Savage Little Lies (Court Legacy 2)

The artist in me was intrigued, though, so I did follow the tall football player farther into the house. We didn’t go far, just navigating a couple halls. On the way, Wells was smart and texted Ares the toilet was backed up. He wanted to give Ares an excuse so he didn’t freak out and come looking for us.

Wells’s cover was that he was currently helping me plunge it, and Ares apparently didn’t want to fuck with that. He just barked at him to hurry the hell up, and the tone of the text was just as aggressive as hearing him say it.

“He’s straight trippin’ right now,” Wells said when we arrived at the art studio’s door. There was a lock on it, I guess, a finger pad above the knob.

I pointed at it. “Why’s there a lock?”

Wells waved that off. “Ramses put it on when we were kids. We kept messing around in there.”

“Uh, should we be going in there now, then?” It was one thing to take a peek, but if Ares’s dad minded…

Again, Wells passed that off, and my brow jumped when he keyed in the code. The lock clicked, and he pushed the door open. He waggled his eyebrows. “It’s fine. Wolf would care more than Ramses. His dad’s so busy he like never works in here anymore, and Wolf’s more protective over everything than he is. I think the lock is still on just because Ramses hasn’t gotten around to taking it off. We’re obviously not kids anymore.”

Still, this felt kind of weird. I hesitated. “Why do you know the code?”

“Thatcher.” Wells smirked. “He cracked it for us one day. Wolf wanted to get in there. Says it gives him inspiration or some shit.” He stepped inside. “Come in. I know you’re curious.”

He left me before I could protest, and I groaned because I was curious. I strode inside, and let’s just say the goods around didn’t disappoint.

Especially when Wells clicked on the lights.

Large sculptures covered pretty much all available surface area, all metal and all… gorgeous. Ares’s dad had turned a regular office into a museum, the place a treasure trove of both big and small pieces. For the most part, they were all metal, but there were painted canvases as well.

My jaw dropped. “Holy shit.”

“Right?” Wells propped his back against a wall. He jutted his chin forward. “Check out the tower.”

I pivoted and didn’t need to ask what he meant.

Whoa.

A piece the height of the ceiling faced a large window, a step stool by it. It had all these cool sweeping angles, like a tree in a forest of metal, and I got why he called it the tower. The ceiling in here was at least fourteen feet.

“We all used to stare at this thing all the time and play on it.” Wells came up beside me. I hadn’t even realized I’d ventured over to the structure. Wells chuckled. “Hence the lock on the door. It’s a shame Ramses doesn’t really have time to get in here more. He’s so good at what he does.”

And this came from a non-artist. Even Wells could see how awesome this thing was, which was true. I hovered a hand over it. “You said his dad is busy…”

“Yeah, he is,” he said, but his voice grew quiet. His jaw shifted. “Sometimes life gets in the way, I guess. He’s a businessman like the rest of our fathers, so there’s that.”

He made it sound like that might not be the man’s only obligation, or at least, not the only reason.

I guessed that wasn’t any of my business.

Wells stepped over to the sole desk in the room. He nodded. “Se

ems Wolf might be working in here now, though.”

Sketchbooks lined the desk where a computer would normally be. A couple were open, and I recognized the geometric work.

“Wolf likes to draw this kind of stuff,” he said, picking one up. He glanced around the room. “I guess it’s good this room is getting some use. Ramses told us it was soundproof once, so that’s good for Wolf’s tunes. He can blast them and stuff.”

He did like to listen to music while he worked like me.

Wells’s phone buzzed, and he handed me the sketchbook. I thought that may be Ares being ridiculous, but considering all the eggplant emojis pouring in from a contact by the name of Ms. Deep Throat, I may be wrong in that assumption.

Catching me looking, Wells waggled his eyebrows, then proceeded to text back so many filthy words I had to avert my attention to avoid, well, that shit. I started flipping through Ares’s sketchbook haphazardly, but a photo fell out of it.

I picked it up and was kind of confused by what I was seeing.