Page 32 of Daddy's Little Chaos Gremlin

15

TRISTAN

It was a beautiful night, which made it easy to avoid thinking about my studio despite being seven days from my next reveal. The statue was done already. It was basic and I hadn’t been happy with it, but I doubt I had the time to create anything new out of any of the dozens of photos I’d already taken of Zephyr.

Well, maybe if I went smaller.

What about a trio of tabletop statues? The kind that could sit on the mantle over a fireplace. I could pick three possess from him playing in the water at the beach in Blackpool, when the sun had been setting behind him. The windows were perfectly placed to afford us a view of the setting sun, and I knew there were sunset-themed cocktails that could be made both with and without alcohol. What if Theo used them for inspiration for the meal? I could even change the ropes between courses and turn it into a demonstration for our guests.

Floating on the surface of the pool always relaxed me, and tonight, Daddy had Eric Clapton’s “Slow Hand” album playing in the background, while he floated halfway across the pool, on a big, three-person raft he shared with Zephyr, who was curledup beside him, suckling on one of his nipples. Daddy had made us each bowls of cubed steak pieces, medium rare and piping hot. He’d topped them with Yum Yum sauce and then Theo had presented us with little bowls with our caprese and fruit salad in them. I’d eaten my fill and not had to worry about leaving a lot of room for later, or disappointing Daddy, which had been one of the best feelings ever.

Now that I wasn’t stressed about letting him down and not being enough to handle his needs, I could actually think without being distracted by stray niggles of worry. They’d been creeping in a lot lately, and I knew that was why I’d wound up with a piece that I was completely unhappy with and didn’t want to unveil to the special group of collectors I’d cultivated over the years. Some traveled hundreds of miles to be here and only attended one or two dinner parties a year. The last thing I’d ever want was for one of them to feel cheated and not want to return for another viewing.

Some were even gallery owners, while others came to dinner parties and later commissioned their own pieces, often of the longtime subs they brought with them. Giving everyone the best experience possible was a big part of how I’d come to Daddy’s attention in the first place. He’d come to one of my earliest showings, at a lake house owned by a friend’s family. They’d been my first patrons, allowing me the use of the garage and the space to create anytime the lake house was empty, and in return I’d gifted the family with several pieces that decorated the lake house to this day.

Daddy and I always spent a week out there fishing and racing each other across the lake with Hamish and his husband. I couldn’t wait to introduce Zephyr to them when they came to the unveiling. I’d only told them a little about him over text,when I’d touched base to let them know I’d received their RSVP and couldn’t wait to see them. I always sent them one, on the off chance that they could make it, but Hamish had married a professional hockey player and they spent a lot of time on the road. It would be so good to see them again, and they always stayed the night and spent at least a day with us catching up before they headed back home. Hamish loved movie marathons as much as I did, and I just knew that he was going to love Zephyr.

My little brother was wide awake and listening to the story Daddy was reading him, but he waved and his bright blue eyes lit up when I paddled over. Theo was drifting nearby, too, splayed out like a starfish in a float that looked like a strawberry donut with sprinkles. All of our floaties had food themes. The big one Daddy and Zephyr floated on looked like a waffle, with butter, syrup and little square compartments and everything. Daddy liked them because he could put things in them, like the mini shot bottles from the bar beside the grill, where the smart speaker sat. The speakers were all over the house and sometimes, we cut in on what someone else was playing and a real battle of the bands ensued as we each demanded that the streaming service play something different. He might have to finally consider expanding the plan now that we had Zephyr. He had an amazing playlist on his phone that I’m sure he’d want to listen to without always having to be tethered to the device. I kept a box on the counter by the door of my studio for mine, so nothing would befall the one I had now the way it had my last one.

Molten metal versus plastic and glass hadn’t been a war my phone had been able to win, but I had managed to salvage things a little, by making the spill, complete with my cell phone imbedded in it, the base of the project. I’d crafted the modelmid-bend, with one rope-encased leg extended toward the sky while they’d bent to retrieve it with bound hands and a torso covered with a rope corset. With a little work, I’d made a metal casting of words drifting up from the phone and mounted it in a crack I’d jabbed through the screen with the metal edge of the casting. It hadn’t been easy, but I’d cemented it there with carefully poured metal that I’d feared would well up and wreck the glass, or at least be extremely noticeable. It had been tedious work, and Daddy had still needed to replace my phone after he’d seen what had happened to it. He’d been proud of the way I hadn’t let it derail me, and my resourcefulness in making the mistake turn out in my favor. Considering the cost of the phone I’d wrecked and its replacement, he’d proudly claimed the finished piece after I’d unveiled it. It now sat in a place of honor in the dining room where I held my unveilings, along with several other pieces he’d refused to see sold off.

I had a savings account filled with money I never had to spend unless I wanted to, which I sometimes did, whenever I spotted something to surprise Daddy with. He loved getting gifts and I loved seeing his eyes light up whenever I presented him with something I knew he’d love but would never in a million years get for himself. Like the Joker cookie jar in the kitchen and theCourt of Owlscomic arc, complete with the amazing ceramic mask that had been packaged with it, I’d found the last time he’d turned me loose in a comic shop with a stern warning not to go anywhere until he came back for me.

While he’d been raiding Home Depot for things he could turn into implements of fun, I’d found a pile ofNightwingcomics that I cherished and read way too much, and an awesome cape I only wore for special times with Daddy. Ohh, that was another place I needed to take Zephyr. During our morning in the hotel, I’d discovered that he loved anime, though he only owned a fewbooks, since they took up a lot of space and were heavy to carry around. He’d have bookshelves to put them on here. There was plenty of room in the playroom, which was where I kept my comics. It was huge and had plenty of empty spots.

