Page 48 of Hooked on Trouble

On the wall opposite me an insane portrait fills the space. Josh’s name is signed on the bottom, and my jaw nearly hits floor. It’s an emotional piece. A boy with venom in his eyes and fisted hands has his mouth wide, the barrel of a gun pointing out from his lips as if he’d swallowed it. The muzzle is aimed at the man he’s confronting, the message loud and clear:

Words are as powerful as bullets.

A large sketchbook is on the coffee table, and I snatch it up, greedy for more. The first is a detailed hand, the center of the palm transformed into a gory mouth with jagged teeth.

A-freaking-mazing.

Next is an octopus with two heads and eyeballs hanging from its tentacles.

Perfectly grotesque.

I gawk at a woman with a mask sewn over her mouth, horns sprouting from her head.

Hells yeah.

“They aren’t that good.” Josh steps into the room, his wide shoulders hunched forward.

“You’re right. They aren’t good. They’re unbelievable.”

He straightens and beams at me. “Yeah?”

“Your shading is sick, the detail you capture is spot on, and you have the creep factor nailed. How long have you been drawing?”

Moments like this one, right here, were the times I loved teaching art. Seeing raw talent in kids, fostering it, and watching them improve. Then I’d have to holler at the class to focus and clean up and deal with the sarcastic dipshits who didn’t want to be there, my last nerve stretched so far it would snap. Teaching in a classroom wasn’t my calling.

According to Nico, photography is.

My chest warms at the thought, and Josh falls onto the couch beside me. He runs a hand through his damp hair. “Don’t know. As long as I can remember, I guess.”

I flip a few more pages and land on one of a sea creature. Barnacles surround its mouth, spikes curve along its spine. I almost snap a picture and send it to my friend, Talia, in Toronto. She and her special effects friends would eat it up. “Have you ever thought about art school?”

“Naw. Not sure I could handle drawing a fruit basket. I toyed with the idea of tattooing, but sitting still for hours would drive me nuts. I’m thinking of getting a job at a gaming store in town, maybe work my way to manager.”

I visited Talia at her studio once. She wore yellow contacts that day and had applied a small scar to her chin, messing with her appearance as she often did. Everyone moved around the space, sculpting, molding, painting props and prosthetics, rock tunes pumping from the speakers as their creations came to life.

“What about makeup?” I ask.

He snorts. “As much as I’d like to put lipstick on a hot chick, probably not my style.”

“No, like special effects makeup. You can’t just do what you want. It’s about working with a team and taking direction, but you’d get to use your skills. Create gnarly creatures like this.”

He scratches the back of his neck. “Never thought much about it. Didn’t have my high school diploma. Didn’t have many options.” He leans toward me and studies his own sketch. “You think I’m good enough?”

“Honestly? These are amazing. I could put you in touch with a friend back home. You could find out more, see if it’s something you’d be interested in. I’d be happy to research programs in Vancouver.”

“What program?” Nico’s hulking frame steps into the room.

Fifteen

Nico

Josh and Raven are head to head, the two of them poring over his sketchbook. Raven has that look about her—hands restless, electricity in her eyes—like when she sets up a photograph. All night my focus has been glued on her. How she never seemed to judge the peeling paint in the dining room. How she laughed at Josh’s stupid jokes and complimented my mother’s food. She didn’t get grossed out or turn her nose up when my siblings smeared gravy and mashed potatoes on each other.

My last girlfriend, Lisa, refused to spend time in my apartment. She said it was too cramped, but I saw how she’d scrunch her nose at the used coffee table and sparse furniture. Alex, before her, would always have plans when I’d invite her to my mom’s. With me, my girlfriends were sweet and fun, but it was like they wanted me to be something I wasn’t. Tonight they would have curled their lips in distaste, and I would have apologized later and would have somehow felt less. Having Raven here makes me feel like I’m more.

Josh bounces his knee as she mentions something about an art class. “What program?” I ask.

He shrugs, but there’s nothing casual about the way he’s vibrating. “Raven thinks I could be a creature designer or something. Maybe go to school for it.”