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He shoots me an annoyed look. “Actually, while I’m here, I should make a donation,” he muses, and follows me as I walk in. “I’ll text my driver and tell him to wait for me.” He pulls out his phone and starts tapping on it.
“Stop stalking me!” I protest. “Go home.”
“You don’t want me to donate money to this fine institution?” His eyebrows shoot up and he gives me a look of mock horror. We’ve entered the building now. The security guard sees me, nods, and waves me through the lobby, pressing a button so the door into the main area will open.
“Argh. Can’t you do it online?” I demand. He shakes his head and makes a disappointed tsking sound. “So you want them to have to wait for it? Rather than me giving them the money immediately, to feed these poor, starving little orphans?”
“They’re not starving and they’re not orphans,” I grumble, following him in.
He adopts a high falsetto voice. “Please, sir, may I have some more?” he says, quoting the famous Oliver Twist line.
I roll my eyes at him. “Order them a pizza if your conscience is troubling you. They’ll be fine.”
“Well, now I feel like I have to stay here to protect the helpless little waifs from you.”
He quickly sends the message to his driver that he’s going to be here a while. Then he follows me into the activity room, which is a huge open space with a tutoring area, an arts-and-crafts area, a small jungle gym, swings, and basketball hoops.
I have to admit, I am coming off as ungrateful and cranky. The Buddy Match program does so much, and they are funded mostly from donations. In fact, I should hook my sister up with them; she’s fantastic at fundraising.
I just don’t want Paxton here because I know he’s only doing this to mess with me, and he could just as easily donate the money online or with a phone call. The donation would be approved just as quickly that way as if he did it in person.
The program director spots us and hurries out from her small office.
“Oh my goodness, Ruby, have you brought a genuine celebrity here?” Dominique Baptiste says delightedly. She’s a Haitian woman who wears bright, fun clothes with kid themes. Today she’s wearing a yellow T-shirt with dancing ice cream cones on it, accessorized with ice cream cone earrings.
“I sure did,” I nod. “He’s a legend in his own mind—I mean time!” I add, as Paxton tries to elbow me. I’ve gotten too good at dodging fast, and he misses.
“Paxton Saul?” a little boy shrieks delightedly. “The Paxton Saul? The hockey star Paxton Saul?”
Paxton grins wider and wider.
“The Paxton Saul?” I loud-whisper. “The legend in his own mind? The most annoying motherpucker in Manhattan?” He ignores me and walks away to start shaking kids’ hands.
“Hey, Ruby.” Summer calls out to me. She gets up from the table she was sitting at and hurries over to give me a hug.
I discreetly check my purse. She makes a scoffing sound. “I would not boost your wallet here in front of everyone,” she says huffily. “Give me some credit.”
“Sorry, sorry. It’s just habit by now.”
“I always give it back anyway.”
I nod. “That you do. You’re a credit to pickpockets everywhere.”
She steps back. “They’re making me do stupid homework before I can go anywhere with you. Can you get someone arrested? It’s child abuse.”
Dominique gives us an amused look and shakes her head.
“Sadly, no. What I can do is sit and do your homework with you,” I tell her. Summer heaves a huge, martyred sigh.
“Fiiiine.” She draws the word out, making it a long, tortured groan.
I know she’s one grade behind where she’s supposed to be, though, so it is what it is. Homework will happen today. I’ll just try to make it fun and entertaining and incentivize it with bribes.
Children are swarming around us now, poking and prodding at Paxton.
“I told you I was friends with a sports star!” Summer loudly announces. She glares at a kid. “So suck it, Harold.”
Harold, a chubby little blond boy, makes a face at her.
