Page 24 of Dozer

He turned the oven on to preheat, and began cutting the onions and mushrooms, dumping the onions into the butter in the pan as he cut.

“Low heat for this. We want to caramelize the onions, and we don’t want to burn the mushrooms once they go in. Also, butter cooks better at low and medium heats. It won’t happen in the next couple of weeks, probably, but at some point, you’ll have scales and a spreadsheet, and you’ll be required to weigh once a week, or maybe twice a week, but I don’t think doing so daily is healthy. I’ll double-check that, and if I’m wrong, you’ll be able to, but I don’t think I am.”

He wasn’t wrong. I’d lied to my therapist and told her I weighed every Sunday morning, because she didn’t like that I weighed myself every day.

“Since I’m supposed to be honest, Master, I’ll tell you that I’ll err on the side of not eating enough, if I can’t be sure I’m not gaining weight. I weigh every day so I can keep my weight from fluctuating. You’ll find out that the experts say the way I do it is wrong, but it works for me. I’m not bulimic, and not anorexic. I focus on eating healthy, Master, but once a week, I splurge on a favorite. Maybe a small milkshake, or a piece of cheesecake with chocolate on it or in it, or maybe a handful of Reese’s Cups. I eata lot of salads in between, sure, but also hamburgers, and steaks, and I’m a big fan of barbecue with baked beans.”

He already knew what I liked to eat, but it seemed I should repeat it, for this conversation.

“I appreciate the double-honorific for a long paragraph.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t say anything. He was quick to punish me for answering a question without using Master, and it had seemed that, even though the rule was to use it once every time I spoke, when I spoke a long time, maybe it was safer to stick it in there twice.

“You asked about hobbies, Master, and you already know I enjoy drawing and painting. I’d love a set of good pencils, a sketch pad with heavy paper, and maybe some acrylics? The pens I like are expensive, but I’ve found some less expensive ones I don’t hate, Sir.”

He didn’t mention theSir, though I’d also had aMasterin there, so maybe that’s what made it okay alongside the stronger term of respect. He hadn’t punished me for getting it wrong, so far, but a few times, he’d told meSirwould be fine, rather thanMaster, and I was beginning to understand it was about the energy in the room as well as the subject being discussed.

He moved the pans off the burner and turned to me, his face completely blank. He stared at me a good ten seconds before he walked into another room and returned with a sheet of paper out of the printer, and a pencil.

“Sketch my face.”

“Can I sit at the table please, Master?”

He lifted me down from the island and motioned me towards the table. I walked to it and began sketching his face from memory, since his back was to me while he worked at the stove.

I’m good with faces, and the beard made it easier, so within five minutes, I had his likeness rough-sketched, and I tilted the pencil sideways to work on shading.

He’d put the waffles in the oven by then, and had the eggs in the pan with the mushrooms and onions. It smelled like the bacon was coming along, too.

But he turned when I started shading, almost as if he could hear the change in the way I was working.

“Let me see.”

I held the paper up, and he sighed.

Chapter 20

Dozer

Well,fuck.

Letting her go before she was completely broken wasn’t an option. How had I not put her desire to be an artist into the equation of whether she could convince LEO it was me who’d taken her? If she drew a picture of me right from the start, I’d be fucked.

“You’re good. I’m impressed. Write down what you want me to get, in the order you want them. Paper first, I assume, and then either the pencils or the pens or the acrylics — assume you’ll only get one thing to start, so put the one you want most in your number two position. If it’s the pens, write your preferred brand down and put the less expensive version in parenthesis.” Unless they were stupid-expensive, she’d get the good ones, but it wouldn’t hurt to have a backup.

“Also, if you need different kinds of paper for different tools, then you’ll want to match those up on your list, and maybe make a note to tell me which paper goes with which implement.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but I shook my head. “I’m done with this subject. Art is clearly one of your talents, tell me another.”

“I’m good with words, and especially with creative writing. I love to read, to get carried away by a great fiction novel, and my creative writing teacher told me I excelled at the short story assignments she gave me. My parents required that I be ableto back up my arguments with facts, and that I learn how to properly debate. One of the schools I went to focused on Socratic learning, where we had to learn about a topic and then take part in an educated, roundtable discussion about it, debating the topic and not the people. I realized they were preparing me for a legal career, but I was good at it, and even enjoyed it, even though I don’t want to go into law.”

Not what I’d meant, exactly, but she’d tried to answer so I wasn’t going to tell her she hadn’t understood the question. I changed tactics and asked, “Shortcomings?”

“Sports. I suck at sports. Mom put me in ballet and I was an utter failure. Dad tried to get me interested in soccer, and Iwantedto be good at it because my friends loved it, but, again, I was an utter failure. Mom sent me to volleyball camp, and I hated every moment. Oh, and don’t get me started on the wall-climbing thing she thought I’d be good at because I don’t weigh much and someone told her it would make it easier. I actually did okay on the kid course, but the holds were too far apart for me on the main courses.”

Well, that might explain why I’d hit a wall getting her to look graceful moving between positions. If she was a born klutz, it was possible she’d never get the hang of it, and I’d just have to be okay with the best she could do.

“Did you enjoy the kid course?”

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