Devil Daddy (Bratva Daddies #1)

Chapter 1

Eddie

As the sound of coffee percolates, customers bustle, and the hustle of the city outside seeps into the café, I take a brief moment to myself.

I was up late last night, and only just got up and out of bed before I hit the snooze for a fourth time this morning.

But, hey, at least I didn’t sleep in this time…

I know people might think that being an artist in the big city is a life of fancy gallery openings, big money, and lots and lots of free drinks and socializing, but I can say with total confidence that this is very much not the case.

Damn, ain’t that the truth.

I might only be twenty-two years old but these last three years have seen me go for days without enough money for food, couch surfing for somewhere to stay, and barely with a single possession to my name.

But through it all I have managed to keep my art going.

Materials cost money and I’ve sacrificed so much to make sure that when the sun rises, I’m able to do my thing from sunrise to sunset.

I’m lucky that I’ve got a supportive network of buddies in the city art world.

Without them, I would have sunk without a trace within weeks of arriving in the city and ended up going back home to live—and probably from there ended up giving up on my dreams entirely.

You’re probably wondering what kind of stuff I paint, right? Am I an expressionist? An abstract artist? Or do I go more for portraits?

Well, kinda none of the above.

You see, while I do love to paint from time to time, my real passion is working with my hands and sculpting from clay.

And this has been the case going all the way back to art class and Mr. Tan who sat me down in front of a potter’s wheel and gave my license to have fun, get creative, and let my hands do the talking… as opposed to my mouth.

Sitting still and listening at school was never exactly my strong point.

Far from it, in fact. But Mr. Tan was the kind of teacher who would only shout and bawl as a last resort.

He would always look for a solution first. And in my case, it was the pottery wheel—and this was a stroke of genius on his part.

Before I knew it, I was coming into school early to make sure that I got my daily turn on the wheel and then as I developed my interests I moved more into sculpting.

It could be animals, people, or some crazy shapes and designs that were simply figments of my imagination.

Sometimes I sculpted things that were so abstract that even I couldn’t explain what they were.

Either way, I was hooked.

My grades were always kinda average, but when it came to art class, I was a star student.

And Mr. Tan always made sure that he was there for me when I needed someone to lean on and ask for advice.

Home life was never exactly stable, so it felt super-cool to have a person in authority I could rely on and trust when it came to issues both inside and outside of school.

Losing Mr. Tan was tough though. He was taken too soon, and the fact he passed away just before I graduated high school probably explains why my life went kind of wild for a hot minute.

Leave home for the city with no plan? Check.

Fall in with crazy party friends? Check.

Rack up debts and find myself homeless? Check and check again.

Since then though I’ve managed to climb up off the floor a little bit.

I’ve got a part time job working in a café, and I’ve managed to move into a tiny little studio apartment in a co-op building for artists.

I’ve even managed to save up a teeny-tiny amount of money that means I don’t have to panic quite so hard if I lose a couple of shifts at the café or an unexpected cost comes up.

The biggest thing though is that my work is actually starting to get recognized a little now. It’s not like my sculptures are selling for millions of dollars or anything, but there’s starting to be a little bit of a buzz around my name.

I’ve had agents making enquiries, and galleries too.

In fact, my debut show is coming up very soon.

I’m not kidding myself. I know that my whole world won’t change after one show in a small gallery downtown. But to see my name on posters and online in promo material for the gallery opening is one hell of a buzz!

LUCY LUCK: WELCOME TO SUNSET

—a debut show from the city’s brightest new sculptor—

Honestly, the first time I saw the poster, complete with an image from the show, I nearly burst out into tears. It was probably a good thing I didn’t though, as I don’t think the paying customer at the café would have been overly appreciative of his oat flat white being submerged in my salty tears.

Speaking of oat flat whites…

“Robbie, I need two flat whites, both oat,” I call out as I walk across the café, doing my best to dodge in and out of the customers as the early morning rush begins to take full effect.

“And I need your butt behind the counter helping me!” Robbie hollers back, rolling his eyes in mock anger as he zooms from one coffee machine to the next, his nimble movements a blur as he gets on with his tasks like the pro he is.

