Page 81 of Play Book

“I don’t know. What do you think is fair? Fifty dollars a week?”

She scowls. “I want a new hair straightener too. And it’s like eighty.”

“Then I guess you’ll have to save up.”

She slinks down in the seat with a huff.

I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing, but I can’t let her think I’m an endless money supply. I have plenty, but there has to be a limit, right? Is it too soon to impose limits? Should I be more generous while she’s grieving and adjusting to a slew of new conditions in her life? She’s still so angry. I don’t want to add more stress to her life, but I also can’t let her think I won’t ever say no.

We stop at the store she wants to go to, and I follow her around as she looks at what has to be every lip gloss ever made, carefully reading ingredients and whatever else she needs to know before finally deciding on the one she originally wanted. Then we head over to the tools, and she looks at blow dryers, curling irons, and things I don’t even recognize.

“Ohhh.” Her eyes get big. “This is the mack daddy of blow dryers.”

It better be for three hundred and fifty dollars.

How does a blow dryer cost that much?

“Does it wash and style it for you too?” I ask dryly.

She rolls her eyes. “Don’t be a dork. It keeps your hair from frizzing…” She goes into intricate detail how an ionic something or other helps with frizz and a bunch of other stuff I don’t care about.

But she cares.

And she’s excited.

Something that hasn’t happened since she moved in with me.

We’re definitely not getting something that expensive today, but maybe for her birthday, which is coming up. I surreptitiously take a picture of it, so I don’t forget which one it is as she picks up a flat iron that’s on sale for sixty-nine dollars. I see her mentally calculating how long it’ll be before she has enough money. Probably because it’s only on sale this week. Two weeks from now, it goes back to ninety-nine dollars.

Fuck.

I’m going to buy it for her because… she just lost her mom.

Because I can afford it.

Because I fucking want her to like me.

“Let’s get that too,” I say, picking a box up off the shelf. “But we need to get going.”

“Really?” Her eyes light up. “Thank you!”

She practically dances to the checkout counter and clutches the bag tightly against her chest as we’re leaving.

“Look! Kittens.” There’s a pet store next door and they have some kind of adoption event going on.

“We’re not getting a cat,” I say, following her impatiently.

“Oh, look at how beautiful he is!” she says, pointing to what appears to be an orange Tabby with blue eyes.

The kitten seems fascinated with Ally, slowly sniffing her fingers through the bars of the cage she’s in.

“You want to hold her?” someone who works there asks.

“No,” I say.

“Yes!” Ally squeals at the same time.

Fuck me.

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