Page 25 of Biggest Player
It’s a touchy spot to be in, except I don’t sympathize. She misrepresented herself the same way she thinks I did. Unlike in her profile, she has that ankle thing on and also clearly comes off as a gold digger, only interested in a relationship for clout.
“Hey, Dad, did you order that rat for me yet?” she loudly asks.
“Rat?” Madisson’s eyes go wide.
“Yeah. I love rats so much. My last one got loose in the house, and now he’s living in the wall, so Dad said he’d buy me a new one.” She lets out a long, loud sigh, then boasts, “Our house has a reptile room. One of mymanybrothers has a snake collection.”
“Snakes?”
Wyatt nods enthusiastically. “Do you like snakes? Ricky has some big ones.” She laughs. “Bob is my favorite—except for the times he escapes and gets into my bed. He loves beds.”
My date shakes her head. “No. I don’t like snakes.”
“That’s too bad. Dad lets us keep some of the aquariums in the living room.”
I am genuinely amazed at the words coming out of this kid’s mouth—and dare I say she is one of the best improv artists of her generation.
Give this kid an Oscar!
For real.
I am so impressed with her performance I’m tempted to slip her another hundred bucks.
My lips part, ready to reply to her snake comment, when a gasp has my attention.
“Wyatt Hazel St. John! I was about to send out a search party for you.”
A woman who can only be identified as Wyatt’s mother is standing next to the table, her hands going to my fake daughter’s shoulders.
“I am so sorry.” The woman begins her apology tour.
Stops speaking.
Stares me dead in the eyes as if she can see into my black soul, as if she knows me.
And this is where it all starts making sense, my friends—this is where it all catches up to me, shit hitting the fan as my sweaty brain zips along a mile a minute, details clicking into place. Click.
Click.
Click.
Now you know the full story of how we got here, so can we all chill the fuck out and move on?
Yeah.That’s what I thought.
“You.” She’s glaring at me harder than anyone has ever glared. “What are you doing with my daughter?”
“Mom,” Wyatt begins. “Why didn’t you tell me Dad was going to be here tonight? You know I wanted to show him the rash on my arm.”
Oh shit.The kid is method acting, caught up in the little drama she’s spun out of her ass.
The woman looks understandably confused, but before she can say another word, my date cuts in.
“Jesus. Is this your ex-wife?”
Wyatt nods. “One of them.”
Her mother looks back and forth from me to Madisson, to me to Madisson, to—
