Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Clay clapped him on the back. “I just appreciate that you made it.”
Troy acknowledged that with a smile. “So what’s the fire burning under your butt?”
Clay took the mic, so to speak. “Dylan put out his first real piece of street art.” His family knew about Clay’s mentorship. “This isn’t like the tagging he does, but something he’s been working on in his studio.”
Gabby put her hand over her mouth before he’d finished, obviously anticipating what was to come.
Clay gave the bad news. “He got trashed. Badly. He was so upset he slashed all but one painting in his studio, and only because we stopped him before he got to it.”
A collective gasp filled the restaurant. They knew the kid, and they felt his pain.
Sitting back, Dane folded his arms. “What can we do to help?”
“Actually, I think he’s taking it fairly well now,” Clay admitted. “Saskia had a talk with him.” At Dane’s raised eyebrow, he explained, “Remember the mural I wanted to have done on the warehouse? I’ve commissioned San Holo. Saskia is his assistant.”
Ransom added, “He’s an amazing street artist, probably rivaled only by Banksy.”
“Saskia?” That could have been a twinkle in Fernsby’s eyes. “You mean the woman with whom you’re having intimate relations?”
Heat rose to Clay’s cheeks as if he’d been caught out in something. He was years past blushing, if he’d ever blushed at all. Until now.
“I can’t believe you just said that, Fernsby.” Gabby shot him a glare.
Fernsby merely arched a brow.
Then all his siblings got in on the act, hooting, hollering, clapping him on the back, filling the near empty restaurant with their clamor.
He raised his palms, sending them all back into their seats. “Saskia Oliver is her name, and she’s actually my problem.” He wagged a finger. “Not for the reasons you’re implying.”
He narrowed his eyes on Fernsby, but the man remained impassive. He didn’t even smile. Though generally short on smiles, since Fernsby had brought Dane and Cammie together, then Ransom and Ava, a smile or two sneaked in more often.
Troy jiggled his finger in his ear as if he hadn’t heard correctly. “I thought Dylan was the problem.”
“Saskia had a talk with Dylan,” Clay explained. “Even before I left, he was deciding what he could keep and what he had to throw away.”
Troy winked. “Then it’s woman troubles?”
He wasn’t going to talk about intimate details in a restaurant, even an uncrowded one. “The problem is what Saskia said to him. More importantly, what she said about Art Space.” Naturally, his family knew all about his video platform for artists.
Gabby looked at him with empathetic eyes. “What did she say?”
“She basically told him he had to suck it up and accept criticism if he wanted to be a great artist.”
“That’s blunt.” Ava’s voice was harsh.
Clay shook his head. “She said it in the nicest way possible. She actually got through to him, too, which is why he cleaned up his studio instead of going off on another tear.”
“But he’s good now,” Troy said. “I don’t understand the problem.”
“I’m getting there. Saskia came upstairs while I was online taking down Dylan’s horrible reviews so he wouldn’t have to look at them ever again.”
They were all silent. So silent Clay could hear T. Rex’s soft snoring as he lay in Fernsby’s lap.
He was forced to continue. “Saskia said my doing that wouldn’t help Dylan grow the thick skin that all artists need. That he has to learn to accept criticism.” He once again felt the guilt over what he’d done to both Dylan and Gareth, pushing them to put their art out there before they’d grown the thick skin Saskia talked about. “You know Gareth hasn’t painted again after he was trashed.”
“We know,” Troy said, his voice gentle with empathy. “That’s why you built your warehouses and started Art Space.”
Clay’s throat closed up, and all he could do was nod.
“Ever since,” Fernsby said, “you’ve been busily purging any negative reviews for your artists.”
Clay didn’t even nod at that. They all knew he had.
“And dear Saskia told you to stop.” Fernsby leaned forward. In fact, everyone did, turning the spotlight on Clay as Fernsby asked, “You want to discuss who is right in this matter.”
Clay pointed a finger. “Bingo.”
Dane was the first to wade in. “I read every bad review about my resorts. Many of them have good points. I’m able to fix things because of them.”
“I’ve dropped baked goods,” Gabby said, “when reviews said they were dry or tasteless or just plain gross.”
Ava leaned her chin on her fist. “I’ve added new services to my eldercare homes because reviews have told me something was lacking.”
They sided with Saskia. And they were probably right. But he still couldn’t get that row of pill bottles in Gareth’s room out of his mind, even if his friend had never actually gone through with it. Nor could he stop seeing Dylan’s ruined artwork.