Page 24 of I Won't Be In On Monday

I don’t have the heart to tell her that it’s my keys she felt pressed against her. I’m softer than a ripe tomato. Nothing about her is turning me on, but I don't want to be rude.

"You have a good trip," I say.

She heads back to the elevator, and Canyon and I give her a small wave before she steps in. As she leaves and goes down back to the lobby, I look over at Canyon.

"I guess it's just you and me, kid."

Canyon nods slightly and stares at me before looking around the office. I watch as she pulls her hair up in a ponytail and crosses her arms. "I want a hundred dollars," she says, and I frown slightly.

"Sorry. What?"

"I want a hundred dollars. All my friends' dads give them money, and I want one hundred dollars."

I look down at my daughter who, just moments ago, had a soft, cutesy voice and an innocent little smile.

"I'm sorry. I'm not quite sure I'm understanding you, Canyon."

"I said I want a hundred dollars. I want to go to the toy store. Take me to the toy store."

"You just said that you wanted a burger, fries, and milkshake, and..."

"I want sushi," she says. "Like spider roll and sashimi."

"Sashimi?" I raise an eyebrow. "You eat sashimi?"

"Uh, duh." She grins. "You're rich, right, dad? That's what Mom said."

"Um, wait, what is going on here?" I stare at her in absolute confusion.

"I am seven years old and will be eight soon, and you’re my dad. We have each other’s eyes, and I want a hundred dollars and sushi."

"What about the burger and fries?"

"I don't really like burgers that much, but I love sushi. I love tuna and salmon and caviar."

"Caviar? You've had caviar?"

"Yeah." She grins. "What? Don't tell me you haven't had caviar."

"But you're seven."

"And I live in New York. My grandma says I'm a very mature seven. Remember, I'm nearly eight. So, are we going to get out of here, or what?"

I stare at her. "What is going on here?"

"What do you mean?" she says, twirling around. “Oh, didn’t I tell you? I want to be an actress when I grow up.”

“But you’re seven.”

“Yeah, but I can play Annie. Sure, I don't have red hair, but I can put on a wig, and then I can sing all the songs. ‘Tomorrow,’" she belts out and grins at me. "You look like you're going to be sick," she says. "Are you not feeling well?"

"I think that I'm just a little bit taken aback by..." Is my daughter a psychopath?

"By what?" She grins. "Don't worry. Just because I don't want a burger doesn't mean I don't love you, and it doesn't mean that I didn't ask Santa Claus for you. I truly did. I mean, I asked for a daddy and I asked

for a million dollars. Hopefully, now, I'll get both." She pauses, her lower lip trembling. "I always wanted a daddy. I just don't understand why you didn't want me."

Chapter Seven

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