Chapter 4
“Break time’s over.” Sawyer snatched Hunter’s phone out of his hand.
Hunter shot up from the chair at one of the wobbly tables in the warehouse break room and grabbed for his phone. “I’ve got
three minutes left. Who put you in charge of the clock?”
“Me, myself, and I.” Sawyer, who was at least four inches shorter than Hunter but twice as fast, ducked under his arm and
dashed to the other side of the empty room. “What do we have here?” he said, looking at the screen.
“Give it back, Campbell,” he warned.
“In a second. I want to see what—or who —has been consuming your life for the past week.” He frowned as he brushed the screen with his finger. Then he looked up.
“Art videos?”
Hunter jerked the phone out of his hands. “Yeah. What did you think it was?”
“Nothing that innocent.” Sawyer shoved a nearby chair under a table with his hip. “Since when have you been interested in
art?”
“That’s none of your business.” He put his phone in his pocket and clocked back in to work. “Next time you pull a stunt like
that, you’ll regret it.”
Sawyer held up his hands, palms out. “Okay, okay. It was just a joke. Don’t get so touchy.”
They walked out of the break room. Hunter didn’t think he was being touchy at all for getting annoyed about Sawyer looking at his phone, even as a joke. Before he was so unceremoniously interrupted, he’d watched Britt for over five minutes as she departed from her usual drawing and painting and sculpted a clay figurine.
“It helps to visualize the object in three dimensions, adding more realism to the project. If realism is your goal.” She shrugged, giving the camera a shy smile. “For you impressionists out there, just have fun with the clay.”
Until he’d started watching her channel, he hadn’t given any thought to all the ways there were to create art.
“Later, man,” Sawyer said, clapping him on the back. “And hey, sorry about the phone. I’ll keep your art obsession between
you and me.”
“It’s not an obsession,” he said, but Sawyer was already heading for the back of the warehouse.
Hunter shook his head and walked over to the forklift. While he’d spent a lot of time over the past two weeks watching Britt’s
channel, he wouldn’t call himself obsessed. She had hundreds of videos and tons of content. He was learning a lot too. Besides,
it was a much better way to pass the time than scrolling through thirty-second videos of birds dancing and people doing stupid
stuff.
Slipping on his earphones, he cranked up the latest top twenty hip-hop list and focused on his job. Four hours until quitting
time. Over the past two weeks he hadn’t bothered asking Sawyer if he wanted to get something to eat or to play a video game
after work. Sawyer’s date with Marissa had been a bust, and now he was seeing a new girl he’d met in the chip and dip aisle
at the corner convenience mart.
Without his roommate as a distraction, he could concentrate on Britt’s videos.
After Hunter clocked out, he jumped on his bike, headed back to the apartment, and fixed two grilled cheese sandwiches—extra cheesy. Popping the top on a can of Coke, he sat at the small table in the kitchen and opened his laptop. He wasn’t satisfied only watching her videos on his phone anymore.
Thirty minutes later he’d polished off his dinner, drained the Coke, and finished the sculpting video. He was about to click
on another one, but stopped when he saw a new notification. He grinned and immediately clicked on it.
Hi Hunter,
Are you sure you want me to tell you all about anime and manga? I could write a book!
He settled in and read Britt’s detailed explanation about the popular Japanese art and literature form. Since he’d first given
into his impulse and dashed off a message to her a little more than a week ago, they had “talked” every day, mostly about
art, of course. He was full of questions, especially after she’d told him he just needed to find the right thing, whatever
that was. Not that he imagined art would be his thing, or even a hobby. But he did enjoy her videos... and he was starting
to enjoy her. She wrote like she talked in her videos—concise, down to earth, easy to understand. Even reading her essay on
anime and manga was interesting.
I hope I didn’t give you too much information. I tend to go a little overboard when I’m passionate about something.
Hunter blinked, then smiled. What else is she passionate about?
He shook his head, stunned at the thought, reminding himself that he was only interested in her content, not her—even though she was cute, smart, and extremely talented.
I just uploaded my ten-minute art challenge. Why don’t you give it a try? You can send it to me when you’re finished. If you
want, that is. You don’t have to. B.
His phone buzzed and he tilted it up to look at the screen. Why was Payne calling him at 11:45 on a Thursday night? “Hey,”
he answered. “Everything okay?”
“Yes. I’m working late at the office and time got away from me. I meant to call you earlier today.”
Hunter put the phone on speaker, then stood and went to get another Coke out of the fridge, only to change his mind and grab
a clean glass out of the dishwasher. “What’s the special occasion?”
“Father’s sixtieth birthday,” Payne said in his usual matter-of-fact tone. Either his brother didn’t get Hunter’s sarcasm,
or he was letting it pass without comment.
Hunter turned on the tap. “That’s next month, right?”
“Yes. The family is throwing him a party.”
