Chapter 33 Heaven
Heaven
I take the quickest shower of my life and am reminded that blow-drying my hair takes eight freaking years.
I get it mostly dry and run to find Dad, who’s fresh out of his own skate park shower.
He gives me two braids up the back into two buns on top of my head.
If I wrap it right, it should last me another two days.
I’m heading out for a long night at the Yeuns’.
I’m not staying over, but we’re gonna get pizza and play Gran Turismo into the wee hours. I also need to talk to Miss Kelly.
Saylor and I have been missing each other all day.
She texted me when I was at the skate park, and then when I messaged her back, she was out with her family.
She told me to let her know when I finally watch her mom’s post about the party, but I haven’t gotten to it yet.
I drive over to Jake’s, and as I park, I see another text from Saylor.
Did you watch it yet?
Also, you’re cute.
I almost type something close to “love you too,” but think twice about it. Still, I’m smiling when I message her back.
I’ll watch it now.
And you’re cute.
I leave my car running because it’s still like eighty degrees out as I switch over to Instagram.
I did myself a favor and didn’t check it earlier because I wanted to honor the vibes of Skate Church, and I think that was a good idea.
I have tons of notifications. Not just from Mrs. Ford, but a bunch of other people.
I let the sound play for a second—it’s some poppy song that’s being run into the ground but I’m sure is good for views—then mute it and let the video play.
It’s a nice recap of the party. I try not to cringe too hard when I see myself leaning over one of the twin’s arms drawing my little heart out.
Still, it’s nice that Mrs. Ford got some close-ups of the kittens in the sand.
For my first time doing this, they came out pretty good.
I brave a look at some of the comments. There’s nothing weird, well nothing weird for a Cristine Ford comments section at least. I read one comment about how twelve-year-olds don’t need tattoos, and I think I’m good for now. I text Saylor back.
Your mom missed her calling as a movie producer.
Thank her again for me.
I go back to my Instagram, take a deep breath, and look a little closer at my notifications.
I have more followers and a bunch of likes.
There’s only a few new comments—all on stuff from a few days ago, and all nice and chill.
There’s a handful of direct messages that I’m a little scared to check.
After all nothing good goes on in the DMs. Part of me thinks about waiting until I see Saylor again, but I suck it up and click on the first one from this woman who’s apparently friends with Mrs. Ford.
She wants to know if I’m willing to do temporary tattoos for her five-year-old’s upcoming party.
She knows it’s short notice, but she loves the idea of doing more beach themes.
Reading the message again does something weird to my pulse. Something not good.
I don’t respond. I just click to the next message and then the next and the next.
It’s all the same. Parents of kids who were at the party or parents who follow Mrs. Ford.
There’s a brand that prints temporary tattoos spamming me with discounts to print sheets of my work for the next event.
A weird sensation starts thumping in my ears.
It’s new but familiar, and I don’t like it at all.
I’m about to go back through my likes and new followers when Saylor texts me back.
I’m really sorry about the comments.
Maybe she shouldn’t have tagged you.
I blink and for half a second I don’t know what she’s talking about. She’s still thinking about the madness on her mom’s account. It is a lot, but I’m stuck on the idea of doing that whole party setup for a five-year-old from a family I don’t know.
Just skimmed the comments.
I think that was part of me working the party
The exposure.
It’s all good.
I feel movement out of the corner of my eye. When I look over, Axel scares the crap out of me, pressing his face against the car window. I roll it down and he sticks his head in the car.
“You coming in? You got a Gran Prix to lose,” he says.
“Yeah, you wish. I’ll be there in a sec. I’m talking to Saylor.”
“Oh, bingo business?”
“Uh, yeah. Don’t touch my controller.”
“Imma lick it! Byeeeee!” Axel spins around and skips up Jake’s front steps. I look back at my phone just as a new text from Saylor pops up.
I just feel bad.
I didn’t want you to get roped into the negativity.
Okay, now I feel bad. Are the comments on her mom’s video a lot? Yeah, but I’m not worried or thinking about them. I’m working up a low-grade panic attack over how to respond to these direct messages.
Say, I’m fine.
I promise. Are you okay?
Define okay?
I glance over at Jake’s house and think about driving over to the Fords’ instead. Jake and Axel would understand. Or they would if they knew what was going on between me and Saylor, if they knew how much I cared about her, but they don’t and they can’t.
Do you want me to come over?
No, I’m okay.
Some matching ad merch showed up.
And she wants to make more content tonight.
I blink and feel so silly for not realizing this sooner, but this is really Saylor’s life.
That madness I experienced for one day and am happy to never experience again.
She explained it to me, but I was so confused by her showing up at my house at the time, I didn’t fully get it.
Saylor has to deal with her mom, and her mom’s followers, every day.
Even if she doesn’t look at the comments section or the number of likes, she knows what’s going on. I cannot imagine how crappy that feels.
