Chapter 8
If Knee Timewas unexpectedly easy, then journaling is unexpectedly hard.
Sometimes when I journal, I just sit down and the words flow out like water from the tap. Other days, not so much. I remember reading Tarzan in high school. When Tarzan’s teaching himself to read—as unlikely as that actually is—he thinks the words are bugs on the page. That’s how I feel about words today: they’re bugs on the page, scrambling around with all their little legs going every which-way and not making any sense at all.
I tap my pen against the smooth paper and write a hasty line.
The more I love my daddy, the more I can love him.
Ugh, wriggling bugs. That doesn’t make sense and it’s not what I’m trying to say.
I scratch through the line. I don’t erase it or scratch it out so thoroughly Logan can’t read it, because Daddy likes to see the evolution of my thoughts. But it’s not right. Rubbing the sore spots in my side where the diaper pin punctures are healing and shifting on the very sore spots I’m sitting on, I try again.
The more I love my daddy, the more capacity I have for love.
That’s closer but it’s not about capacity. My chest is already much too small to contain all my adoration.
It’s about depth.
The more I love my daddy, the deeper my love gets.
That’s right. It’s not my most elegant turn of phrase but maybe that’s good. My feelings transcend words. Their expression should be raw.
I put my pen aside and pull out my sticker box. I go through my collection one by one, trying several combinations on the page before settling on a combination of hearts, a skull with a rose, a black cat, and the Batman logo.
Daddy likes puzzling out what the stickers in my journal mean. He usually figures them out. When he doesn’t, I don’t enlighten him. Daddy likes little mysteries.
I wiggle in my chair. My butt’s so-so-so sore. Belphegor is an evil, evil, evil paddle that must be destroyed. Sable, who is lying on the table, trying to worm his way onto the journal so I pay attention to him instead of writing in it, looks up at me and purrs.
I put my face down to his and kiss between his ears. “You’re awesome, boy but Daddy’s a little bit awesomer. Not much. You’re the most awesome kitty in the world. But Daddy’s Daddy. He’s hard to top.”
“That’s good to hear, baby doll,” Daddy says, strolling into the kitchen through the open door to his office. Master Mac’s a step behind him, looking extremely bleary after a scene last night that went late. He mumbles something about dinner I pretend not to hear before he stumbles upstairs.
If I’m speedy, I might have dinner prepared before he wakes up. Mwahaha.
Daddy makes tea and brings two cups over to where I’m sitting. He puts both cups down in front of him as he sits at the breakfast table across from me. He blows into one cup several times before testing it with his pinkie and passing it to me.
“Ta, Daddy.”
“You’re welcome, sweetheart. It looks like Mac and I are going to have to stake-out Sacrum to see if we can catch this thief.”
“Really? What about all the cameras you installed?”
He seemed so sure the cameras would work. I know he even gave the club extra cameras on his own dime, because he asked me what I thought before he did it and I encouraged him if it would give everyone at Sacrum peace of mind.
“One caught an image of someone in a black hoodie. All the rest were disabled with electrician’s tape. Out of my own damn bag. Joker’s B didn’t do any damage to them, just stood under each one and put a piece of tape over the lens, without getting caught in any of the overlapping fields of view. I swear, baby doll, it’s like she watched me install them. She knew exactly where each camera was.”
“Could she have watched you install them?”
“I have no idea how. I was alone in the hallways most of the time.”
“Spooky, Daddy.”
He nods but the frowny doesn’t leave his face.
“I know you and Bren think Joker’s B is harmless but I’m not comfortable with you coming on the stakeout, baby. This isn’t a sexist thing, even though I know you and Brenna think I’m a caveman. I just can’t take any risks with your safety. Can you understand that, sweetheart?”
I bite back my smile. Bren and I discussed our respective Dom’s caveman tendencies a great deal after a business rival and two of his Neo-Nazi friends attacked her before Halloween. Brenna’s a kickboxer and they got the surprise of their lives when she turned the tables on them. That wasn’t enough for our Doms. Daddy and Mac and some of Mac’s biker friends tracked down the bad guys and made sure they would never bother Brenna again. Daddy won’t tell me what happened but Bren found out that bones were broken. More bones were broken.
I slip out of my chair, kneel next to Daddy’s, and put my arms around his waist. “I know you’ll keep me safe. I’ll be sad that you’re away overnight but I’ll be fine. Brenna’s here. And I could have a Littles’ Army sleepover.”