Uh-oh. He filled the glass with water and sat back down. When the Pickett family threw a party, they threw a party. The kind that ended up in the society section of the Dallas Morning News —if they even had a society section anymore. He hadn’t read a newspaper in ages.
“You’re invited,” Payne said.
“How kind of you to allow me to come to my father’s own party.” He couldn’t hold back his snide tone.
“You’re reaping what you sowed, Hunter.”
He was painfully aware of that. After his last run-in with the law, his parents had cut off all contact, and he didn’t blame them for doing so. “Let me guess, you drew the short straw and were tasked with not only inviting me, but telling me to be on my best behavior.”
“And to warn you if you do anything to upset Mother, embarrass Father, or ruin this party, Kirk and I will never allow you to attend another family event. We’re only allowing it this time because Mother insisted Father would want you there.”
That was a surprise, considering their current no-contact status with him. Well, at least one of his family members still
cared. Or they were all trying to keep up appearances. Each time he’d crashed and burned, his parents were there to clean
up his mess and keep it out of the papers and away from all media. Not for his sake, but their own. Until that last time... “When is it?”
“June thirtieth.”
“Well, look at that, I happen to be free.” He was always free.
“I’ll text you the details when they become available,” Payne said. “Do you have a tuxedo?”
“No. The Warehouse frowns upon them.”
“Huh?”
Hunter grinned a little. “I’ll rent one.”
“Make sure you do. We all want this party to be perfect.”
Like Payne was. And Kirk. And his parents. But not me. “Don’t worry. I won’t mess this up for Father.”
“Make sure you don’t.”
And then there was silence. He stared at the blank screen and leaned back in his chair. One big happy family. They had been, at one time. Before he was a teenager and had gone off the rails. But even when he was a kid, he knew he didn’t measure up to his older brothers and his parents’ expectations of him. And maybe it was a self-fulfilling prophecy, or rebellion, or just his nature at the time, but between the ages of thirteen and twenty-eight, he’d reinforced every single doubt they had about him.
A chime rang from his computer. He glanced at it and saw there was another message notification from Britt. He clicked on
it.
I don’t want to pressure you about the challenge. I probably shouldn’t have said anything about it. Don’t feel like you have
to do it if you don’t want to. B.
Quickly, he tapped out his response.
No pressure at all. In fact, I think
He paused, mulling over his decision.
it’s a great idea. I’ll send it to you when I’m done. H.
He hit Send. Now he was committed. And maybe this was what he needed to try his hand at something new—a challenge. He clicked
on the video and made a mental note of the supplies he would need to pick up tomorrow before work: paper and some crayon-looking
things called pastels. There was an art store in Plano—K&B Art Supplies—where he could stop by and get what he needed. They
had sponsored a few of her videos.
At the end of the video, she was on camera again. “If you’re a beginner artist, this is the perfect project to practice your
skills. And you don’t have to use pastels. You can use colored pencils, charcoal, even markers if you want to. The point is
to challenge yourself. I sure did with this seashell.”
Her seashell was perfect, and as familiar as he was with her artistic talent, he knew she was being humble. Another point in her favor.
She signed off with her usual shy little wave. And as usual, he smiled back. He couldn’t help it—she was too cute when she
did that. He was about to shut down the laptop, then froze. K&B Art Supplies. In Plano.
Did she live in the Dallas area? Why else would a Plano art shop sponsor her videos? Then again, any art store in the country
would, particularly the ones who had online shopping and shipped their supplies. He worked in a shipping company warehouse,
but he rarely paid attention to the boxes he moved around and organized, other than their shapes and quantities, so he couldn’t
say if he saw K&B Art Supplies’ name on any of the packages.
Hunter closed the laptop and headed for the shower. There were over six million people living in the Dallas-Fort Worth area.
Even if she did live here, the chances of running into her were almost none, other than hanging out at K&Bs to see if she
showed up. She might not even buy anything from there, although she did use and recommend supplies from her sponsors. K&B
was only one of them.
Shaking his head, he turned on the water and stood under the spray. It didn’t matter if she lived close by. He never intended
to try to meet her. He was just killing time, watching videos.
Then again, he never intended to contact her either. But I did.
He finished his shower and slipped on a T-shirt and boxers, then played a few video games on the TV in the living room. But
his curiosity about where Britt lived was piqued. There was a simple way to find out . I could just ask her.
“No.” He switched to another mind-numbing game. From his very first message, he took great pains not to come across as weird, creepy, or stalkerish. And now that he’d made the decision to do the ten-minute challenge, he didn’t want to do anything to give her cause to shut him out. All the hours spent learning from her would go down the tubes.
Funny how up until now, he’d only considered watching her channel as a time waster. For sure he was no artist, but he could
have some fun and do something more productive than play video games.
His leg jounced as he engrossed himself in the game. But no matter how much he tried to get into it, he couldn’t stop looking
at his closed laptop.