“We’ve got four juices. Two OJ, one pear, and one pineapple. All to go. Got it?”

“Got it!” I reply, high-fiving Robbie as I walk past him and get myself set up at the juice bar. “I think this morning is going to be another busy one.”

“You don’t say,” Robbie chuckles, his blonde hair looking as shiny as ever.

Robbie is my co-worker, and the reason that I passed my trial shift at the café.

If it wasn’t for him, I think I might have been shown the door after only an hour on my first day when I got an order so spectacularly wrong that I might as well have poured all six coffees directly into the wash basin.

Robbie is fast-talking, ambitious, and doesn’t do bullshit. But he’s kind too and has the kind of sassy sense of humor that I really love.

Oh, and he’s a Little too.

Just like me.

I’m not saying that he covered my butt on that trial shift just because he could see I was a Little, but I’m pretty sure that it definitely had something to do with it.

And the truth is that at the time I wasn’t even entirely sure I was a Little either.

But hanging out with Robbie, going to Little play centers and parties with him has really helped my work out who I am.

So, yeah, Robbie is great.

But even though we’re friends, that doesn’t mean I’m immune to receiving the full force of his sassy callouts from time to time. Quite the opposite in fact…

“Sorry guys, Eddie is new,” Robbie says, throwing the customers a wink as I prep the final juice. “You have probably never been served a slower juice in your lives, but honestly it’s gonna taste great!”

“Hey, you just stick to the coffee,” I retort, proudly presenting the juices to the customers who gladly take them away. “Oh, and if you guys like art... check this out.”

I place a promo flier for my gallery opening on the counter and smile my best smile as the customers gladly take that away too. They might throw it in the trash without even looking. But… they also might be art lovers who will come to the show and maybe even buy a piece.

“Ever the optimist,” Robbie says, his hands moving in a flurry of highly precise activity as he pours some beans into the machine with unerring accuracy. “But seriously, I think you’re going to smash it. Well, hopefully not literally. But you know what I mean.”

“Ha! Yeah, I hope my sculptures don’t get smashed too,” I laugh. “And thanks. I know you’ve got my back, Robbie.”

And with that, we get back into the flow of work.

It’s going to be non-stop juices and coffees for the next couple of hours before it slows down. And once that’s all done, I might be able to relax a little and have a think about how I’m going to make some last minute adjustments at the gallery when I head over there later.

But for now at least, it’s time to get juicing…

I wave goodbye to Robbie and fist-bump Martique as he comes to take over as my shift ends. I’m all done for another day as far as the café goes.

But in terms of work? No, I’ve got a long stretch ahead of me.

I need to do everything I can to make sure that my debut solo show goes better than anyone expects. I’ve been trying to not over think things or put too much pressure on myself but the reality is very different.

I know that first impressions count.

I know too that there are a dozen other sculptors of my age in the city who have solo shows coming up. I need to stand out. I need to show the world that Eddie Luck is an artist with a difference, someone who has that extra edge.

“Hmmmm,” I say, exhaling and inhaling the crisp winter air as I walk down the block toward the crossing.

I’ve got eleven blocks to go until I get to the gallery and I’m going to do my best to use this time wisely. No daydreaming about crazy future shows or super-ambitious sculptures I could dream up. I need to stay living in the here and now.

A little adjustment to the presentation of the art. Yup.

Maybe some cool and quirky reels for Instagram. That could work.

Freshly baked cakes for the opening night… too cutesy.

As much as I’d love to bring my Little side to the fore, I think it’s probably best that for this show I keep things strictly about my art. Which is a shame in some ways, because I know of a certain stuffy who would love nothing more than to be front and center of things on the big night…

“Isn’t that right, Goldie?” I giggle, turning my head for a moment and looking at the sight of my most cherished stuffy Goldie, his head peeking out of my backpack.

I’ve had Goldie ever since I was a kid. He’s a proud golden lion with a mischievous side who has been there for me through the ups and downs of my life, never wavering for even a second.

I’ve loved Goldie since way before I knew that I was a Little, and our bond has only got stronger since I’ve been on my Little journey this last year.