Chapter 8
Garrett
“Which one do you want, my little coconut?” I held my daughter with one arm and gestured at the menu hanging outside on the wall of the ice cream parlor with the other. I read down the list, watching her face light up when I said certain flavors.
It was a short flight and a long, sharp talk with the Superintendent of Moses Thomas Elementary School. Their teachers were striking over salary disputes. Moses Thomas was the best elementary school in the state; I didn't like the idea of having to transfer Jackie somewhere else, especially after she finally started to make friends.
Friend, really. And that little girl only played with Jackie at school, never afterwards or on the weekends. Jackie didn't open up to many people. That was the long part of the talk. Even if the teachers hadn't started their protest, Jackie was in danger of being expelled for repeatedly lashing out in class and throwing tantrums.
Jackie's pediatric doctor recommended homeschooling, especially with the medication she was on. I couldn't do that to her. She needed to interact with kids her own age. It killed me to see Jackie acting out. She couldn't articulate it yet, but she'd been having a tough time since her mother—
“Black raspberry and... peanut butter!” Jackie threw her hands up, then followed that with a stern-toned, “With sprinkles.”
“Are you sure you don't want just one first?” I asked Jackie, then turning to my assistant; I asked if they fed her lunch. He told me they had, then walked a few feet away to answer a call.
“I only want one.” She gave me a confused look that made my heart melt. “I want half peanut butter and half black raspberry with sprinkles.”
I decided against explaining the finer points of how scoops work and just bought her both.
“What do you say?” I asked, handing her the cup that had both scoops, the cone and sprinkles.
“I want a cone not a cup!” Jackie pouted, crossing her arms.
I set her down, then put both scoops of ice cream into the cone and handed it to her. “Better?”
“I didn't want a cup.” Jackie refused to take the cone.
“We don't always get what we want, pumpkin. Sometimes we have to make compromises.” I crouched down before her and took a bite of the peanut butter scoop. It was tastier than I thought.
“Hey, that's mine! That's not fair!”
Nothing is, unfortunately. “If you want ice cream, you're going to say you're sorry.”
“It's Ms. Sullivan, sir.” Michael, my assistant, said over my shoulder. He was holding up his phone signaling that he had it on hold.
“Not now.” I told Michael, then turned back to my grumpy daughter. “What do you say, Queen Jaclyn? Ice cream or no ice cream?”
“Sorry.” She angrily reached for it, but I pulled it away before she could grab it. Then I raised my eyebrow and gave her a look she'd seen a hundred times. Finally she grumbled, “Please-and-thank-you.”
“Good girl.” I handed the ice cream cone back to her and stood up.
“Sir?” Michael asked, hesitantly. “Sorry, sir, but she's insistent and she sounds...upset.”
I felt bad for running out on her like that, but when it comes to my daughter everything else takes backseat. “Which one of my apologies did you give her?”
“I cycled through a few actually.”
This was probably for the best. I knew I wasn't going to invest in the stadium. Why drag it all out for any longer? I shouldn't have even entertained it in the first place. Three days to win me over? What kind of fairy-tale narrative was I trying to recreate?
Even if she was the girl I danced with, it didn't matter. She could never possibly live up to the version of her I fantasized about for so many years.
This was business, I reminded myself. I wasn't going to hit thirty billion by my thirtieth birthday by making stupid emotionally charged decisions.
“Amidst several other grievances, she mentioned a promise you made about a dance. I don't really know how to answer that, sir.”
I closed my eyes trying to clear the image I had of holding her, the scent of her perfume, and the warmth of her skin, but the darkness only made that moment more vivid in my mind.
“What's on my agenda for the next three days?” I asked, wiping my forehead and smoothing my short hair back. Jackie sat quietly on a bench beside me eating her ice cream. She'd knocked the black raspberry off the cone and was nudging it with her foot.
Between Jackie, her school, business and my own goals, so many things were going on right now. This was the worst time to go honor some promise I made to a complete stranger five years ago.
“Nothing that can't be moved around, sir.” Michael browsed my itinerary on his phone.
Goosebumps climbed up the back of my head.
I remembered the biggest moments in my life. The phone call I received from Minnesota asking me to play for them, getting the call that Heidi was going into labor, my first endorsement offer that led into a stock share with a future billion dollar company, and signing the contract for my first casino. Every single one of those moments sent goose bumps up my neck.
Would this be one of those life moments?
If I didn't at least see what Judy was like, I might regret it for the rest of my life.
“Prep the jet. Have three days-worth of clothes prepared for Jaclyn and me, and keep me informed of the strike at her school.” It would take a few days to get Jackie into a new school if I decided to go that route. Maybe a change in scenery would even do her some good.
“And Ms. Sullivan?” Michael busily took down my orders.
“Get a hold of my seamstress. Tell Tatiana I have a rush order for her.”
“Very good, sir. A new suit?” Michael asked.
“No.” I smiled softly remembering the tap of our shoes as she occasionally stepped on my feet. “It's not for me.”