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“Ew gross. Well, sorry. No kids allowed. I’ll just give you more notice next time so you can get away from all that and live the night up with me. We’d have so much fun together, Olive.”
I happen to like kids more than I like Katie, but instead of snapping at her remark like a mom would, I take a deep breath and agree, even though I fully intend on having another excuse up my sleeve. I’ve used the kid excuse with this woman a dozen times now, and she’s asked zero follow-up questions.
“The best time ever. Maybe next time.”
Katie seems to like my answer and quickly has to hang up, so I head back to Fitzy and my coffee. Taking a sip, I look around the shop from my oversized black velvet chair. I’ve poured my gothic spirit all over every surface of this place for the past five years, after leaving my position at the university library. Since then, I’ve hoped and dreamed of making this place mine. I’m still short on savings, but I have faith I can talk Katie into selling to me when the time comes. Her grandmother was my mentor, but when she passed suddenly, the store went to next of kin. Luckily, she might not be interested in anything about the place but loves bragging about owning it, so my job is safe.
I have two part-timers to help with inventory and cleaning the cobwebs. I didn’t add myself, but it’s usually just me. I’m starting to feel like I’ve built this place for someone else. No matter how hard I work, or the fact I alone brought this store out of the red, Katie doesn’t care. This place could consistently be in the red and it wouldn’t matter; she would just float the cash.
“Don’t let her get to you. We all know who runs the show around here. It’s your place, Olive. She just likes to give you money, so let her.”
Fitzy was friends with Maybell, the former owner, and therefore knows Katie better than I do. She also promised to never tell her I don’t have a kid and lied to get out of socializing.
“You know, one of these days, Katie will invite this fictional child of yours, and then what?”
“Easy. I’ll go jump off a bridge.”
She laughs at my sick humor, her borrowed Jack Skellington mug in the air as if to say,
"Touché.”
I wave to Whitney when she comes in and heads to the fantasy section. Luckily, I know her and don’t have to go help answer any stupid questions like, “Why is it so dark in here?” or “Don’t you have anything other than romance and poetry?” Yes, go look and stop drinking all my coffee.
Fitz is right. I shouldn’t work with people. One of these days, I’m going to snap at a Karen and lose my job. Until then, I’ll be thankful for quiet days like today.
CHAPTERTWO
Leo
“I’ll pick you up after school tomorrow, and we can get ice cream. Maybe see a movie. What do you say?” I ask my daughter as she flies out of the car, eager to get back to her mom’s house.
“I’d rather read the story, then watch it. Thanks anyway.”
Boom. The door closes, and I have no time left to tell her I love her and would take her anywhere, if she would just spend some time with me. Frustration creeps into my muscles, but I pull away from the curb with a sigh. There’s got to be a handbook on teenage girls by now.
Never in my life have I ever had trouble with women. When I was a teen, girls begged me for attention. Now, I guess I’m reaping the karma of all the unintended broken hearts.
I’m not a player by any stretch, but my natural charisma has come in handy from a young age. Usually, I’m thankful for the job, opportunity, or free drinks. Maybe a night here or there, where I’ve taken a woman to bed, but since I agreed to have Penelope, she’s been the center of my everything. Dating is fun, but nothing serious ever sounded appealing. How do you explain the strange dynamics of our family to a complete stranger?
Somewhere over the years, though, my girl started pulling away and now wants to be a woman. At fucking thirteen. How the hell do dads deal with this?
I’m still deep in thought as I walk through the corridor of Fitzpatrick Place.
“Drink, dear?” My lovely landlady sits in her cheetah pants and fluffy pink cardigan, a Halloween mug in hand, seemingly reading by the pool as I walk by.
“Afraid I need more than that this morning, Fitz.”
I take the seat next to her, lying back on the lounger and looking to the glass ceiling for all the right answers.
“Why so down, son?”
“My daughter doesn’t think I’m cool anymore.”
“Oh, that’s just a phase. Penelope is finding herself at this age, and her body is changing.”
I make a gagging sound, jumping up out of my seat.
“Nope. Please stop…lalalalala. Can’t hear anything. Sorry, got to go wash my hair.”
