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Like a synchronized swimming team, each man’s eyebrows rise and then their heads turn from me to Mrs. Power. I smirk and wait until their focus is back on my box.
I reach inside and lift out a one-foot tall silicone model.
“It’s beautiful. Tell us about the movement in this piece,” Mrs. Power requests.
The oldest man in the room speaks before I can. “What the hell is that supposed to be? Some kind of deformed octopus?”
“It’s an anatomically correct clitoris. This is the part you might be familiar with.” I touch the nub at the top of the sculpture. “And this is the rest of—”
“Maureen, you’ve lost your damn mind. Is this a joke?” The older man stands and plants his hands on the table, facing Mrs. Power in a demonstration of intimidation.
Colt stands.
“John … ”
The man sits. “I don’t have time for this bullshit. I call for a vote on the first piece.”
“Fine. Let’s vote,” says Mrs. Power with a broad smile.
Colt, still standing, speaks, “All in favor of installing Nestrogen in the atrium of our building?”
Mrs. Power raises a finger and nods.
“Opposed?”
The three older men and three of the four sons make hand motions.
“Abstentions?”
Everyone looks to Will, who hasn’t moved. He nods.
The grumpy old man stands and speaks. “Motion to install this piece fails. I’m sorry, Ms. Clay, but thank you—”
“I’m using my veto right,” Mrs. Power says.
All heads turn to her.
“Mother, really?”
She stands. “The motion passes. We are having Nestrogen installed. I’ve already signed the contract. Brian, figure out whether the corporation is obliged to pay for this piece, given the nature of how the decision was made. If not, I’ll cover the expense from my personal accounts. Aiden, work with Catherine to come up with the media lines for the reveal. Will, I’d like you to feature Catherine on your podcast a few weeks after Nestrogen is public.”
The testosterone that had been thick in the air ten minutes ago is now as weak as a glue stick.
Mrs. Power continues, “Move to adjourn.”
Grumbles of, “sure, whatever,” and “ridiculous,” and “as if my opinion matters,” fill the air.
She taps her gavel. “Meeting adjourned. Eric, Catherine, I’d like a word in my office.”
CHAPTER4
Catherine
I’m covered in a natural, manmade product that has the look and feel of straw and small sticks but is hypoallergenic and doesn’t carry mites or bird flu. Kind of important qualities when one is creating a giant bird’s nest in the middle of the lobby of a climate-controlled building.
I’ve had some doozy headlines in my career, but fortunately none that involved hurting anyone … well, if you don’t count the art industry tabloid that ran a six-part series featuring headline quotes from men who claimed I’d used them for artistic inspiration then heartlessly tossed them to the side when I was ready to start a new project.
If the stories had been concocted about anyone else, I admit, I’d have read as voraciously as my peers in the creative sector apparently had. Sure, it may be true that my love and work life seem to move in lockstep, and that each time I have a new major piece revealed, whatever relationship I was in during the build, ends.
