CHAPTER THREE
Pulling the brim of the baseball cap lower to shield his face, Harris placed his order for an iced coffee, but an item on the menu board caught his attention.
It was a caramel latte with whipped cream and a drizzle on top—not exactly the Irish coffee they all had at Ethan’s the other day, but it reminded him of it.
On a whim, he decided to change his order and picked up an extra one for Wolf, since he remembered how much his friend liked the specialty coffee.
Luckily, the girl at the window didn’t recognize him, so he was in and out of the drive-through coffee place in a matter of minutes, and he headed to Wolf’s house.
The drive through the hills was quiet and so different from Harris’ Malibu Beach home where the wind carried the sound of surf and distant voices.
Harris entered the code into the security gate, pulled up the long drive, and sent Wolf a text.
HARRIS: I’m outside. Brought you a drink. Got a few mins to hang?
As he waited for a reply, he took in the scenery and mountains in the distance. It was beautiful—not as beautiful as the ocean—but pretty damn spectacular.
Harris’ phone dinged.
WOLF: Be right there.
It took longer than expected for Wolf to open the front door, and Harris was beginning to think showing up unannounced wasn’t such a great idea.
He didn’t know why he never thought to send Wolf a text before driving over.
Maybe Wolf was busy or didn’t want company.
But then the door swung open, and Wolf stood there with a big goofy grin on his handsome face.
“What brings you around? Come in.” Wolf stepped aside to let Harris enter.
That’s when he noticed a red substance under Wolf’s fingernails and coloring his nail beds.
And was that black paint on his jawline?
“I brought you a caramel latte.” Harris raised the cardboard tray that contained the two drinks.
Most of the whipped cream had melted, but the caramel drizzle still rested on top.
Wolf’s eyes opened a little wider. “Thanks. I could use a pick-me-up.” He pulled the cup from the tray, stuck the straw in it and took a long sip.
Harris watched Wolf’s lips pucker as he sucked on the straw and the way his throat bobbed as he drank. Then Wolf rolled his beautiful green eyes up to the ceiling and let out a satisfied breath. “That’s good.”
Harris noticed a streak of pink on Harris’ neck when he leaned his head back. “What are you doing? Painting?”
Wolf nodded, sheepishly. “Yeah. You know I paint.”
Wolf designed most of the band’s album and CD covers, did the artwork for a mobile salon trailer for Tyler last year, and even created logos for other bands once in a while. He doodled all the time, but Harris never realized Wolf painted on canvas, so this new bit of information surprised him.
“What do you paint?” Harris asked. “Things like murals and portraits?”
“Sometimes. I paint a lot of things. Whatever strikes me at the moment.”
“Can I see what you’re painting right now?” He didn’t realize he put Wolf on the spot until he saw the look on the poor guy’s face and Wolf didn’t answer. After a moment, Wolf took a long sip on the straw of his drink, probably trying to figure out a way to tell Harris that his work was private.
“That’s OK,” Harris replied, to save Wolf the awkwardness of telling him no.
“That’s your business. I get it. You don’t have to show me.
I was just interested. I know you’re a great artist. I was curious to see some of your paintings.
I’ve seen drawings and logos and stuff like that.
But I’ve never seen any of your paintings.
” Harris couldn’t stop rambling. “I won’t bother you if you want to get back to it.
I just thought of the drinks we had at Ethan’s the other day when I was ordering coffee and thought you’d like one.
I thought maybe we could hang for a bit or grab something to eat or go for a hike or whatever.
But we can do it some other time.” Oh my God.
Shut the fuck up already! Harris had no control over himself and felt his cheeks burning.
Wolf stood there with an amused smile on his face as Harris went on and on. When he finally stopped talking, Wolf laughed so hard the cup in his hand shook. “How many of these things did you drink? And why are you still standing in the doorway? Come in.”
“You sure? I don’t want to interrupt you if you’re in the middle of a painting.”
“Come in,” Wolf repeated.
Curious about the artwork, Harris scanned the first floor as he walked into the house, but he didn’t see anything. “Where do you paint?”
“In my art studio. Upstairs.”
“You have a studio?” Harris expected to find an easel on the deck or in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows. He didn’t expect Wolf to have a serious art studio.
“Of course I have a studio. I got six bedrooms in this place. I also have a music room, a meditation room, a junk room, and a guest bedroom. But I never have any guests.”
