by Parker, Ali
Elise came out of the apartment door. I leaned over, pushed open the passenger door of my car, and breathed in the scent of her floral perfume when she got in beside me.
She shot me a bright smile before twisting around in her seat to peer into the back at Roy. “Hi, Roy,” she said, a little breathless. She must have come down the stairs in a hurry. “I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m Elise.”
“Hi,” Roy said a little bashfully.
Elise smiled. “You look just like your dad. It’s uncanny.”
“People tell me that all the time,” Roy said.
“Because it’s true. Thank you for letting me come along with you and your dad today. I’m really excited. I haven’t been to the Thanksgiving Festival in, well, at least six years.”
“Six years?” Roy and I both asked in unison.
Elise nodded and looked back and forth between the two of us. “Yes. Why? Do the two of you go more often than that?”
“Every year,” I said.
Roy was nodding in the back seat. “Yeah. We get cider and cake and play games and win prizes.”
Elise grinned. “Sounds like fun.”
“It is,” I said. “So why the heck are we sitting around talking about it? Let’s go!”
The Thanksgiving Festival was set up in a park down by the beach. The amusement park side of things consumed the entire eastern side parking lot with its Ferris wheel, coasters, game booths, food trucks, and kiddie rides. The grassy park boasted booths selling jewelry, scarves, and all sorts of other accessories. Some sold candles and pottery, homemade perfumes and lotions, winter hats and gloves, mason jars filled with soup ingredients, Christmas tree ornaments, baked goodies, and so many other things. It was a consumer’s wet dream, and it happened every year just in time for Christmas shopping.
Elise walked through all the booths with mild interest. She never once asked us to stop so she could look at something. Even when I caught her peering over at something and offered to stop so she could look, she’d shake her head and insist we keep going.
“You know, Roy is a patient kid,” I said after the third or fourth time I caught her passing something she clearly thought was nice. “He’ll find something to do if you want to stop and look at a couple things,”
She shook her head. “No, it’s okay. Maybe next year after I make a fortune off this book.”
“All right. How about we go do some rides then? And get some of those sugar-coated funnel cakes. I’ve been thinking about them all morning.”
“Yeah!” Roy cried before rushing off and running like a wild child toward the entrance to the rides.
Elise smiled at me and slipped her hands in the pockets of her sweater. “Roy is a good kid, Dallas. He’s really clever. And sweet. And funny.”
“Like me?”
She laughed at me. “You wish.”
“He’s a good kid. I’m lucky.” I offered her my elbow as she stepped over the uneven grass. I was surprised when she slid her arm through mine. Having her this close was pleasant. Comfortable. Familiar.
We followed Roy through the gate and into the amusement park. He made a beeline to one of the spinning rides. It was a black octopus with a cage hanging off each tentacle. The cages would spin and twirl as the legs spun in a wide circle to chaotic carnival fair music.
Roy clung to the fence separating the public from the ride, and when we arrived, he looked up at us. His face was alight with excitement. “Can I go on this ride, Dad?”
“As long as you pass the height requirement,” I said.
We walked around the fence to the line. The three of us fell into step behind other families and teenagers waiting for their turn. We didn’t have to wait long before we made it to the front of the line. Roy was luckily two inches taller than the necessary height. It would have put a damper on the whole day if he hadn’t passed. Being shorter than almost all other kids his age was hard enough. He didn’t need to be reminded of it when we were out and about, trying to have fun.
The gate closed as the ride started. We would be getting on next.
As we watched everyone who was in line ahead of us get strapped in and prepared for the ride to start, Roy looked up at Elise. “Will you sit with me?”
Elise blinked. She looked positively horrified. “Oh. Um. I don’t really do rides, Roy. I’m sorry. I was going to watch over there. Maybe take some pictures so you can have them for later?”
Roy shook his head. “No! Come with me! It will be fun. I promise.”
Elise looked imploringly at me for help.
I laughed and held up my hands. “Don’t look at me. This is your call.”
Elise sighed and bit her bottom lip. Her shoulders slumped when she turned back to my son. “All right. But if I throw up, it’s your fault. Got it?”
Roy nodded.
The ride began.
Elise watched the machine from start to finish. She was wringing her hands by the time the ride operator opened the gate and let us through. I sat in one of the cages opposite Elise and Roy and watched them get buckled in. I heard her nervous giggle, and Roy assured her that it would all be fine.
She and I locked eyes.
“You all right over there, Billingsly?” I called.
She nodded. Her face was pale, and her knuckles were white as she gripped the bar sitting across her lap. She was so not all right. But she was playing it off like she was. I liked that.
I liked it a lot.
