Jack Of All Trades Is Also A Painter

Hello, hello, and welcome back! So today, amidst the hustle and bustle of our crazy lives, I have somehow managed to work up the second part to the snippet I published a few months (weeks? Months? See, it’s been too long) ago. 

Many of you (including my mother (and even Twi’s mother)) expressed wanting to know what was in Drake’s letter, and where he was mailing it. (This is called a cliffhanger, and is a torture instrument used by authors on their readers.) 

I originally had another serial series planned, and that will take a considerable amount of work before I can officially consider it a serial. (This is called procrastination, and is another form of torture which the author inflicts upon themselves for no coherent reason).  

But while I continue working on Royal Vendetta (mainly ignoring its existence in hopes that the plot holes will get bored of waiting and fix themselves, and while they’re at it, the words can magically appear on the page and make my job a whole lot easier), I will post “part two” of my previous snippet (in which you get to see more of Drake and the letter, and possibly why Diana did not become a librarian). 

So without further ado: 

(but let’s stop here, because why not “ado” further? It’s such a fun word, and believe me, hilarious things happen when people get the chance to “ado” nothing, such as “Much Ado About Nothing” written by Shakespeare. Hilarity in and of itself.) 

MAY I PRESENT: 

“Jack Of All Trades Is Also A Painter”

Drake cranked the parking break into position. 

Diana clenched her jaw, furious with him. She couldn’t believe her brother’s audacity! How dare he drag her all the way into town and not even let her go anywhere? She gripped her camera ferociously, following his ridiculously tall frame into Upton’s Pawn Shop. 

Ralph, the owner,  had casually mentioned changing the name to Upton and Ashdown, since Drake owned half of it.  

No doubt Drake believed it would cast him off in society more. Not like he cared. He cared about what he couldn’t control, and took care of what he could.

She sighed, stepping into the dimly lit BackBack, as they called it. It was a small warehouse filled with the odds and ends that they didn’t have enough room for in the front.

“What’s up?” Drake asked, sauntering in ahead of her. 

Lee, Ralph’s grown nephew, didn’t look up from where he leaned over a small table. “Anything taller than a lamppost, such as yourself.”

Drake snorted, then stopped, turning to Diana with that look she always took to be his eldest sibling’s self coming out. “I have a letter to mail. I’ll be back.”

“Wha-?”

“Stay here.” The hard look in his eye told her not to argue.

She glared, but let him pass, sticking her tongue out at his retreating back instead.

“How are you faring?” Lee’s deeper voice drew her gaze away from her brother.

She slumped into a chair near the table he was working at. “Terrible. Drake’s got no sense of entrepreneurship. I don’t know how this building hasn’t fallen to pieces.” 

Lee raised an eyebrow, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. 

She noticed he held a thin paintbrush in his fingers. Blue and gold paint splattered his finger-tips and nails, dried drops sprinkled the bandages wrapped around his knuckles. 

She frowned. “What are you doing?”

He shook his head, almost at himself. “I don’t know.” He turned his focus back to his work. 

After several more moments of surveying his careful craftsmanship, she gaped. “You’re painting.” 

He straightened to his full height, (which was rather tall in her opinion), dropping the paintbrush and staring down at the drying paint. 

“You don’t paint.” She scrunched up her nose. 

He shrugged, running a hand through his hair, flecking it with specks of gold and navy blue. 

She didn’t move her gaze from him. “What are you? Jack of all trades? Master of all?”

He rolled his eyes, grabbing his paintbrush and tossing it into the sink, then disappearing down another aisle of the small warehouse.

She was forced to lose sight of him and instead set her eyes on his work.

A delicate crown lay on the table, made of wood no doubt, and painted beautifully. Gold and silver and navy blue. 

The colors of their country. 

“Where’d you get the crown?” She asked loudly.

“I made it.” He answered.

“Ridiculous.” She lifted her camera and snapped a picture. 

Ever since his arrival, Lee had clearly set himself apart from the rest of the young men and women. Not on purpose, he just didn’t fit in. Everyone suspected him to be an AWOL or something (everyone observed his oddly military habits, such as getting up at five am, though how anyone could observe that when they themselves have not gotten out of bed is quite a mystery), no one expected him to be educated in fine arts, or so good with his hands. 

Truth was, he was broke and homeless, save for his uncle’s help, and yet he had the richest mind of them all.

She shook her head to herself. “Where’d you learn to do this?” 

He came back around the shelf with a towel, wiping his fingers carefully. “My mother.” 

She stared at him, afraid movement would deter him from elaborating. 

He stared down at his hands, slowly wiping away the paint. “She knew a lot of things.” He said quietly, then shrugged, dropping the towel onto the table and sliding his hands into his pockets. 

Diana inwardly huffed. Fine, let the man remain mysterious. She didn’t care. 

“Who’s Drake mailing a letter to?” Lee’s brows knit together in thought. 

Diana shrugged. “How should I know? What he does doesn’t affect my life.” 

“You’re his sister.” 

“Pish posh.” She sat back down in the chair.

A short pause. “Okay then.” 

So in conclusion, we have learned next to nothing about Diana becoming a librarian. Or where Drake’s letter is going. I apologize. Apparently my characters aren’t ready for this yet. BUT ON THE BRIGHT SIDE, you met Lee. I didn’t know he could paint, and then this happened, and apparently he can paint. I’ve known him for two years, and apparently he can paint. This blew my mind, although considering all the other things he’s done to me, it shouldn’t really surprise me. 

So tell me! Would any of you be interested in a serial featuring Drake, his letter and unmatched height, Diana, her camera and non-existent library card, Lee, who is the most dexterous (I love that word) of them all, and Adelaide, who is supposed to be a lead but hasn’t appeared yet?

Though due to complications, it might be a while… I shall continue my efforts into a serial, be it this or another. I know that I as a reader hate it when the author is like: CLIFFHANGER and leaves (I’m looking at you, Ev). 

Sadly I have become my own worst enemy. Apparently. Oh well. 

And with that, I wish you the best you could possibly have with a cliffhanger. 

~Louise.