Daddy groans. “We need to talk about this Littles’ Army thing, Emmy. I don’t approve of militarizing your playgroup.”
“Militarizing is a strong word, Daddy. And you said I should make friends. Sammi, Yummy, Aggie, Cynnie, and Amy are becoming really good friends. Littles’ Army is just what we call our friend circle. Like a boy band, only for littles.”
Logan rubs the bridge of his nose. “Baby?—”
“Master Mac is having T-shirts made, Daddy. Think of how disappointed he’d be if we didn’t wear them?”
“Okay but promise me no more glitter bombs. I’m still picking glitter out of places it has no business being.”
It’s hard to keep a straight face because I’m particularly proud of that prank. Daddy tried to give Max a lesson in spanking technique. Cynnie and I—very coincidentally and purely in celebration of National Glitter Day—had glitter packets in our back pockets.
Glitter really does get into strange places when ejected from pockets at high speed.
I unwind my arm from Daddy’s waist so I can hold out my pinkie. “Promise.”
He shakes my pinkie and pecks a kiss on the tip of my nose. “You can have a sleepover as long as Brenna agrees to supervise and Max can monitor you. I’m not sure what his schedule will be like after he’s landed.”
“Could it be someone other than Max? Sammi’s still very angry at him.”
“Because Max scuttled your butts on the fainting mini-goat escapade, yes, I know. Don’t think the caregivers haven’t been talking about that a great deal, little girl.”
I have to duck my head to hide my grin. “You said you weren’t angry about Harry-the-Mini-Goat, Daddy. The bad scientists were experimenting on him.”
Daddy wraps his arm around my shoulders and gives me a squeeze. I burrow my face into the curve of his shoulder. “I’m not angry about rescuing Harry. I’m concerned you didn’t bring the situation to me. This is the sort of thing that Daddy helps his little girl with.”
“I would have if Max had refused to drive. We were still in the planning stage of the rescue, Daddy.”
“I accept that, sweetheart but I want it to be very clear that if you ever get to the execution stage of another of the Littles’ Army’s crackpot schemes without involving me, there will be punishment. You could have been arrested for trespassing on private property and stealing a goat, baby. That’s not okay.”
“I promise it wouldn’t have gotten that far without me telling you. Promise-promise.”
Logan gives a long-suffering sigh. Poor Daddy.
“As long as we’re clear. I know Sammi is planning some sort of revenge on Max. Jack’s monitoring Sammi’s messages. I’m telling you right now, baby girl, that’s not a ball you want to start rolling.”
I tip my head back so Logan can see my face. “I’ve been staying out of that. I know Sammi is angry at Max. I’m not. I understand why he told the daddies. I really was about to bring it to you once Cynnie said Max wouldn’t drive. I’m not part of any revenge plan. Cross my heart.”
Daddy kisses my forehead. “That’s a good girl. I want you to have friends and do fun things with them.”
“You just want me to be smart about our shenanigans. I understand, Daddy. I can have fun in a safe way. Promise.”
He cuddles me against his side. “That’s right, sweetheart. I trust you, you know I do. I just have to know you’re safe. Getting arrested upstate for trespassing and goat-napping is not safe.”
I give him a squeeze before slipping back into my own seat, because my knees are getting ouchy. There’s no rug under the breakfast table the way there is under our big dinner table and kneeling on the hardwood floor is double-tough.
As soon as I’m back in my seat, I stretch my hand across the table. Daddy folds his big, warm paw around it.
“I promise to be safe, Daddy. You promise to be safe, too. No more hits to the head.”
Logan nods. “That’s why I’m taking Mac with me. No ops without backup. That’s the new rule.”
It’s a good rule, given Logan’s injuries over the last six months. He’s recovered really well. He says he feels stronger and healthier than he did before the evil massage man broke his skull. Or after Rick-the-Dick aggravated his injury by punching him in the face. He can carry and toss me around the way he did before he was hurt, and, crazily, I think his stamina is even better than it was. But repeated head injuries are a bad idea by anyone’s estimation. Max and Mac have promised me they’ll never let Daddy be hurt like that again. I trust them but I’m glad to hear they’re putting rules in place.
“And don’t be too harsh on Joker’s B if you catch her?” I ask.
“Baby, I know you think she’s not malicious but she’s creating chaos at Sacrum. It has to stop.”