“What’s a meditation room?”
“I don’t fucking know. I met this guy who was an interior decorator, and he did the room for me.
I don’t know why I agreed to it.” Wolf chuckled with a glint in his eyes.
“I think we both know why I agreed to it. I like the room, though. I go in there sometimes just to chill. It’s relaxing. Wanna see it?”
“Yeah. I’d love to see your art studio too.”
Wolf shook his head. “I don’t show anyone my studio.
I don’t mind showing some stuff, like this.
” He waved his hand toward an amazing painting of the mountains that hung on the far wall of the living room.
“And the landscapes of Hollywood Boulevard that are in Ethan’s den.
But I don’t let anyone see what I paint in my studio. ”
“Why not?”
Wolf didn’t offer an explanation and only shrugged in reply.
Harris imagined they contained dark, macabre images that were the subject of Wolf’s nightmares and understood why the guy didn’t want anyone to see them.
He looked closer at the mountain landscape that hung on the wall.
There was a hawk in one of the trees. It was small, but its features were clear and precise.
The setting sun cast a glow on the mountains and terrain that was so lifelike, Harris had to compare it to the sun shining in the sky outside the window.
“This is amazing, Wolf. I love it.” He always knew Wolf was talented, but he didn’t know the guy had such vision and the ability to create something so lifelike with depth and emotion.
Harris made a mental note to ask to see the paintings of Hollywood Boulevard in Ethan’s den, because he was blown away by just this one painting.
“It’s all right.” Wolf waved his hand for Harris to follow him. “I’ll show you the meditation room.”
Harris followed Wolf up the staircase and realized he’d very rarely been on the second floor. There was a long hallway with a lot of doors, all closed. There was more artwork on the walls, and he assumed that Wolf painted at least some of them but didn’t want to pry.
“Over here,” Wolf called when Harris stopped to admire a painting.
He caught up to Wolf, ready to enter the room, but Wolf blocked his path with his arm. “No phones.” Wolf deposited his phone in a small basket on the wall and motioned for Harris to do the same.
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah. It’ll kill the vibe. It’s an electronics-free zone.” Wolf motioned to the basket again.
“OK.” After Harris dropped his phone in the basket, he followed Wolf into the room.
It was painted pale yellow and had light wood flooring.
Several area rugs were scattered around the room offering various seating arrangements.
There were large free-form cushions, reminiscent of bean bag chairs from the 70s, and large pillows to sit on.
A pair of recliners sat along one wall with twinkle lights draped from floor to ceiling.
There were a few small tables with candles and diffusers, and a waterfall fountain took up an entire corner.
Lamps with scarves over them spread soft light throughout, so it looked like dusk in the room.
Harris was in awe, trying to take it all in.
“Have a seat.” Wolf plopped down in a huge fluffy thing that looked like a giant marshmallow.
Harris sat in a matching one next to him and felt as if the thing swallowed him whole.
Wolf chuckled at the surprised look on Harris’ face. “Don’t fight it. Just relax. It’s comfy.”
Once Harris stopped struggling to sit up, it was very comfortable, and he let the chair envelop him.
Wolf picked up a remote, clicked a few buttons, and soft music filtered through the room. One of the diffusers lit up with a soft light, and a pleasant scent filled the air.
“What’s that?” Harris asked.
“I don’t know, but it smells good. It’s supposed to help clear your head. I like it in here. It’s like a safe room.”
Harris wondered if Wolf came into this room to find comfort when he was home alone and had a nightmare. He hoped so, because the room reverberated with serenity. He looked over at Wolf, who was sitting with his head back staring at the ceiling and his hands folded on his stomach.
Wolf slowly turned his head toward Harris. “Want to order takeout?”
“What about your painting?”
“It can wait. I’d rather hang out with you. It’s nice to have company sometimes, and we don’t usually hang out just the two of us. Why not?”
Harris perked up at the question. It was the perfect opening and a chance to move things in the right direction. “I don’t know. We’ll have to change that.”
***
Harris purposely waited two days before calling Wolf because he didn’t want to seem overly anxious. He didn’t know why he was nervous, but his pulse began to accelerate as he waited for Wolf to answer the phone.
“Hey,” Wolf said, in greeting. “I was just thinking about you.”
“You were?” Harris stood up and moved to the railing on his deck.
“Yeah. I’m bored.”