Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
A fter his talk with Saskia, Clay spoke with Dylan again. The kid was already cleaning up his studio, figuring out what he could salvage. He would be okay, and Clay began to see that Saskia had a point. Then he turned inward, as he often did when he needed to think things through.
But he couldn’t forget Gareth’s reaction, and his fear for artists like his best friend. The real world would crush some of them. He couldn’t allow any lingering consequences for Dylan.
Saskia had left, off to confer with San Holo about the mural, Clay assumed.
Hopefully, she would talk with the artist about Dylan, especially because he’d painted in the same alley that San had a week ago.
He could only hope the great man would impart some wisdom that Saskia could relay to Dylan, something strictly artist to artist. Maybe Gareth could help, too, and lend advice from someone who’d been through the same thing.
Then Clay did the only other thing he could. He called for an emergency family mastermind. Everyone was in, and they could all make it by late afternoon.
A few months ago, his sister Ava had started the mastermind as a space for everyone to air their issues and solicit advice. His brothers and sisters were his best friends, always there for each other, even in the middle of the night.
Not quite the cocktail hour yet and a Thursday to boot, the elegant Asian fusion restaurant in San Francisco’s Chinatown was far from full.
Clay had nevertheless reserved the large round table in the middle.
His family were all there for him when he entered.
Even Fernsby, who’d been with Dane—and the whole family, truth be told—for over fifteen years.
He was tall, thin, and ageless—no one knew exactly how old.
Fifty, sixty, or, good Lord, even eighty.
There was just no way to know. But Fernsby dispensed advice like an ancient oracle.
Fernsby, always a miracle worker, had managed to get the restaurant owner to allow him to bring in Dane and Cammie’s mini dachshund, T. Rex. That man could talk anyone into anything.
Clay gave his sister Gabby a hug and whispered in her ear, “Thanks for coming.”
Ava had somehow inherited the red hair of some distant, even far-flung relative, but his younger sister was blond like their mother.
Gabby had driven up from Carmel with Fernsby, Dane, and Cammie.
She owned a bakery on Ocean Avenue, the main drag of Carmel-by-the-Sea.
She’d also franchised her vegan cafés in cities all over the country, where they all used her recipes.
She had no ego, and if one of her franchisees came up with something extraordinary, she incorporated it into the menu, giving full credit.
He moved on, kissing Cammie’s cheek. Then he said to all of them, “Thanks for coming on the spur of the moment.”
Dane clapped him on the back. “We’re family.” Which said it all.
Cammie and Dane had been an item for a year, though Cammie had been his personal assistant for more than ten.
Now his project manager, she oversaw the logistics for Dane’s new resort for kids and adults with special needs.
She was also the love of his life, though it had taken too damned long for Dane to realize that.
Or, more aptly, until he would admit it.
Ava, statuesque and only a few inches shorter than Clay, threw her arms around him, then backed off, holding him by the shoulders.
“Of course we’re here, little brother.” She waved a hand over the group, including Ransom Yates seated next to her.
“You were all here for me last year when I had that catastrophe with the caterer.”
After firing her caterer, Ava had been frantic to find a replacement for her five Bay Area eldercare homes.
Though she had facilities all over the country, and internationally, she used regional caterers for each.
Clay was pretty sure he’d been the one to suggest she try Ransom Yates, a celebrity chef who also catered large events.
Did that mean Clay was also responsible for their love story? Shaking Ransom’s hand, he didn’t miss the gleam in the man’s eyes as he turned his gaze back to Ava.
That was definitely love. Same for Cammie and Dane.
Then it hit him in the chest. Could this be what he felt for Saskia? He hadn’t known her long, but his feelings were different than they’d been with anyone who’d come before. Perhaps even cataclysmic.
As he took a seat next to Ransom at the round table, he asked, “Where’s Troy?
” just in time for his brother to breeze in.
Troy was a couple of years older than Clay.
In fact, all his siblings were two years apart.
The timing was so exact, he had to think his parents planned his mother’s pregnancies around their worldwide ski adventures.
Troy threw himself into his chair, out of breath as if he’d been running. “Sorry I’m late. I had a meeting with a new vendor that took longer than expected.”
Troy had gone from gold-medal Olympic diver to spokesman for several sports manufacturers, and now he’d built his own sporting goods line into a conglomerate with stores worldwide. But he still found time to deliver inspirational speeches to youth groups.