I nod. I’m not sure why I’m convinced Joker’s B isn’t a bad person. I just am. Her notes to Daddy, the way she only takes small things that are easily replaced, the way she never damages anything. I know it’s not okay; theft is wrong. I just feel like there might be some justification for what she’s doing, like our plans for liberating Harry-the-Goat. Sometimes you have to do the wrong thing for the right reasons. Even Daddy, who adheres as rigidly to rules as anyone I’ve ever met, agrees with that.
“Are you going tonight?” I ask.
Daddy rubs his hand over the back of his neck. “If Mac’s up for it, I think so. If not tonight, tomorrow. Club’s too busy over the weekend and Joker’s B almost never steals anything over the weekend anyway.”
“I’ll wait until Master Mac wakes up before I post the sleepover in the playgroup chat.”
Daddy nods. He checks his phone then puts it face down on the table. We’ve already had breakfast so it’s not against the rules for him to check his phone but I know what he’s waiting for. Max and Mr. De Leon are flying to England today. Their take-off was delayed by a fault with the plane. Max’s text said it wasn’t hard to repair but they needed to wait for a part to be delivered. Daddy’s waiting for the text that says they’ve taken off.
“It will be okay, Daddy.” I squeeze his fingers.
“I know, baby. I’m just ... excited? Anxious? Impatient? Nervous? I’m feeling a lot of things. I want Livvy to be here with us. I know it’s not long now. I just have that sense that things could go wrong at the last minute.”
I know he’s all those things. Logan has a good poker face but I’ve learned his tells over the last few months. The way color pinkens his cheekbones even after he’s been sitting for several minutes; the way two fingers on his right hand keep tapping the table, his thigh, his teacup; they’re all signs of agitation. And I know he’s precariously balanced right now. That’s why I put the Batman sticker in my journal. He’s my Batman Daddy as much as he’s my dragon-Daddy. He feels driven to protect everyone around him. I love that about him but it’s also a huge weight on his shoulders that he needs help managing.
“Do you want to call the hospital again?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Doctor Amadi has my number if anything changes. I don’t want to harass her. She’s been great about providing updates. She confirmed that Miranda’s visitation privileges were revoked yesterday. Miranda won’t have access to Livvy again before Max arrives. I just?—”
“You’re just worried. It’s totally understandable, Daddy.”
“Thank you, baby. I don’t want you to worry. Max has dealt with Miranda before. He can handle her if she pulls anything at the eleventh hour.”
“If you don’t have to go to Jersey today, could we do something to get your mind off things until Master Mac wakes up?”
Daddy’s handsome face creases into a smile. “Yes, we certainly could. Is it a good day to visit the Rexes?”
“Really?” I bounce in my seat. “Or-or-or, could we visit the big ships instead because I’m saving the Rexes to visit with Livvy?”
Daddy took me to the Intrepid Sea, Air and Space Museum on a rainy day after Halloween. I loved all the naval history but better than that was seeing Daddy’s fondness for the big ships. He talked more about his time in the military while we were there than he ever has before. Having him remember those times today might be a good pressure valve for his anxiety.
“You liked those big ships, huh? We could definitely do that.”
“And maybe Cappa could come with us? It’s near where he’s living now, isn’t it?”
Daddy hums. “We’re going to have a lot of people-ing once Livvy arrives, baby doll. Sure you wouldn’t like a day with just the two of us?”
I nod eagerly because I always want a day just with Daddy. I feel selfish when I’ve kept him all to myself for too long, though. So many people love Daddy and want to spend time with him. I don’t want to deprive them, or isolate Daddy from his friends. But I really do love spending time just with my Daddy.
Once we agree on the plan for the day, we move fast. I make sure Sable has food and water. Sticking pork chops in marinade only takes a few minutes. I leave a note for Mac and Bren telling them about the picnic leftovers in the fridge in case they’re hungry and reassuring Mac that I have dinner covered. Then I run upstairs to let Daddy dress me and help him pack my backpack.
Now that the cooler weather’s settled in, Daddy loves seeing me in tights, a short skirt, and oversized sweaters. There has to be a little pink, of course, because it’s Daddy. But he’s gotten into my pastel Goth aesthetic more than I ever could have hoped. Today, it’s stripey black and teal tights under a black cobweb-edged mini with a hot pink crinoline and an off-the-shoulder black sweater that says “Daddy’s Little Ghoul” in pink rhinestones, which Bren and I made after enduring days of Daddy’s terrible Halloween jokes. The sweater has thumb holes in the sleeves so the cuffs make half-gloves, something I’ve always wanted, and corset-style lacing from my wrists to my elbows with dangly ribbon laces.
