Page 22 of Playing to Win

She giggles and I swear, my life may not have panned out the way I would have liked, but if there’s one thing I am proud of, it’s this girl.

We window-shop with take-out drinks. I get the lowdown on what’s hot and what’s not when you’re eighteen these days. I’m lucky enough to get to sit on a chair in Abercrombie & Fitch and wait for Cady to try things on. Two young men with pecs and tans give me peculiar looks. A couple of girls, younger than Cady, bat their eyelids at me.

“Cady, are you done? I need to get out of here before I’m arrested.”

She comes swinging out from behind a red curtain, carrying two check shirts across her arm. “Do you want those?” I ask.

“Yes, but I have money.”

Those five words thrill me. She knows the value of money. That’s something I want her to know and I’m not sure many kids do these days. I take the shirts from her. “Since you didn’t ask, I’ll get these.”

When we’re paid up, Cady swings her bag as she walks. She seems to have grown happier since we were last together and I decide not to bring up the older boyfriend or underage drinking again. Not this time. Something tells me my girl could just use some love today.

“Ooh, could we pop into Barnes & Noble? Then I’m going to have to love and leave you because Meghan is on her way.”

“Sure, kiddo. What are you doing with Meghan anyway?” I hold open the door to Barnes & Noble for her to walk in ahead of me.

“Just going to grab some food, and maybe a movie.”

I can live with that. Cady takes off ahead of me and I’m left alone, doing a double take when I catch a face I recognize pinned to a sign by the cashier’s desk.

IZZY COULTHARD

AUTHOR OF BE GREEN. BE CLEAN.

SIGNING, TODAY, 5:30 P.M.

I check my watch as an irrational sense of panic makes my insides judder. She must be here now. Thumping my chest in a King Kong–esque way to kill the erratic beat beneath, I head in search of Cady.

Not seeing her on the ground floor, I move upstairs. At the far end of the store, next to the café, I spot Izzy. She’s alone, sitting behind a table, with her phone in her hand and a stack of her books at her side. Her head is down and she seems to sigh as her fingers move across her cell screen.

My stomach seems to become weightless. She’s an ass, I know. A beautiful ass but still a self-important ass. But her conversation with Kerry today, the way she stood, defeated, and now, seeing her alone at the table, I don’t know, maybe it melts my iron heart or something.

I don’t know how long I stand there watching her, hoping someone will take a book to her and ask her to sign it. I contemplate going myself, but she’s more likely to think I’m gloating than genuinely asking her to sign a book I’ll never read.

As if she senses me gawking, she raises her head. I panic, shuffling right, then darting left behind a shelf of books. I pin my back to the shelf, panting, as if I’ve just run a record time in the New York Marathon.

“Dad, what are you doing?”

I roll my head to the right and see Cady. My eyes quickly follow hers to the label on the shelf in front of her. “Erotic romance!”

“Dad, shut up. Jesus!”

I’m at her side in a flash and see the Fifty Shades trilogy in her hands. She needn’t know I’ve actually read the thing. No one needs to know that. But in light of the fact I have read it… “No way!” I take the books from her hands and plant them back on the shelf.

“I’m not five, Dad. I do know what sex is.”

Christ. “And if some boy sees you reading that stuff, he’s going to think it’s an open invitation to take a flogger to your ass. Let’s go.”

“Oh my God. How do you even know what a flogger is?”

Am I allowed to laugh in this situation?

“Out. Now.” I turn her by the shoulders and fight my smirk behind her back as I guide her down the staircase and out to the street.

“Oh, Meghan’s there. See you, Dad.”

Just like that, I’m abandoned on Fifth Avenue, my face uncharacteristically burning red for more than one reason.

I take out my cell phone and dial Sarah.

“Hey, you!” she answers. “What’s up?”

“Hey, Sarah. Could you do me a favor?”

“Name it.”

“Could you maybe round up a few friends and head to Barnes & Noble on Fifth Avenue? The, ah, salsa guru you like has a signing there. I…I don’t even know why I’m asking but could you go get a book signed? I’ll buy it. Get one for Becky and Madge too. Or, better, take them if they can get here like, yesterday.”

“Uh, I’m going to ask you more about this later but sure, I can do that.”

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