Every Night (Brush of Love 1)

“We’ll talk about that once we’re done with you. Though good job in trying to derail me.”

“I try my hardest at everything, dude,” he said, grinning.

“So. The vision. Paint it for me.”

“Paint it for you?” he asked.

“Shut up and go,” I said.

“Well, it would just be a little shop. I don’t really have a passion to take on employees and make it a big thing. Maybe one other person I could take on as a full-time employee or who could rent a booth or something.”

“All right. How big a space are we talkin’?” I asked.

“Maybe nine hundred square feet. Not much. Enough for someone to come in and sit down, a small area for a check out place to the right, some windows at the front of the shop, and then a small hallway blocked off by a door. A highly sterilized environment.”

“Okay. Okay. Have you priced out inventory for your shop? Hypothetically speaking.”

“I have. Been running numbers and stuff. It fluctuates with the market but between the average rent prices for a space in the part of San Diego I’m looking at, I’d have to clear around three thousand a month to keep inventory stocked, keep the lights going, pay rent, and get myself paid.”

“That’s actually not bad. What part of San Diego you lookin’ at?” I asked.

“The Mission Bay area. Somewhere near the water. Everyone can charge higher prices when they’re near the water, and if I found the right space, I might even be able to give them a water view with their tattoo.”

“Sounds like you’ve really thought this out,” I said.

But all Drew did was shrug.

“Your turn, dude. What gives with this art gallery thing?” he asked.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Well, Hailey isn’t your normal homeless charity demographic. No homeless person is benefitting from this other than working on the job site. It’s fucking commercial property, which is a first for you, and you keep calling the client by her first name. You don’t ever do that shit. Ever.”

“Honestly? I’m not quite sure I know why I’m doing it, but I do know I support her gallery.”

“Why’s that?” he asked.

“She has the same community outreach spirit. Wants to dip into the community and use art therapy as a way to revive the area. I can get behind that.”

r /> “This got anything to do with your brother?” he asked.

“I suppose it does a bit,” I said, sighing. “It was John’s love of art that got me interested in it. He was an amazing painter even from a young age. I mean, come on. You did the tattoo on my back.”

“I did all your tattoos, dude. And I’m using all of them in my portfolio.”

“You know, art was John’s thing. I feel like by helping her, I’m sort of helping him, too,” I said.

“I think this project might be cathartic for you. Especially with the shit that’s going down with your parents.”

“Yeah, they’ve been rough but never this rough,” I said.

“Like I said, I think they’re going through some shit, and they’re not handling it like you are.”

“Obviously,” I said. “And look, this project has me drawing again. Not just blueprints and shit but actual pictures. Hell, she let me design the whole outside of her building and her sign, and she loved the hell out of it.”

My eyes panned over to the wall above Drew. There was a massive painting hanging there, one I’d placed there myself when Drew and I shared this one space. When we had enough money to build my own office space, Drew was insistent I keep it there. It was a drawing John did, and it was the one that formed the basis of the tattoo on my back. It was a picture I’d had blown up and detailed. It was the picture of our family’s cabin we used to go to all the time. The picture on the wall looked a bit different than the one on my back, but I still got lost in it. I could close my eyes and remember us running through the woods and swimming in the creek out back.

That place was the greatest symbol of our childhood innocence. It held memories my brother and I made that no one would ever be able to corrupt. It was one of the reasons why I had it blown up, detailed, and framed. I wanted that reminder of innocence to be there always. To be there to remind me when I lost sight of the happiness that innocence made me feel.