While Daddy laces up one sleeve, I sneak my black cat ears off the dresser and slide them into my curls. When Daddy looks up, I grin.
He chuckles. “That’s how it’s going to be today, huh, little girl?”
I nod. “It’s a cat ears kind of day, Daddy.”
“Then I think you need to wear something for Daddy.”
Uh-oh. Wearing something for Daddy is inevitably owie.
I try it on, as Daddy would say.
“But, Daddy, everything I’m wearing is for you.”
“Nice try, little girl. Go to the cupboard and get me the flat pink clamps.”
Grimacing, I shuffle to the big armoire where Logan keeps all of the instruments of nipple and bottom torture. Tragically, I know where everything is by heart now. I fish out the horrible clamps, which not only bite in but close over the tip and squish my poor nips flatter than pancakes. The only good thing about them is the pretty pink enamel on the clamp’s face but even that quickly pales with how sore I’ll be from the nasty little teeth and squashy-squash-squash in a few hours.
Daddy fastens them on, left then right, his eyes holding mine and drinking in each flinch as the teeth pinch in and the top squashes. He plants a kiss between my breasts before he smooths my sweater back down over my breasts. I look down, hoping that the clamps will be visible under the sweater, since Daddy didn’t give me a bra to wear today. He doesn’t like other people to be able to see my nipples, so maybe he’ll take the awful clamps off if they’re too visible.
But no, any outline that might show against the cloth is covered by the “Daddy’s Little Ghoul” lettering. I sigh, resigned to a day of nipple torture.
“I’ll check them every hour, baby doll. Yellow if you need a check-in sooner.”
“Ta, Daddy. Thank you for taking care of me even if your nasty nipple clamps are more bitey than a Rottweiler.”
Logan laughs. “What are you like, little girl?”
“I’m like a baby with chewed-up nips.”
“I’ll make sure they’re not too chewed-up in an hour. If you can keep them on through lunch, I’ll make time to fuck my baby good and hard before I go to Jersey. How’s that for a good deal?”
“Deal, Daddy!”
“That’s better. There’s my enthusiastic girl. Let’s go have fun.”
Despite the horrible clamps, we do.
New York’s changeable fall weather cooperates, spitting rain while we’re on the train but clearing to blue skies and scudding gray clouds as we walk down to Pier 86. Daddy’s quiet as we clamber over the huge aircraft carrier. I make him pose with me since he looks extra rugged and Daddyish today. He hasn’t shaved in a few days and his beard has come in dark and soft. Daddy’s eyes are always wolfy and magnetic but never more so than when he wraps me in his arms and poses for selfies. His white teeth flash when he sneaks a hand up my sweater to tug on one of the clamps, which gets me squealing and batting at him. He captures a shot of that on his own phone and sends it to the playgroup chat, which causes my phone to light up with suggestions from the Littles’ Army on how to deal with nipple-clamping daddies.
He gets more serious when we get on the submarine. He tells me about the men in his unit, including Manny and Max, and what it was like to live and work in such confined quarters. That Max is an unbeatable chess player doesn’t surprise me; that Manny is good enough at Uno to play at the competitive level does.
“I didn’t even know there was such a thing, Daddy,” I say as I peer into one of the bunk rooms.
“Mmm-hmm. First world championship was held not too long ago. Manny was invited to play in the qualifying rounds but he turned them down. Too busy with our business, Jen, and the kids.”
“Wow.”
“Don’t ever get drawn into playing Manny for anything but pennies. He’s phenomenal at Uno but he’s also damn good with other card games. He used to clean me out regularly at blackjack and poker, too, the bastard.”
I giggle, imagining Logan’s chagrin losing to his business partner. Daddy’s very good at games. Card games, board games, sports games, Daddy loves them. Except Hearts. There, I reign supreme.
“Does he play Hearts, Daddy?” I ask.
“I’ve never seen him play Hearts.” Logan rubs his hand over his mouth. “You are extremely good at Hearts.”
“Blunts’ Hearts Crowned Champion,” I say, pretending to buff my nails against my sweater but not actually doing it because I don’t want my sweater to press against the nipple clamps. They are owie enough.
Logan claps his hands together. “I know what we’re doing after dinner the next time Manny and Jen come over.”
Grinning, happy to have diverted Daddy both from his worries about the Great Baby Caper and somber memories of his time in the Navy, I link my arm through Daddy’s as we tour the rest of the sub.