Page 68 of Outside the Lines
“But it’s also my name and my reputation, Si,” Lydia said. “I realize you want what’s best, but welive here—and I do work in the comic-book field. I can have fan art on the side. But making money off someone else’s property is right out.”
“People sell their fan artall the timeat cons!” Simon sighed and looked up. “I don’t understand why it’s such a big deal.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to be known as the pervy chick who drew Carter and Levi dueling with their dicks.”
I nearly spit coffee out my mouth. I managed to swallow, but the giggles came after. “Oh my God, really?” I couldn’t stop the laughter.
Lydia turned red and then snorted and soon, all three of us were stuck in a laughing fit. When it finally subsided, I rubbed my forehead. “I get what both of you are saying. But the simple fact is that it’s Lydia’s art and name, and she has to do what’s best for her.”
Simon gazed at me for a long time, and then at Lydia. He softened. “Yeah, you’re right.” He seemed to struggle with what he wanted to say. There was the anger and the sadness I felt written on his face. “It’s sounfair.”
Lydia twined her fingers in his. “It is. But let me find my own way, Si. Help me, but let me steer.” She reached over and grabbed my hand. “And thank you for listening.”
Simon stretched his arm across and I put my other hand in his. A circle. Weird, wonderful, perfect. Now I wanted to cry.
A quirky smile formed on Simon’s lips. “Thank you for talking, too.”
I couldn’t think of the correct words to say, so I nodded and let the Derrys hold my hands while butterflies danced in my chest and my heart beat out a steady rhythm.
Over the next week or so, I tried to find out how licensing worked and man, was that ever a tangled mess. No one on set knew. Everyone in the art department shrugged. Later on, after I’d exhausted people to ask, the art director pulled me aside. “Ian, you’re not thinking ofsellingwork from here, are you?”
Ohshit. “No!” Little prickles of cold danced across my skin. “I saw some new T-shirt designs at the shop in town and got to wondering how the heck they find the artists for those.”
He relaxed and leaned against my workbench. “Gonna try your hand at graphic art?”
I laughed. He knew my two-dimensional work was . . . lacking. “I can barely draw stick figures. It’s sculpture for me. I was curious, I guess. Is there some kind of in-house merchandise place, or . . .?”
“Honestly, that’s a whole different side of the property. Not tied to us at all.”
So, a bust. I thanked him and then showed him the work I’d been doing on the retro shoot. In the end, he was pleased, and I swallowed the lump in my throat and asked the question I didn’t want to ask. “Has there been stuff vanishing from set?”
“Na. But occasionally, we get someone with the bright idea to make some bucks off old props.”
“I wouldn’t do that.” Shit, would never have occurred to me. Stuff belonged to the studio—I was only part of the creative team. If anyone owned anything, it was Hunter Easton. Though I bet that wasn’t technically true, given the arcane tomes contracts were.
He nodded. “You’re probably the last one I’d suspect. You were worried about taking your badge home the first day.”
God, that brought back memories. I ran a hand through my hair. “I was a little in awe of the whole place.”
“Stay that way, Meyers. You’re a breath of fresh air.” He clapped me on the shoulder and headed out.
I asked Anna about merchandizing, but she stared at me like I’d grown an extra head. “We don’t have anything to do with that.”
Searching around online led to very few leads. I’d only discovered that it was pretty damn hard to find out how to submit art to Wolf’s Landing. By Wednesday evening, I had nothing at all to share with the Derrys other than myself. I brought another less expensive bottle of wine over, and Simon got two large pies from Flat Earth Pizza.
Not high class, but none of us were feeling particularly snazzy, especially when Lydia pulled out a second T-shirt with her artwork on it.
“Well, fuck.” I didn’t know what else to say.
She tossed it down next to the pizza boxes. “I’ve started to get congratulation notes on Fandom Landing.” She picked up her wineglass and downed half of it. “I think I’m gonna delete my account.”
“No, sweetheart!” Simon rubbed her arm, his face a mess. “You love that place.”
“Some backstabbing bastard from there stole my art.” Her hands shook and she set down her wine. “I’m not loving it at the moment.”
Deleting her account wouldn’t make the situation go away or find the person who stole her work—especially if we got a lead and could dig up whoever was doing this. “Maybe . . . take a break from the site? I mean, if it’s stressing you out.”
The tension seemed drained from her body and she leaned against Simon. “Yeah, that’s probably a rational reaction.”
