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When we arrived at the dance, about twenty-five little girls were hopping around the dance floor while various men lingered around the edges, forcing themselves to talk to each other. Some of these dudes had tuxedos on. I might have been underdressed. Good call on the flower, though. Not a single girl didn’t have some kind of flower pinned to her or around her wrist.
I knelt down and whispered in Kiki’s ear, “Where’s the bratty bully?”
She looked around. “I don’t see her yet.”
“Point her out to me when you do. I’ll give her and her father the stink eye.”
A few minutes later, Kiki and I were minding our business by the punch bowl when I heard a little voice from behind us.
“Did you rent a dad for the night?”
I turned around to find a brown-haired girl, who I could only assume was the little Cruella Deville.
Kiki’s face turned red as she looked up at me. “He’s not a dad,” she said. “He’s my boyfriend.”
I winced. Um…what the fuck?
The girl’s eyes widened. “Your boyfriend?”
Kiki nodded. “Ye—”
Grabbing her arm, I pulled her aside. “Kiki, you can’t say I’m your boyfriend.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s not appropriate. If someone believed you, I could get arrested.”
“I’m sorry. It just came out.”
“I know. She had you all tripped up. You can say I am anything else, just not your boyfriend, okay?”
She nodded. “Okay.”
“I lied,” she told the girl when we returned to our spot by the punch bowl. “He’s not my boyfriend.” She paused. “He’s my aunt’s boy toy.”
I snorted. Jesus. She’d definitely taken me up on my offer to call me anything else.
“What’s a boy toy?” the girl asked.
“It’s a guy who comes over a lot, and then one day you don’t see him ever again,” Kiki answered matter-of-factly.
Shit.
“If he’s not your dad, why is he here? This is for dads and daughters.”
Not even a minute into meeting her, and this girl had already gotten on my last nerve.
I couldn’t help but yell, “Who died and made you the daddy-daughter dance police?”
The girl blinked in confusion.
“Everything okay over here?” A man who I presumed was her father interrupted our conversation and began to size me up. “Troy Serrano?”
It took me a second to recognize him.
Christ. No wonder she’s an asshole. “Albie Cummings. It’s been a long time.”
Albie was the older brother of my first girlfriend in junior high school, Larissa Cummings. He’d made my life miserable back then, bullying and threatening me until I eventually stopped seeing her. I should’ve known I might run into someone I knew here. Meadowbrook isn’t all that big of a place.
He glanced down at Kiki. “This is your daughter?”
“No. She’s my girlfriend’s niece. I’m accompanying her tonight.”
My use of the term girlfriend to describe Aspyn wasn’t lost on me. It had come out naturally and felt right, given the current state of our relationship—even if I hadn’t told her I saw her that way.
“He’s her aunt’s boy toy.” The girl giggled.
He narrowed his eyes. “Oh. That makes more sense.”
My fists tightened, but rather than respond, I reminded myself that this was Kiki’s night. I needed to cool my jets.
I nodded. “Good seeing you.” Placing my hand on Kiki’s back, I said, “Come on, Kiki. Let’s check out the photo booth.”
As we walked away, she said, “You know Maisy’s dad?”
“Yup. And let’s just say the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. The reason that girl is a jerk is because she learned how to be one from her father. He used to bully me just like she bullies you.”
To my surprise, Kiki looked like she was about to cry. “I think I want to go home.”
I knelt so I was eye level with her. “What do you mean? We just got here.”
Kiki looked around the room. “I don’t want to be here anymore.”
“I don’t understand. You were so insistent about coming and proving that girl couldn’t get to you. What happened?”
She shrugged. “She got to me.”
I put my hands on her shoulders. “Kiki, you deserve to be here just as much as anyone else. Don’t let her get to you. People like that, they feel better when they put others down because it makes them feel better about themselves. Usually if you look deeper, there’s a reason behind their behavior, and it has nothing to do with the person they’re targeting. I promise that as you get older, you’ll understand that better.” I looked out at the dance floor. “We can’t leave. We haven’t even danced yet—or gotten our picture taken in the booth.”
How could I look Aspyn in the eye if I let Kiki go home all sad? There was no way I was bringing this kid back feeling worse than when she left.
“I don’t know how to dance,” she said.
“Sure, you do. You just move to the rhythm of the music and don’t think about it too much.”
