each other before you met me?" I asked. He tensed and scratched his neck. I sighed. "It's not a hard question." I tried to make him meet my eyes. "It's a 'yes' or 'no' question."
"I didn't exactly know him," Bellamy said through clenched teeth. "But we were acquainted. He was more acquainted with Marv and Knix."
"Knix?" I asked, surprised. “Really?” I frowned. “I mean, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised if Marv and Grayson knew each other. Marv really doesn’t like him. But, Knix? They knew each other?”
Bellamy tilted his head at me and sighed, his eyes closing and then reopening after a moment. "Who do you think paid to have this place built?" He nodded towards our surroundings, meaning the house.
"Marv?" I asked. I hadn’t even realized that I had just assumed…but now, I wasn't so sure.
Bellamy shook his head. "It's not a secret that Marv has money, you've seen his parents."
"I met his mom today," I admitted. His eyes widened, and I nodded. "Yeah, he took me over to meet her and we had tea–well, Marv and I had tea. She had champagne."
Bellamy chuckled. "That's Caitlyn for you."
"So... Grayson?" I prodded.
Bellamy closed his eyes and stood. "I think it's something you should ask Knix or Marv. It's not really my story to tell." He held his hand out and I frowned at him as I took it. He chucked me under my chin. "Don't look so serious or your face will stick that way," he warned. "Do you need help getting back in the position?"
I shook my head and retook my spot in front of the sliding door. I lifted my face and turned my body towards the window. As it was, despite my stance, Bellamy had to angle my face so that I was looking at him. It allowed me to watch the look of concentration that overtook his face as he dipped his brush into his paints and stroked it across the canvas.
He had an assortment of brushes each tipped with their own color; some so dark I couldn't tell their color, but that didn't seem to matter to him. He would drop them into their various holders and then pick another to continue his work. I don't know how long I stood there, but when the sun eventually began to set Knix called for dinner.
Bellamy set his brushes aside and stepped back for a moment. I hesitated, wondering whether I should drop my arm, unsure if he was done or not.
"We'll have to pick this up again another time anyway," he said. "The light's going anyway."
I sighed, sagging forward and groaning as my muscles screamed. He grimaced and rushed around the easel. "I'm fine," I assured him before he could ask.
He frowned. "Are you sure?"
I rolled my shoulders back and stretched my legs. "I'm sure."
As I moved around the bed, I tried to take a peek at the painting, but Bellamy moved it to face the corner I had just vacated.
"You can see it when it's done," he said quietly.
I smiled and nodded, leaving the room and heading downstairs. In the kitchen, everyone was gathered around the table like a giant family. Marv, however, had a file in his hand. He talked animatedly to Knix who nodded his head as he listened and dished up what looked to be chicken alfredo and asparagus. He passed a plate to Texas who passed it to Bellamy and then to me. Soon, everyone had their plates, but Marv ignored his in favor of his newest project.
"It just doesn't make any sense," he said. "I knew a few of these girls, Knix. They wouldn't have acted like this."
"People change, Marv," Knix said patiently. "Perhaps they got into some bad things since you knew them. We haven't formally been invited to do anything. I'm not sure if you'll be able to actually go through with an investigation. We have to think about Alex."
"Alex?" I piped up. "My old boss?"
Knix tensed, but nodded before turning to Marv. "We'll continue this discussion later." I frowned, but then Knix turned a smile my way. "How was your day?" he asked.
"It was fine," I replied.
Marv turned his head towards me just as Knix frowned at my clothes. "Weren't you wearing a dress this morning?"
Bellamy, Marv, and Texas laughed, and I glared at each and every one of them. "I was," I snapped, "but someone," I looked pointedly at Bellamy, "decided to throw me in the pool."
Bellamy opened his mouth to defend himself but before he could get a word in, Marv spoke up. "She and Texas painted my BMW pink," he said.
"Bellamy helped!" I yelled back.
"And then left him to deal with the fallout?" Marv asked, narrowing his eyes.
Bellamy turned to do the same at me.
I gaped at them before gesturing to Texas, "What about him?! He did too!"
"We expect it from him!" Marv shook his head in exaggerated disbelief.
I sputtered. "We–he–I'm–urgh!" I stabbed a piece of asparagus and shoved it in my mouth, chewing hard. Knix only looked on with amusement.
