One side of his mouth curved up. “Thanks.”
As soon as the door was closed, I took a moment to admire his work on the wall immediately in front of the door. There was a stunning painting of the harbor, a couple abstract dogs formed from mixed medias and some metal pieces that resembled music notes. Each one reminded me of Riley in their own way, making it clear he used this wall to display who he was and what he was capable of to potential clients.
I was immediately taken by surprise when we rounded the corner. Before us wasn’t the messy, insanely creative space I’d envisioned him working in, but a small, professional show room, roughly the size of my living room back home. Samples of his work were showcased all around us, and there were several shelves displaying different kinds of metals, woods, and vinyl.
I realized my mistake right away and turned to him. “I’m sorry,” I said. “For assuming you just welcomed people into your home.”
He pressed his lips together in a small smile. “Well, I do live here, but thank you. This is where I bring them to talk about their designs and discuss what materials they want me to use if they had something specific in mind. Most of them just give me the freedom to create their pieces how I see best, which I love, but I like them to know they can have a say in the design if they want to.”
“It’s amazing, Ry. More organized than I expected.”
He laughed and went to one of the doors tucked away in a corner and slid it open. “So you were expecting something more like this?”
My jaw nearly fell open as I stepped through, taking in the huge workroom with multiple stations. Hundreds of pieces of different materials were scattered throughout the space and I saw both paint and stain splattered across the benches and walls. There were scraps of tires, bottles, and all kind of recycled trash and other random things stacked in bins. Some of the bins were labeled, though from the looks of things, he rarely went by them. A blowtorch and tongs rested in one corner where a face shield hung on a hook beside it. It was chaotic and messy and screaming of creativity.
I laughed as I turned back to Riley, who was still standing by the door with a smirk on his face. “Yeah, actually. This is more what I expected. Reminds me of our room. Your pencils and papers taking up the entire space.”
He shoved me. “Shut up.”
“How can you work like this?”
“I have to. I have limited time and need to spend most of it on the art itself, not cleaning and organizing,” he admitted. “The showroom was my first investment, although it was more like a closet back then. Anyway, if people sawthis,they wouldn’t trust me.” He chuckled then hesitated, biting his lip. “Did you mean what you said earlier this week? About wanting to learn how to form metal?”
My eyes went wide. “Yeah, I mean I’d love to learn the basics.”
He gave me a shy smile. “Maybe next time you’re in town, I can show you some things, then.”
His words were a reminder I’d been living in a dream these last few days. I had almost forgotten I’d eventually need to get back to Georgia. I had a sister, a niece… a job.
“Yeah,” I said. “That would be great.”
We went back into the showroom, crossing it to the door on the other side, where he paused before looking over his shoulder. “I kind of tricked you, by the way. This is the back door to my house. I’ll show you the front door before you leave.”
We walked up a set of stairs to what I assumed was his apartment, except, it wasn’t an apartment at all. Riley’s home was easily the size of a house, with huge floor-to-ceiling windows that took up nearly the entire length of the living room, providing the most breathtaking view of the harbor. The metal beams above us and throughout the building reminded me of some of the old warehouses I’d been in, but the floor was a light hardwood and the walls and counters were clean and new.
“Is this an old warehouse?”
“Hard to tell from the outside, with the brick and all, isn’t it? It’s my grandfather’s old shipping warehouse, before he closed the business. He sold it to me for practically nothing, and I’ve been slowly converting it ever since.”
“Riley, this is…” I glanced around. “Wow.”
He kicked his shoes off on a mat by the door, so I did the same. Riley froze when he saw my bright green socks with tiny poodles on them.
“Poodles?” he asked, arching a brow.
I just shrugged. “I like fun socks, what can I say?”
“But…poodles?”he said, laughing as he shook his head, then let it go. “Dinner’s about done. Feel free to look around if you want.”
I explored the open living room for a while, turning in a slow circle. Near the windows were two large black sofas with several blankets tossed on them. A glass coffee table rested on a red rug over the hardwood floor. The wall opposite the windows was made entirely of stone and had random slabs of gray or black stones protruding out for shelves, each with a mixture of sculptures, paintings, or photographs resting on them. Most of them had an obvious “Riley touch” to them, but a few looked like they may have been purchased at a store or perhaps from another artist.
One picture caught my eye and I walked toward it for a closer look. Riley was maybe 18 or 19, standing next to an older man, who had his arm draped around Riley’s shoulders. They had the same thick, wavy hair, except the older mans’ was mostly silver with just a few remaining patches of dark. He had a thick go-tee and dark blue eyes. They were standing on a dock in New York, the Statue of Liberty behind them. I recognized the dock immediately. I’d stood almost in that exact place once with Tosh, just a few days before returning home to discover Riley had disappeared from my life for good. I quickly walked away before the pain of that memory could ruin my good mood.
Behind the stone wall was a long hallway. Down it was a large bathroom, a small office, and a few storage spaces. The end of the hall opened to another smaller living room.
I stepped inside and gasped. It wasn’t a living room at all. It was his personal art studio and it wasincredible.More floor-to-ceiling windows covered the left side of the room with dog beds on the floor in front of them. At the end of the row of windows, the glass extended outward into a beautiful bay window seating area, with thick cushions and colorful blankets. I could easily picture Riley curled up there, watching the waves roll in. Across the windows on the opposite wall were dozens of paintings and sketches that simply took my breath away. People, animals, and scenery were depicted in both abstract and realistic form. Underneath the row of art was a long counter with a sink and shelves upon shelves of paints, pencils, brushes, and other various art supplies. Everything an artist could ever want, was probably here.
Two easels stood in the center of the room, small tables by each of them. One held a smaller canvas with what looked like a picture of an old brick home, while the other held a huge abstract piece with rich vibrant colors and textures I couldn’t make sense of but admired anyway.
