✔Paint Me a Murder | Book 1

Chapter 1: Cocaine Cash

Their hearts were like bottles of paint on the shelf, waiting to be brought out to color their world in shades of emotion.

Crimson painted the sink. Bloody tissues scattered across the counter and around Kazimir's bare feet. Nosebleeds had become a part of his life after he'd gotten addicted to cocaine.

Before returning to his room, he washed away the evidence. He scrubbed the sink until it sparkled and hid the bloody tissues under the piling garbage in the waste can. His secret was safe, but for how long?

He'd thought a change of scenery would help, but his addiction followed him like a traveling companion. Being separated from the root of his problem solved nothing.

Kazimir sat down on his old but reliable art stool and started working on a new piece. When he was younger, he used to think art was pointless. Sometimes people judge things too quickly in life and put labels on them before giving them a chance. Painting started as a way to earn cash for his drug habit, but it became so much more than that. With his paintbrush, he could imagine a place where he could be free.

Countless teachers who saw nothing but another troublemaker in their class never tried to help Kazimir discover his passion. They all assumed the worst for his future. But then, he met his high school art teacher, and he changed his outlook on art.

Rhett Lamphere had been a wild soul. He sported blue hair and a perpetually peppy tone of voice. Kazimir's initial impression of the art teacher was, where the hell did they find this fruitcake? That was before Mr. Lamphere opened up about his own history with drug addiction and offered Kazimir support. Kazimir tried denying he had a problem, but his former art teacher saw straight through his lies. Mr. Lamphere helped him stay clean for a few days before he'd mess up and relapse.

The day their principal barged into the classroom to tell Kazimir and his peers that Mr. Lamphere had died in a drive-by shooting on his way to work no longer felt as shocking. Three years had passed, but the memory remained vivid.

Vengeful thoughts had played through Kazimir's mind about harming the teen responsible for killing his mentor. But he knew Mr. Lamphere would've been disappointed in him if he'd gone through with it. Mr. Lamphere believed in giving all his students second chances. If he hadn't, he never would have gotten through to Kazimir.

A knock on the door interrupted Kazimir's daydreaming. "Hey, man. Open up."

"The door's unlocked," Kazimir told his roommate before he pushed it open. "Watch your step."

Tiptoeing on the huge white sheet Kazimir laid out across the floor, Jordy avoided stepping in any paint splotches. Kazimir looked up at his dark-skinned friend, who carried his Chromebook under his arm.

"Did you need something?" Kazimir asked, laying his paintbrush down.

"Your room is a mess." Jordy crinkled his nose. "It looks like Picasso's afterparty in here."

"Sorry. After I finish here, I'll clean up."

"You're fine. Art can get messy. If you're almost done, you wanna head over to Chipotle with me and my friends?" Jordy asked.

"Sorry, but I already made plans. Maybe next time?"

"Sure, no problem."

Kazimir smiled at him. "Have a good time with your friends."

"Thanks, I'll see you later." Jordy grinned back at Kazimir and walked out of the room.

Kazimir was grateful to have bumped into Jordy in a Facebook group for young artists. They talked all the time about Kazimir moving to New Syracuse from his hometown in North Dakota, and he finally got enough money saved up two weeks ago. Kazimir had a lot of problems back home, and Jordy needed a roommate to help with rent. It was the perfect plan.