I settled back and decided to ask him about Grayson later.
Chapter 4
Long after dinner was over, when Marv and Knix had adjourned to the study, Bellamy had gone up to bed, and Texas had disappeared to his room to do something with his computers, I waited in the hallway for Marv and Knix to finish their meeting. When I couldn't stand waiting in the hallway like a creeper one moment longer, I headed towards the living room and collapsed onto the sofa, sinking low into the cushions. Cleo leaped up into my lap and I absently petted her, feeling along the ridges of her spine and allowing her purrs to lull me. Abruptly, I heard the study room door open, and I scrambled up from my position. Cleo meowed at me and darted away. Marv nodded as he left Knix's study and headed towards his room, and when he looked up and spotted me, he seemed surprised.
"What are you still doing up?" he asked, taking in my polka dot pajama bottoms and loose t-shirt. "Don't you have training tomorrow?"
I nodded. "Yeah, but I needed to talk to Knix before I went to bed."
"Oh," he frowned. "Sorry, I didn't mean to make you wait."
I shrugged. "It's fine. I can talk to him now."
"You mind if I come see you after you're done?" he asked.
I smiled as I passed him, heading towards the open study door. "You know you're welcome anytime."
He winked at me as he turned and kept walking. I knocked on Knix's open study door and stepped in when he looked up from his massive desk. He smiled and leaned back. "Hey, come on in."
"Do you mind if I close the door?" I asked, hesitating in the doorway.
"Go ahead." When the door clicked shut, he stood up and circled the desk and leaned against the edge. "What's up, Little Bit?"
"What are you working on?" I asked at the same time. We paused, and both laughed as he turned towards the blueprints on his desk.
"A very special client is having a house custom built." I paused in front of the desk and looked over the graphed paper.
"What's that?" I asked, pointing to an odd angled line in the corner of one of the rooms.
He smirked and touched the side of his nose with a finger. "You've got a good eye," he said. "This client is a little...eccentric. He loves mystery books and movies. He's also wealthier than Midas. It's a secret staircase."
My eyes bulged. "A secret staircase?" I looked back at the blueprints.
Knix nodded. "Yup. It doesn't go anywhere special. At least, not that one. Just to the basement."
"Are you putting in other ones?" I asked.
He nodded. "So close to the ocean," he started. "We don't usually build basements. But this one is special. It's going to be reinforced. Naturally, it'll be constructed out of a thick concrete slab. We have to make sure that the water beneath the soil won't decay the concrete. The client knows that it'll be likely that his basement will collapse after a few decades – if he's lucky."
"Are you getting paid a lot for this?" I couldn’t stop myself from asking.
>
He laughed. "He's crazy to want a basement so close to the ocean. No one else is willing to even consider it. He'll be signing an ironclad agreement that states that he can't sue the company if it does, in fact, collapse and that he understands the risks. He still wants it, though, and we're the only ones that even gave him the time of day, so, yes, this will be a very profitable job."
"Building secret passages and staircases sounds fun," I said.
He nodded. "Yes, it can be."
"Will anyone else be able to tell if there are secret passages?" I couldn't imagine that a secret would be very fun if everyone knew by looking at a wall that there was a door in the paneling or if Knix's client told all of his friends.
"Well, it won't be easy. People are less observant than you think," he said.
I looked at him. "How could I do it?"
"Well," he started, "let's say there's a secret room between rooms. You can't enter it from the hallway, only from the rooms on either side. If one wall faces a room, one faces another room, and one faces the hallway, where does that leave the fourth wall?"
"Facing the outside?" I guessed.
He nodded. "Yes, now let's say that on the outside, there's a window into each bedroom, but not in the secret room. If the two normal rooms were side by side, then their windows would be in very specific places. Instead, if you were to walk outside and look at them, you'd see a wider space between than when you're inside, in the rooms."
As I thought about it, I realized he was right. It was easy to think about when he put it like that. I smiled. This kind of thing was just like my favorite mystery books. I grinned at him and he grinned back before sliding the blueprints away.
"Now, I heard you tell Marv you wanted to talk to me about something, Little Bit," he gestured for me to take a seat in front of him. "What's up?"
I sighed and sat down in front of him in one of his two plush chairs. Knix remained propped against his desk. "I talked to Bellamy earlier and um..."