Page 88 of Worst Nanny Ever
Sophie cringes. “His tropical IPA obsession might be my fault.”
She’d famously tossed back some of his tropical IPA and then informed him that Buchanan Brewery’s was better. Briar’s dad is nothing if not competitive.
“At least the staff will be happy when you take over,” Sophie adds. “You’ll be an amazing boss.”
“We’ll see,” Briar says with another sigh. “I’m a little nervous about the transition. I couldn’t manage a single staff member with the jewelry business. How am I supposed to run a whole brewery?”
“Can we do something fun?” Ollie asks. “This isn’t really a kid conversation.”
I wrap him in a hug before releasing him. “More turtles?”
“Nah, how about we play with some of the toys you and Travis got yesterday?”
I laugh. “How’d you know about that, you little gremlin?”
“Travis isn’t nearly as good at hiding things as he thinks he is.”
I’m not so sure I agree with that. I looked and found nothing, but I guess I wasn’t very strategic about my snooping.
“Do you have painting supplies?” Sophie says. “What if we paint turtles?”
“Yeah!” Ollie says. “Maybe I’ll give mine to Mickey. Hannah thinks we won’t hate each other so much if we can talkabout the mutant turtles. I don’t know if it’ll work, but I’m willing to try for the sake of peace.”
I ruffle his hair, feeling my heart expand, as if it’s growing around him. “That’s because you’re a good kid. A real A-plus child over here.”
My phone buzzes again.
“Hannah,” Ollie groans. “Pleasedon’t look at that. People can get addicted to their devices, you know. That’s what Travis told me. I don’t want you to have an addiction, Hannah. They’re really bad. You might have to go to a halfway house.”
I frown at him. “What have you been reading?”
“You’re the one who gave it to me.”
Oops. I found some middle-grade-looking books in the Little Free Library in my building and brought them over.
“I’m going to ungive it to you. Don’t worry about the phone, though. I’m not going to be glued to it. I just have to make sure it’s not the stalker.”
I check the screen and see that itisAlice.
The first thing she sent is a photo of the crowd at New Belgium Brewery gathered around the outdoor stage. Right near the front, there’s a group of women of variable ages wearing sexy sailor dresses totally inadequate for the chilly November air, carrying signs that sayRip It, Baby ShipsandI Ship Ships Junior.
It’s followed by a long text:
We didn’t do this, Hannah. I have no idea where these other fans came from, but they’re VERY disrespectful. One of them just threw her unmentionables at Travis, and they got caught on his cymbal. He had to remove them with a drumstick. We’ll try to encircle them to contain the problem, but I wanted you to know that we played no part in this disaster.
I’m still furious with Travis, but I care about him, and I know what this must be doing to him. They’re ripping him apart. Making him feel like that little kid again, lost and in need of control. A commodity to be packaged and used.
“Just a second, Ollie,” I say. “Your dad is a damsel in distress.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
TRAVIS
It’s a chilly day, but sweat drips down my neck as the group near the front of the crowd starts up a chant: “Ships, Ships, Ships Ahoy!”
It’s like they stepped out of a nightmare. Six of them are in sailor dresses. A couple of these women are older, maybe in their sixties, probably fans of the original movies when they aired. All of them have their hair in pigtails. Maybe it’s my imagination, but one of the older women looks like she has aShips Ahoy–themed tattoo sleeve. My father seems to be winking at me from her arm, promising me I can never move beyond his legacy.
Why are they here? When I checked the forum this morning, the post I’d asked the moderator to remove was gone. I assume the woman from the toy shop took my message to heart, too, because she’s not with them.