Chapter 18
Elise
Roy’s cheeks were bright pink as he stared up at me with a big grin. “Don’t be scared,” he said. “Rides are fun! And safe. Dad wouldn’t let me get on if it wasn’t safe.”
I forced my mouth into an appropriate smile. It felt more like a grimace. I did not do rides. Never did. I hated spinning and the sensation of falling, and the two were the definition of most rides. “Thank you, Roy. I know it’s safe.”
“Then why are you scared?”
Kids. They somehow managed to see things in such a simple way. I wished I could rationalize this with myself the way Roy was. “Rides have always scared me.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t like feeling like I’m not in control.”
Roy cocked his head to the side. “Not in control?”
The last couple got on the final empty cage on the opposite octopus tentacle from us. I watched the ride operator close the bar on their laps and walk over to the controls by the metal fence. People were gathered up along the edges to watch their children.
I was going to have to do my best not to scream like a little girl.
Roy took my hand and entwined his fingers with mine. “It’s a machine. He controls it.” He pointed at the ride operator. “And he’s an expert, as Dad would say. Don’t worry.”
I squeezed his hand. “You’re a smart kid, you know that?”
Roy nodded. “Dad tells me all the time.”
“Your dad is pretty smart, too,” I said.
I looked across from us at Dallas. His cage was angled away from us as the ride started to move. I wished I could see him. I was sure I would feel some comfort from that reassuring smile of his.
But then if I could see him, that would mean he could see me. And if I lost my composure on this damn thing, he’d never let me live it down. That, in itself, was motivation not to scream.
Our cage gave a great lurch as the ride picked up speed. It was only a matter of fifteen or so seconds before we were really racing around the base of the ride. I made sure not to squeeze Roy’s hand too tightly as he giggled with sheer delight beside me. We were both pressed to the outside of the cage by the momentum, and I was glad I had sat on the outside. Otherwise, I’d be crushing Dallas’s son.
The deal would most definitely be off the table then.
The legs of the octopus began rising and falling one after another. When ours shot upward, I let out a surprised shriek. Roy cried out with excitement and threw his free hand up. “It’s fun, Elise! See? Fun
!”
I distracted myself from my fear by watching Roy. He was bubbling over with joy. What a wonderful thing, to be a child. Every time the ride swung up, he would lift his feet from the metal-paneled floor. We would fall back down, and he’d push himself up off the seat a little bit in an effort to get as much thrill as possible.
I was certain Dallas had taught him that trick.
As the ride reached its peak intensity, I caught Dallas watching us from his cage. He was perfectly at ease, of course, sitting right in the middle of his seat with his hands resting on the bar across his thighs. He was smiling at us.
I wanted to wave, but I didn’t dare let go of Roy’s hand or the bar in front of me. I hung on for dear life until the ride slowed to a grinding halt. Then the bar lifted from our laps, and we were released from our cage.
The ground was a steady and wonderful thing beneath my feet.
Dallas met us at the gate and held it open for me and Roy. We walked through, and Dallas hung back to hold it for the rest of the people getting off the ride. Once everyone was through, he met up with us and playfully rubbed Roy’s head. “Was that fun?”
“Yes!”
Dallas winked at me. “I’m glad to see you made it through without having a heart attack.”
“Barely,” I breathed.
Dallas chuckled and extended his hand to Roy, who took it. “Let’s go get something to eat. I’m starving.”
“Funnel cakes?” Roy suggested.
“Funnel cakes.” Dallas nodded.
We walked through the park toward the section that was set up with food trucks and tents. It smelled like hot dogs, cotton candy, and in the far east corner, mini muffins. In other words, it smelled like sugar.
We had to line up single file and inch our way closer to the counter to order. Dallas insisted on buying, and he bought three of them. It wasn’t a long wait, and within minutes, we were wandering through the section of games while stuffing our faces with the tasty morsels.
Roy looked up at us. His cheeks were puffed out like a squirrel from the amount of cake in his mouth. “Can we play a game?” he mumbled.
I could barely understand what he was saying, but Dallas seemed able to interpret his words effortlessly. “Sure. You pick.”
Roy led us to a booth where you threw bean bags at a stack of pipes. Roy and I both failed miserably. I hadn’t been expecting to knock anything over. Roy was a bit disappointed when his last bean bag fell short of the pipes, and Dallas cheered him up by knocking all the pipes over with his last throw. Roy was able to pick a prize, and he opted for an obnoxious lime green and black-striped top hat that he wore as we walked through the other game booths.
Dallas was pulling out all the stops. We played every game Roy was interested in. I sucked at all of them, especially anything that involved throwing or tossing. Dallas seemed to excel at all of them, and I loved watching Roy watch his father. His idol. Their relationship was heartwarming, and if I was being honest with myself, it was changing my view on the man before me.
