Page 114 of Don't Call Me Daddy
“Well, maybe you’re right. I guess I never thought about it like that. You know, you remind me of someone I cared about very much.”
“You don’t care about them anymore?” she asks.
“No, I do … but she’s gone now, so I only have my memories of her.” I tap my finger on my temple, and the little girl’s eyes widen in understanding.
“You can still talk to her though,” she says like it’s obvious. “That’s just pretend stuff anyway. You just have to hold your breath like this …” She sucks in a breath and crosses her fingers and then lets it out in a gasp. “And you think really hard in your head, and then if you are good and pray the right things, you can talk to her in your heart.”
I laugh. “Oh, well then, if it’s that easy, I’ll have to try it.”
Her mom ruffles her hair again. “Violet has quite the imagination …” She looks at me for a little longer than comfortable and says, “But she’s not entirely wrong.”
She takes her daughter’s hand, and then they’re gone, disappearing into the crowd that’s seemed to grow exponentially in the short time of our conversation.
I find myself playing back what she said, about talking to my sister in my heart. What an odd, extremely descriptive thing to say. Honestly, it sounds like some shit my sister would’ve said … which is why I actually find myself wondering if that’s what I’ve been doing all along.
“Hey, Ivy, we’ve got an issue over here at the petting zoo. Someone left the gate open, and there’s a pony out on the loose somewhere,” a male voice says over my walkie-talkie.
I pinch the bridge of my nose and sigh. “All right, I’ll be right there. Call Andie over at the face-painting station and tell her to section off the area until we find the pony. Surely, it couldn’t have gone too far.”
“Roger that.”
“James, can you send out a call, asking everyone to keep their eyes out for a runaway pony? Keep it discreet. I don’t need the guests panicking. The gates have been open for less than an hour. You remember the codes we came up with?”
“Yes, ma’am. Can’t say I ever thought we’d need ’em, but you really thought of everything, didn’t ya, Miss Ivy.”
I throw my backpack on and sigh. “We’ll see about that. It’s only eight thirty. We’ve still got all day … anything could happen.”
“Don’t I know it?” James laughs.
Five hours later, I’m icing a goose egg on my forehead with a snow cone as sticky blue syrup drips down my arm.
After I left to find the missing pony, I got another SOS call about the jumpy house deflating. Apparently, the teenager running it didn’t pay attention and forgot to make sure everyone took off their shoes before getting inside. One tiny cowboy later, and the whole thing was caving in. It took five of us to get all the kids out. Luckily, no one was hurt, but there went our security deposit.
We found the pony after following the screams of a disgruntled vendor, who discovered it eating apples out of the bobbing-for-apples trough. The woman’s scream startled the poor pony, which took off into a run, barreling straight through a row of porta-potties. Needless to say, we had some very unhappy guests who fell victim.
Thank God it was still early enough that they were mostly empty … not clean enough, however …
And to make matters worse, there was a hiccup with the trailer for Frank’s big surprise float during the parade. It’s only the biggest event of the entire festival, where Frank Kingsley—dressed as the king of the Phantom Festival—will pass the throne to Leo, officially naming him CEO and the new headsponsor of the event. Leo was the closest one to the float, so he took the lead on finding a last-minute replacement part.
Which means I got to lure the terrified pony across the festival solo. Everything seemed to be going fine until a dog broke free of its leash and came charging toward us out of nowhere, barking. Naturally, the pony got startled when the dog nipped its ankle, resulting in me getting kicked at. I barely managed to escape, hitting my head in the process. Don’t worry; the dog was perfectly fine—and the pony ran off. At least it ran in the right direction this time. They were able to get it back in the trailer to calm down.
“Hey, Ivy. Can you stop by the stage when you get a minute? The band’s out here, saying something about needing a beer keg to perform,” Luka says over the walkie-talkie.
“There was a keg delivered this morning. I signed for it myself,” I answer.
“Yeah … he’s saying it’s not cold enough or something. I offered him some ice, but he called me a lazy, good-for-nothin’ pretty boy and said I was too young to know how beer’s supposed to taste …”
“Aren’t you, like, twenty-five?”
“Twenty-six actually,” he adds. “That’s what I told him, but he said I was lying. I can’t help it that I got good genetics and the skin of a young child.”
I laugh for the first time all day at the absurdity of it all. “Tell him I’ll be right there.”
“Ten-four. Oh, and if you’re close … don’t go out of your way or anything … could you grab me and Guy a corn dog? Extra mustard and ketchup packets, please.”
I look up at the lemonade stand in front of me. “Sure thing. How about a lemonade to go with it?”
“You’re the best fake future sister-in-law a guy could ask for,” Luka says in a teasing tone.
