Page 67 of Outside the Lines
That didn’t sound so good. I found the coffee maker and took a chance the mugs were stored in the cabinet above. Yup. Bingo. There was cream in the fridge and every movement of pouring myself a cup in this kitchen felt perfect. The only thing that didn’t was a distraught Lydia. I pulled out one of the stools and sat next to her. “So, what’s up?”
She blew out her breath. “Well, last night, I walked past Howling Moon and saw this shirt.” She smoothed out the T-shirt, and yup. It was one of the new Wolf’s Landing designs.
I studied it, not quite understanding what she was getting at. Then my heart dropped. “This . . . kinda looks like that poster you showed me.”
She nodded slowly, then turned her laptop. The poster was on the screen and the top right corner, the one with Gabriel Hanford and a wolf, wasexactlythe same as the T-shirt image, albeit mirrored.
Ice washed over me. “You didn’t submit the design.”
“No.” She wiped her eyes again. “I never would . . . or could.”
“Wait—why couldn’t you? Your art is great!”
She twisted her lips. “Well, one, it’s fan art. And two, remember, I’ve also drawn some . . . explicit . . . stuff of the actors. You know, the ones thatlive in my town.”
Oh. Yeah. She’d mentioned that before. Could be embarrassing. “So, no one knows it’s you?”
“I use an alias online, and I only post on Fandom Landing.”
One of the bigWolf’s Landingfan sites. I think I was about the only person at work whodidn’thave a covert account. “Someone stole them from there?”
Another nod. “Or someone posted them elsewhere or something.” She crumpled up the shirt. “Doesn’t matter how it happened.”
Her art had been stolen and sold as officialWolf’s Landingmerchandise. If she stood up and claimed the image, everyone would know her identity. Part of me didn’t see the issue with that, but clearly Lydia had deep reservations. “What do you want to happen?”
“I’m not sure. Simon’s gonna freak and tell me to fight. I hate that my art is being used. It’s not the money—I didn’t draw them for cash, you know? I did it because I love the books and the show and—” She wiped away another tear. “Fuck. Ihatecrying.”
I placed my hand over hers and gave hers a little squeeze. “You’ve never sold any pieces, right?”
She tapped on her laptop with her other fingers and blushed. “I did once, but it was completely behind the scenes and an entirely different piece of art. This guybeggedme to make a print of one of my drawings so he could give it as a wedding present to two big-timeWolf’s Landingfans he knew.” Her smile was faint. “I couldn’t say no.”
Probably not him, then. Why pay for something you could steal? “I could poke around a little at work and see if I can find out how they go about licensing stuff. Get you that info—and you can decide what you want to do about it?”
“Yeah.” Lydia breathed out. “Okay. But only that, Ian. I—don’t want to out myself. Not yet.” She chewed her lip. “Maybe not ever.” That came out as a whisper.
Anger and sorrow snaked through me. They made a killing off merchandise. If the person who’d stolen Lydia’s art got a fraction of that, it was still a tidy sum. That money should be Lydia’s. But I also understood her reluctance—this was Bluewater Bay. She did live here withWolf’s Landing, the actors, the producers, all of us.
Hell, I’d read fanfic of the show before I’d joined production, but once I’d met Carter and Levi, I couldn’t read stuff that paired them together. Feltweirdto read about them—or their characters—boning each other, then see them on set. And then they’d gone and gotten married and boy, thinking about that was weirder. “Where does personal end and professional begin?” I hadn’t meant to speak out loud.
Lydia returned my squeeze. “Exactly.”
A thumping sounded down the stairs, and Simon lumbered into the kitchen, all sleep and mess. He stopped short when he saw us. “Oh shit. What happened?”
Lydia repeated her story to Simon while I went and got coffee for him and refills for Lydia and me. As predicted, he freaked out.
“But you have to tell them it’s stolen, Lydia! You can’t let them get away with it!” Simon’s voice rose and he pushed his jumble of hair around his head.
“I’m not going to stand out on a street corner and admit I draw pictures of Carter and Levi fucking! Don’t shit where you live, remember!” Her eyes were wide and she’d slid off her stool.
“Guys.” I set three coffee cups down on the island. “Pause for a moment.”
They both stared at me. Simon rubbed the back of his neck and plopped his ass down on the stool I’d occupied. Lydia sank to sit as well. “Who takes cream?”
Lydia opted for cream, Simon for none. I fixed everyone’s coffee, pushed the mugs in front of them, then pulled out another stool and sat. “Yelling’s not gonna help.”
Simon peered down into his coffee. “They’restealingfrom her, Ian.” Hard voice. Same one I’d heard yesterday.
“I know. And it’s wrong.” I took a draw on my joe.