As excited as I was to tell Daddy and Theo about the theme I’d come up with for the unveiling, I waited until the end of the story, not wanting to interrupt, though I’d heard it before. It didn’t mean that Zephyr had heard it, and he really seemed to be fascinated by Daddy’s words, or maybe it was just the soft lull of floating with Daddy. I loved that, too, when I wasn’t feeling squirmy, and my mind wasn’t racing with ideas I was struggling to stitch together. It was never good for me to be on the waffle float with him when I was feeling that way. It just resulted in us landing in the water, and a grumpy, damp Daddy for the rest of the night.

Ohh yay, he’s almost done.

I listened impatiently, with my fingertips stroking over the slippery edge of my floating pepperoni slice until he’d finished the final word, nearly flipping myself over the edge of my floatie in my excitement.

“I wanna do a sunset theme for my unveiling,” I declared, having to force myself to slow down so the words didn’t all run together. “But I’m going to redo the statue, too. I really don’t like the one I was gonna unveil.”

When Daddy’s eyebrow shot up, I rushed to explain my plan before he had the chance to caution me against stretching myself too thin and stressing myself out.

“I know I don’t have time to make another large piece, but I can make three smaller ones from the beach shots I took of Tristanplaying in the surf. I think they’d be awesome, especially with a resin base of sand and shells. I have plenty of both from our trip to the shore, and I’d just had a ton of resin delivered right before we moved into the apartment, and shimmer powder to color it. I already have the perfect molds for the bases, too. I can pour them in the morning, then start working on the sculptures. I know I have enough time to do a trio of them, and if it’s okay with Zephyr, we could put on a Shibari demonstration for our guests, which would allow me to change his bindings throughout supper, so they’d match each display.”

Now that I’d gotten my whole idea laid out, I no longer felt restless or anxious, and in a hurry to blurt out my thoughts.

Zephyr released Daddy’s nipple was a soft pop and gazed up at me with a milky grin and heavy-lidded eyes.

“I don’t mind changing positions and bindings whenever you need me to,” Zephyr explained. “That means you’ll get to touch me during dinner, and I love having your hands on me.”

Now I nearly tipped the raft out of pure joy as I slithered off mine and onto theirs, helped by the arm Daddy held out for me. He cuddled me close to his side and peppered my face with kisses until I was giggling and almost flipped us again.

“All right now, settle down, squirmy, and tell me how you came to the conclusion that you needed to scrap your current sculpture,” Daddy said.

“That’s easy, Daddy,” I replied as I settled my head against his shoulder. “It just makes me sad to look at. How am I supposed to pull off the cloth with any confidence when I already know that it isn’t my best work? I want to be proud of the pieces I show off and I want our guests to leave still talking about them. I wantthem to talk about our dinner party unveiling on social media and to their friends when they go to work. I want my sculptures to make an impact and I always know when they’re going to. I can feel it in my tummy. It makes me feel giddy with anticipation when they start gathering around to wait for the unveiling. I wouldn’t be able to hold my head up, let alone smile at them if I have to bring that statue to the dining room. It’s good enough for a functional piece, maybe in that spot you have reserved in the tulip bed. I could put a water can in its hand and have resin water pouring out of it.”

“Having seen it, I think it would be perfect for the space,” Daddy said thoughtfully. “I’d be happy to have it installed there, once you’ve deemed it ready. In the end, you have to be happy with the unveiling or I see no point in us having one. If you feel that you can be ready for Saturday, then we will keep things the way they are scheduled. But if at any point I feel like you are pushing yourself too hard, or you start breaking into incontrollable bouts of sobbing the way you did before the March unveiling, then I will pull the plug and we will reschedule. No arguing and no negotiation, understood? Thisisthe negotiation, and it is the only one that we are going to have.”

Gentle and firm, that was my Daddy. There would be no wiggle room, but I also understood why he was laying down the law. March’s unveiling had been a nightmare of nervous energy and constant tweaks, right up until the day I’d brought it out. Even after it had sold and was carried out of the house that night, I’d felt like there was still more work I could have done on it. Some tweak I could have made to elevate it from a beautiful piece to extraordinary.

Yes, I set the bar high for myself. I always had. Being mediocre had never been something I’d been willing to accept. Ichallenged myself, constantly worked to perfect new techniques, and I pushed myself harder than any of my early critics, mostly art teachers, had ever tried to push me. Hell, some had attempted to stifle my ideas and had even marked me down for not submitting the same old tired piece as the example we’d been given. I always read the rules and the requirements, I just tended to get a bit extra and struggled to dial back my ideas to something more…ordinary.

I hated being ordinary more than anything. It wasn’t that I wanted to live in the spotlight, I didn’t. It would suck to have everyone’s eyes on me, waiting for me to mess up or suffer the slightest mishap so they could splash it all over the internet. But I did want my work to be distinguishable. I wanted my creations to be conversation-worthy. I wanted them to evoke feelings in people, and maybe even challenge the way they thought. I wanted to share with them the juxtaposition of soft and hard and what I felt whenever I got to weld those two things together. I wanted my sculptures to tell stories and hoped that one day, someone sitting and staring at one would be inspired to break out a notebook and pen and craft the story of what was going on in the moment I’d captured. Daddy had even found a group that paired sculptures with poets where the sculptor brought the poet’s words to life with their piece and both were unveiled at an awesome gallery night that had been amazing to attend. But it wasn’t the same as having it work the other way. I wanted to be the one to inspire someone.

Daddy got that, though. He got me. Even if Zephyr had only been with us for a week, I got the impression that he got me, too, and that was awesome. He was a member of my circle now, and as more than just my muse and my kitten. Looking across Zephyr at Daddy, I just knew I’d also found a friend.

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