Can I help?
Just let me vent in person.
The next time I see you.
I’ll need it.
You can always vent to me.
I almost type something close to “I love you” again, but I don’t.
I wish I could run over to her house and just hug her and tell her it’ll be okay.
But I don’t think it’ll be okay until she goes to college, and even then, I can still picture Mrs. Ford showing up at her dorm room with lights and her phone mounted to her shoulders, still asking Saylor to show off her outfit of the day.
I set my phone down and take a deep breath.
Too much is happening. Saylor is freaking out, even if she’s saying she’s not.
I’m freaking out about Saylor and those DMs, and I have maybe two more minutes before Jake comes outside to ask me what’s taking so long.
And I have to beat Axel in the Clubman Cup 550. I text Saylor back.
I’m at Jake’s but let me know if you change your mind.
I’ll come over.
K.
I sigh again, feeling more confused and less helpful. Finally, I grab my stuff and head inside. Jake meets me in the front room just as I’m stepping out of my sneakers.
“Hey, you cool?”
“Yeah. Saylor was just telling me something. Your mom’s home, right? I gotta show her some stuff from the party.”
“In her office.”
“Cool, I’ll be back to kick Axel’s ass in a minute.”
“No, you won’t!” Axel yells from the living room.
I head down to their home office. Mr. Rick is in the corner sorting through the half-filled boxes of T-shirts they keep in the house. Miss Kelly is at her drafting table working on something on her tablet. I knock on the open door.
“Is now a good time?” I ask.
“Hey! Yeah, come in.” Miss Kelly pushes her chair back and puts up her pencil.
“Heaven, it’s been a whole two hours since I’ve seen you. How are you doing?” Mr. Rick says. He absolutely ate it at the skate park earlier but managed to walk away with just a scrape on his tattooed elbow. We’re all glad he survived.
“I’m good.” I laugh. “I wanted to show your wife the results from the party.”
“Oh, good. I was waiting. How was it?” she says, waving me over as she stands. I cross the room and join her.
“It was interesting. I was really nervous at first, but after the first three, I settled into it. The hard part was not rushing. Like making sure the lines were still good and the kittens looked like kittens and not sad blobs at the beach.”
“You hear that?” Miss Kelly says to her husband.
“Yup,” Mr. Rick says with a smile and a nod. “You’re learning all the tough stuff early. You sign up to do a convention and offer to do a hundred flash pieces in two days, and pray to God you remember how to move your fingers by the time you get to the last one.”
“And then you realize you should never do a hundred flash pieces back-to-back ever again,” Miss Kelly adds. “But the party was good? Mrs. Ford had everything you needed?”
“Yup, it went pretty smoothly. And she tagged me in her video too.”
“She sent it to me this morning.”
“I—I can’t imagine doing that much to promote my work,” I say, suddenly thinking about Saylor and how upset she is.
“I mean, you don’t have to,” Miss Kelly replies. “Not like that. Her content is her job. That’s her product. She’s the product actually, but I didn’t tell you to get your socials up because I think you need to become an influencer.”
I don’t mean for my sigh of relief to be so loud, but I’m sure Axel and Jake hear it in the other room.
“You are an artist, full stop—unless you want to become an influencer,” she says.
“I do not.”
“Well, there you go. Leave that to people who want that life. You focus on what you love and improving your craft. All of this”—she gestures to my phone—“don’t worry about it.”
I am worried, though, I almost tell her.
I’m nervous that this kind of intense posting will overwhelm me, like I will turn into a mega influencer just to prove how good of a tattoo artist I can be.
Or maybe I’m worried that I’ll become the kind of person Saylor sees in her mom, where all that matters is the content.
I almost tell Miss Kelly and Mr. Rick, who is still busy separating T-shirts, about everything.
About me and Saylor and why I’m really feeling a little in over my head.
“Mrs. Ford tagged me, and I got a bunch of DMs asking me to do more parties for other kids.”
“Yeah, that was a possibility. Your flash was super cute. Do you want to do that? I mean, you can look at it like a face painting gig. There is a lot of money in that.”
“No,” I say confidently.
“Okay.” Miss Kelly laughs. “Well, just politely tell them this was a onetime thing and then I think you should tell Mrs. Ford it was a onetime thing, so she doesn’t start telling people to contact you for future gigs, if she hasn’t already.”
The idea of my inbox flooding with moms from around LA makes my stomach turn, but I’m glad I have Miss Kelly back up my hell no.
“I wanted to post the kitten series on my page, but now I’m not sure.”
“I think they are super cute, and there is a whole clientele for cute pieces. And they are yours. They aren’t the property of Cristine Ford.”
“Maybe I’ll just post the flash sheet and not the pictures I took.”
“I think that’s a great idea,” Miss Kelly says. We talk a little longer, and then I head back to the living room and show Axel how driving is really done.