Clay clapped him on the back. “I just appreciate that you made it.”
Troy acknowledged that with a smile. “So what’s the fire burning under your butt?”
Clay took the mic, so to speak. “Dylan put out his first real piece of street art.” His family knew about Clay’s mentorship. “This isn’t like the tagging he does, but something he’s been working on in his studio.”
Gabby put her hand over her mouth before he’d finished, obviously anticipating what was to come.
Clay gave the bad news. “He got trashed. Badly. He was so upset he slashed all but one painting in his studio, and only because we stopped him before he got to it.”
A collective gasp filled the restaurant. They knew the kid, and they felt his pain.
Sitting back, Dane folded his arms. “What can we do to help?”
“Actually, I think he’s taking it fairly well now,” Clay admitted. “Saskia had a talk with him.” At Dane’s raised eyebrow, he explained, “Remember the mural I wanted to have done on the warehouse? I’ve commissioned San Holo. Saskia is his assistant.”
Ransom added, “He’s an amazing street artist, probably rivaled only by Banksy.”
“Saskia?” That could have been a twinkle in Fernsby’s eyes. “You mean the woman with whom you’re having intimate relations?”
Heat rose to Clay’s cheeks as if he’d been caught out in something. He was years past blushing, if he’d ever blushed at all. Until now.
“I can’t believe you just said that, Fernsby.” Gabby shot him a glare.
Fernsby merely arched a brow.
Then all his siblings got in on the act, hooting, hollering, clapping him on the back, filling the near empty restaurant with their clamor.
He raised his palms, sending them all back into their seats. “Saskia Oliver is her name, and she’s actually my problem.” He wagged a finger. “Not for the reasons you’re implying.”
He narrowed his eyes on Fernsby, but the man remained impassive. He didn’t even smile. Though generally short on smiles, since Fernsby had brought Dane and Cammie together, then Ransom and Ava, a smile or two sneaked in more often.
Troy jiggled his finger in his ear as if he hadn’t heard correctly. “I thought Dylan was the problem.”
“Saskia had a talk with Dylan,” Clay explained. “Even before I left, he was deciding what he could keep and what he had to throw away.”
Troy winked. “Then it’s woman troubles?”
He wasn’t going to talk about intimate details in a restaurant, even an uncrowded one. “The problem is what Saskia said to him. More importantly, what she said about Art Space.” Naturally, his family knew all about his video platform for artists.
Gabby looked at him with empathetic eyes. “What did she say?”
“She basically told him he had to suck it up and accept criticism if he wanted to be a great artist.”
“That’s blunt.” Ava’s voice was harsh.
Clay shook his head. “She said it in the nicest way possible. She actually got through to him, too, which is why he cleaned up his studio instead of going off on another tear.”
“But he’s good now,” Troy said. “I don’t understand the problem.”
“I’m getting there. Saskia came upstairs while I was online taking down Dylan’s horrible reviews so he wouldn’t have to look at them ever again.”
They were all silent. So silent Clay could hear T. Rex’s soft snoring as he lay in Fernsby’s lap.
He was forced to continue. “Saskia said my doing that wouldn’t help Dylan grow the thick skin that all artists need.
That he has to learn to accept criticism.
” He once again felt the guilt over what he’d done to both Dylan and Gareth, pushing them to put their art out there before they’d grown the thick skin Saskia talked about.
“You know Gareth hasn’t painted again after he was trashed. ”
“We know,” Troy said, his voice gentle with empathy. “That’s why you built your warehouses and started Art Space.”
Clay’s throat closed up, and all he could do was nod.
“Ever since,” Fernsby said, “you’ve been busily purging any negative reviews for your artists.”
Clay didn’t even nod at that. They all knew he had.
“And dear Saskia told you to stop.” Fernsby leaned forward. In fact, everyone did, turning the spotlight on Clay as Fernsby asked, “You want to discuss who is right in this matter.”
Clay pointed a finger. “Bingo.”
Dane was the first to wade in. “I read every bad review about my resorts. Many of them have good points. I’m able to fix things because of them.”
“I’ve dropped baked goods,” Gabby said, “when reviews said they were dry or tasteless or just plain gross.”
Ava leaned her chin on her fist. “I’ve added new services to my eldercare homes because reviews have told me something was lacking.”