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When the kid was out of earshot, Christian turned to Shea and said, “Shit. We’re going to end up buying him a pet chicken.”
His husband sighed and said, “We totally are. It’s impossible to resist those big brown eyes.”
After we ate and cleared the table, Zachary and TJ brought out a pile of small boxes. On the top of each was a photo of a tiny metal rabbit. While I opened my box and started to fiddle with the pieces, Gabriel pulled up a video on his phone and showed me the screen as he said, “Here’s the type of thing Zachary and TJ make out of recycled bits and pieces.”
The video was of an incredibly intricate metal dragon that was maybe five inches long. Its motion was surprisingly lifelike as it stomped across a tabletop, slowly swinging its head from side to side like it was scanning the area. When I turned the screen toward Harper, he exclaimed, “Woah, that’s super cool!”
“We obviously tried to simplify our design as much as possible so kids could do it,” Zachary explained. “And we already know this’ll have to be for ages twelve and up with these small parts, but even then we’re worried it might be too frustrating.”
They walked us through the building process for the next hour or so. At the end of that time, all of us had a tiny rabbit sculpture except for Harper. He chewed his lower lip and fumbled with the pieces, until Phoenix finally sighed and said, “Let me help you.”
Harper dumped the parts into Phoenix’s outstretched hand, and not three minutes later, Phoenix handed back a completed rabbit. “This is why you need to come back to work for me,” Harper said, as he unleashed the full force of his perfect, dimpled smile and cranked up the charm. “You know I’m totally lost without you.” Phoenix was probably the only person on the planet who was immune to Harper’s appeal, and he just shot him a look that said, oh please.
“Okay, it looks like everybody’s done,” TJ said. “Now here’s the test to see if they went together properly.” He pushed down on one of the tiny rabbit figurines, and when he let go, it took three hops forward.
All of ours worked, including Harper’s, and his face lit up in absolute delight. “That’s awesome,” he said. “Do you sell the stuff you make?”
Zachary told him they did and recited the name of their website. Christian got up to make some coffee while Harper and I both pulled out our phones to take a look at their work. A few moments later, Harper grabbed his wallet, dumped out a small avalanche of credit cards, receipts, and business cards, and fished through them until he found a platinum Visa.
By the time Christian and Shea served a platter of cookies and the coffee five minutes later, Harper had finished placing an order. “Thank you for that,” Zachary said. “Which piece did you get?”
Harper stuffed the cards and receipts back in his wallet and flashed the couple a smile. “All of them.”
TJ blinked and asked, “Um, did you look at the prices?”
“Yeah, and you guys should really think about charging more, because your art is super cool. I’m definitely going to check back when you put some more pieces online.” Harper reached for the cookies and piled three on a paper plate while I did the math. The couple’s original kinetic sculptures sold for three or four hundred dollars apiece, which meant Harper had just spent about four grand without batting an eye.
Cooper ran into the room, as if magically drawn by the presence of cookies. The chicken was right behind him, and she was now wearing a little rainbow-colored tutu. Shea asked, “Where’d you find the chicken skirt?”
“It’s from a doll in the daycare room. Can Loco keep it? Look how perfect it fits her,” Cooper said. Meanwhile, Loco ran across the room, bumped into the stage, switched direction like a Roomba, and kept going.
“Sure. She can definitely have the tutu,” Christian said. A moment later, the chicken dashed into a supply room, and Cooper ran after her. “Oh yeah, we’re definitely going to end up with a pet chicken,” Christian muttered. “He just chose her over cookies.”
We all gravitated across the room to watch when Zan picked up an acoustic guitar and started playing. His husband sat down right beside him on the edge of the stage, and Gianni rested his head on Zan’s shoulder while the rest of us sat on a mismatched collection of chairs.
A moment later, there was a small crash, and the chicken ran out of the supply room sporting a brightly colored comet trail of crepe paper streamers. Harper started to get up, but Gabriel grinned and said, “I’ve got it. I’ve been wanting some chicken time.”
