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)
In the face of this kid’s hero worship, Clay couldn’t help committing himself. “You know what, Dylan? I’ll make this happen for you.” Even if he had to commission a massive piece of San Holo’s artwork, he would get it done.
The malodorous alley no longer mattered. There was only the bright light of zeal in Dylan’s eyes. “It’s impossible,” he said on a gasp. “It can’t be done.”
Clay shook his head. “I can do it. And I never break a promise.”
Dylan dug his fingers into Clay’s arm. “If you think you can…” His eyes were like fire. “OMG, man.” His voice trembled. “If I could meet him, life could never ever get better than that.”
“I’ll make it happen,” Clay vowed to both Dylan and himself.
Then Dylan was bouncing through the alley like he was at a rave. “I’m so freaking inspired. I have to go paint now.”
Not wanting to tamp down his enthusiasm, Clay still had to say, “But you’ve got school.”
Excitement rolled off Dylan in waves. “Would you call in for me? Just this once? I’ll never ask again, I promise.”
Both Clay and Gideon had been given the privilege of dealing with the school on his behalf, rather than his foster parents. Dylan had never abused that. But Clay knew that if he didn’t let Dylan dive into it now, the kid might lose the inspiration that had struck him as he stood before San Holo’s latest masterpiece.
“All right,” he agreed. “This one time.”
“Thank you.” Then Dylan took off running, punching his fist in the air. The warehouse was only a couple of blocks away.
Clay made the call, standing just outside the alley. Once he was done, he strolled back in, gazing up at the great man’s work. He still couldn’t believe this had been accomplished overnight.
He’d considered commissioning a mural for the exterior of the warehouse. Just as he’d commissioned a lobby sculpture from Charlie Ballard. She might be Sebastian Montgomery’s fiancée and part of the Maverick clan, but she was an amazing metal artist, and the art she’d created was magnificent. Now he’d promised Dylan he’d find a way for the kid to meet the great San Holo. The two things dovetailed perfectly. He wanted a mural that spoke of his love for art, of his respect for artists, and his gut told him that San Holo was the right artist for it.
While he commissioned the piece, he’d find out the artist’s true identity and fulfill his promise to Dylan.
Alone in the alley once more, he pulled out his phone. Since Cal Danniger had shown him those first edition prints, Clay knew what it would mean to Danniger to see this new work.
Cal answered, saying, “What’s up, dude?”
With no preliminaries, Clay laid it on him. “You need to get down here right now. We’ve found a new San Holo. And it’s freaking incredible.”
Cal didn’t even question him. “Where are you?”
“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.”