Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 99017 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99017 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
If only the thought of getting under anyone but Dean didn’t make me want to throw up in my mouth.
I wipe, flush, and wash my hands, cursing my stupid heart and stupider vagina the entire time. Then, I head back to the family area, still not sure what to do.
Should I fake a headache and make a run for it?
Sneak out the side door and text my apologies to Dean and the girls from the bus? Buy one of those crop top Voodoo jerseys they were selling at the merch stand on the way in, resuscitate my curls with spray from my purse, slap on some lipstick, and pretend I’m a normal twenty-something for the night?
I don’t know.
But I don’t head for the exit.
I keep walking, back down the hall to the room where that Zaddy Dawn has her eye on is waiting to drive me across town.
Fourteen
DEAN
The drive to Packy’s feels strained for some reason—Clover directs most of her conversation to the girls in the back seat, and rarely makes eye contact with me, but I tell myself it’ll be fine.
She’ll have a good time once we get there.
I didn’t bully her into attending my party…did I?
I just wanted her to enjoy the night, have a little time off, cut loose, be young. I just wanted her to…
I don’t know.
I don’t know what I wanted her to do, but I know I probably can’t encourage it. Whatever it is.
So, when she grabs her purse and swings out of the truck the second we get to Packy’s, saying, “I’m going to run ahead and change, okay? I want to freshen up before I join the grown-up fun,” I simply nod and wave, promising, “Okay, we’ll see you inside.”
We will see her inside, and it will be fine. Better than fine.
I intend to have a good time tonight. I loathe a cheesy kiddie arcade as much as the next parent, but this isn’t that.
Packy’s is three stories of polished industrial brick and tasteful neon that feels more like a boutique hotel than a family fun center. Their beer selection is on point, the cocktails are creative, and the food is actually good.
A fact I’m reminded of as we step through the door into the wood-fired-pizza-scented air…
Ava hums beside me, clinging tighter to my hand as she inhales. “Yummy. Their pizza always smells so yummy, Daddy.”
“It really does,” I agree.
“I think I’m hungry for real food, too,” she adds. “I think I need pizza dinner before cotton candy.”
“Me, too,” Bella chirps from my other side.
“Me, three,” I say, making them grin. “How about I order us an extra cheesy pizza with pepperoni and mushrooms while you two play on the playground until it’s ready?”
They cheer the brilliance of this idea before racing off to join the other kids already swarming the climbing structure and slides in the widest portion of the main floor.
Even the playground is an elevated experience here, a sprawling warren of interconnected tunnels and nets that looks more like a modern art installation than a playground. It anchors the first-floor kiddie zone, surrounded by Packy audio-animatronics that dispense “elephant wisdom” for a quarter, a carousel, and typical carnival-type games.
Above, the mezzanine bar is perfectly positioned to give parents a clear view of their kids, while providing a buffer from the chaos. The final, upper floor houses the stage, dance floor, and vintage pinball machines, as well as the “fast track” elevator down to the bowling alley and adult video games in the basement.
The designer arranged to keep all the loud, blaring shit contained in the soundproof basement so you can actually hear the music, and I couldn’t be happier. It sounds like it’s an ‘80s night tonight, practically guaranteeing good vibes.
It’s impossible to be sad while listening to ‘80s music. I love the ‘90s grunge of my childhood, but when the world’s getting me down, I go straight to my ‘80s playlist.
I’ve been listening to a lot of Boston, Wham!, and Cyndi Lauper lately, but I’m okay with it. We do what we have to do to get by, and it could be worse. I could blast Rage Against the Machine when I’m in the dumps like my mother.
For someone raised in the seventies, the woman has an unexpectedly hardcore taste in music…
“Dean! Up here!” Parker calls from the mezzanine. “We’ve got a pitcher, but we’re waiting to pour until we can toast you, old man.”
“So, hurry up before the beer gets hot,” Nix adds.
I join them, placing an order for a large pizza, garlic bread, and a carrot slaw salad in a nod to good nutrition, before lifting my glass.
“To eleven hundred more,” Nix says, making us all laugh.
“Hell no.” I grin as I clink my glass against my teammates’. “But I’ll take another hundred or so. I’ve still got some fight left in me.”