***
Britt shut off her computer and went downstairs. She’d spent more time working tonight than she’d intended to, but she was
eager to upload her ten-minute challenge video. She thought it was one of her best ones, and she planned to do at least one
challenge every three months, if not more often. Even if she didn’t get an enthusiastic response from her viewers, she had
enjoyed the project.
She went downstairs to fix a snack of celery and carrot sticks with hummus and headed for her bedroom. When she passed the
living room, she saw her mother conked out in the recliner again. School ended last week but there was still one more day
of meetings and professional development before she wrapped up the year.
Britt paused, wondering if she should wake her, then decided not to. Anytime Mom fell asleep in the chair, she always got
up and went to bed soon after. There was no reason to disturb her.
Once Britt was in her room, she settled into a vintage chair from the seventies, complete with brown and yellow plaid upholstery. She’d fallen in love with it years ago when she and Savannah had gone to a thrift store looking for an old dress for a costume party Savannah was attending. It took some elbow grease to clean it up, including shampooing the fabric and polishing the wooden arms. When she finished, it looked like an odd mix of dated and brand new. It was comfy, it was hers, and she loved it.
She set her food and a glass of water on the upside-down apple crate she used as an end table and picked up her well-loved
copy of Prince Caspian . A few pages in, the celery and almost all of the carrots and hummus were gone, but she couldn’t focus. Her mind wasn’t on
her favorite book in the Narnia series. It was on Hunter.
Right after she’d sent her looooong message about anime and manga, she cringed. Surely he hadn’t expected her almost textbook
explanation. Then she’d gone and invited him to do the challenge and, immediately, doubts set in. She didn’t want him to feel
obligated. But then he responded so quickly, saying that it was not only totally fine, but he was going to do the challenge.
A tiny thrill went through her when she read that.
There was no use trying to read when she was so distracted. She shut the book and munched on a carrot as she used her phone
to check on her channel. She could barely admit to herself that she was hoping for another message from Hunter tonight. Why,
she didn’t know, only that she liked talking to him about art. From his questions, she guessed he was a beginner and possibly
a complete novice. He also passed her personal private message test—he was courteous, stayed on topic, and kept all communication
appropriate.
For some reason, she found herself wishing she knew a little more about him. Like what state or country he was from. What he did for a living. His age even. Not that age mattered during professional correspondence.
But she couldn’t help but want their correspondence to be a little more personal.
Mom poked her head inside the doorway. “Still up?”
Nodding, Britt set her phone in her lap. “I worked late tonight, so I’m not quite ready for sleep yet.”
“That’s definitely not my problem.” She yawned. “Everything going okay? I feel like we haven’t talked much lately.”
That was true, and right now Britt was fine with that. A part of her felt extremely guilty for seeing her dad on the sly.
But now wasn’t the time to bring him up to Mom. She was in the middle of ending another school year, and her focus should
be on that. There would be time in the future to tell her about him. “Everything’s fine. Good actually. I told Savannah I’d
be her maid of honor.”
Mom’s eyes grew wide. “Really? Britt, that’s wonderful! I’m sure she’s happy about that.”
“She is.” Britt smiled.
“You’re doing the right thing, honey. I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks.” But her smile dimmed a little. First Dad, and now Mom, expressed their pride in her. And she’d be happy about that
if she were actually doing something impressive instead of what any normal best friend would do for the bride-to-be.
“Why don’t we do something fun this weekend? We could go to Grimaldi’s, maybe do a little shopping after?”
“Sure.”
Mom yawned. “All right. One more day. I can do this.” She gave Britt two thumbs up. “Good night. See you tomorrow.”
“Night, Mom. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
Britt yawned, surprising herself. Guess she was tired after all. One more check of her channel and she’d call it a night.
She picked up her phone, went back to YouTube... and saw three new notifications. Quickly she looked through the first
two that alerted her to new comments on several of her videos. Then she clicked on the third one.
Hi Britt. One more thing, and I hope I’m not bugging or bothering you. I noticed one of your sponsors is K&B Art Supplies.
I was thinking about buying my supplies from there. Do you have any recommendations?
While it was great he wanted to patronize a sponsor, she wondered why he chose them. She had several art companies sponsoring
her videos, and she appreciated every one of them. But K&B was special. It was where Mom had bought Britt’s first paint for
her set when she was a child, and she was good friends with Maude and Xavier—X, as he preferred to be called—the eccentric,
long-term owners of the store. She shopped there at least once a week, often more. It was one of the few places where she
didn’t feel anxious.
Did he live in Plano? No, that would be too much of a coincidence. Maude and X had a thriving online business. That made them
a perfect place for him to order his supplies.
She messaged him back with a list and their website.
Thanks for purchasing from them. I’ve been going there for a long time. They’re my favorite art store. B.
Nibbling on the last carrot, she waited to see if he would reply right away. Ten minutes later, he hadn’t, and she started to log off—
Thanks, Britt. Have a good night.
You too, Hunter.
She smiled and turned off her phone.