Dallas Jansen was not who I thought he was. He had changed. Grown. He had become a respectable man.
Dallas caught me watching him as he leaned over Roy and helped him aim a dart at a balloon wall at one of the booths. The young kid operating the booth was watching with a smirk. He was clearly confident Roy would miss.
Dallas showed Roy how to throw the dart and had Roy practice. “Move your feet a little farther apart,” Dallas said as he squared Roy’s little shoulders. “There you go. Yes. Like that. Now, close your eye. The other eye. Good. Aim higher than where you want your dart to go because it will arc through the air like this.” Dallas sailed his hand through the air in front of Roy.
Roy nodded. “Okay.”
“Don’t rush. Take your time. You have plenty of throws.”
I stood back and watched the father and son moment unfold. I knew I was smiling. I wanted to stop, but I couldn’t control the grin that was stretching my cheeks. The sight was just too good and pure to not enjoy it.
Dallas grinned at me. I blushed furiously and looked at my feet.
Roy let the dart fly. It arced, as Dallas said it would, but it didn’t make it to the back wall. Roy groaned and stomped his foot. “I suck at this!”
“No, you don’t, kiddo. Nobody is good at this the first time they try. Or the tenth. Or hundredth. It takes a lot of practice. Let’s try again.”
The kid working the booth sighed and blew his hair off his forehead. He folded his arms and looked lazily over at me. “You wanna throw some darts, lady?”
I shook my head. “No. Thank you.”
“Suit yourself.”
Dallas guided Roy into position again, and when the dart left Roy’s fingertips, I watched it sail through the air and puncture a hot pink balloon in the third row from the bottom.
Dallas threw his arms in the air and let out a victorious cry. Roy jumped up and down on the spot, clapping his hands together and giggling happily when Dallas scooped him up and spun around in a circle to celebrate.
The kid working the booth pulled the dart from the wall, grabbed a small stuffed toy, and handed it to Roy, who pulled it into his chest as Dallas put him back on the ground.
Then Roy came over to me.
“Good job, Roy!” I said excitedly. “That was amazing.”
“Thank you.” Roy smiled and stared down at the toy in his hands. It was a little stuffed dog with massive blue eyes. He held it up to me. “I won it for you.”
My heart melted. “You did?”
He nodded.
I took the toy and ran my thumbs over the soft fur. “Roy. That is so sweet of you. Thank you. I love it.”
“You’re welcome,” he said with a smile. Then he shot off in the opposite direction, yelling for us to follow him. He wanted to go on more rides.
Dallas waited for me, and we walked side by side after Roy, who only ran a little ways up ahead and then would turn back and wait for us to catch up. Dallas kept his eyes on his son the whole time.
“I see what you’re doing,” I said.
“What?”
“You’re using your son to get me to sign with Treo.”
He chuckled and slid his hands in his jean pockets. “So what if I am? Is it working?”
I pursed my lips as I stared down at the stuffed dog. “More than I want it to.”
Dallas grinned. “It’s hard to resist a kid with charm like Roy. I get it. It’s why he gets whatever he wants.”
“You’re a good dad, Dallas. Honestly.”
Dallas glanced over at me. All the mirth and playfulness disappeared in his eyes and was replaced with seriousness. “Thank you.”
We walked a bit in quiet. Roy got in line for a ride that spun in tight circles. I was not getting on that one. If I did, I’d be puking my guts out in no time. I told Dallas so, and he said he’d go on this one with Roy.
Before he went to join his son, I grabbed his wrist. “Dallas?”
“Yes?”
“What happened to Roy’s mom?”
Dallas stiffened. He recovered smoothly, but there was an edge to his voice that hadn’t been there before. “It’s not something I like to talk about.”
“I’m sorry. I understand. I just… No, it doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“It’s all right,” he said. But something was off. And it wasn’t all right.
I realized I was still holding his wrist and let go. I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear nervously and looked down at my feet. “I’m sorry,” I said again.
“Don’t be. Hey.” He reached out and placed two fingers under my chin, lifting my face to look me in the eye. The intimate touch had my body responding in inappropriate ways, like it had in my dream the other night. “It’s all right. Seriously.”
I nodded.
“You want to make it up to me?” he asked.
“How?”
“Come to a party at the Treo office tomorrow night. It’s a Thanksgiving t
hing. It’s a lot of fun. You can bring Kate.”
“Oh, Dallas. I don’t think that’s a good idea. I haven’t made my decision, and I don’t want people thinking I’m taking advantage of this royalty treatment.”
He shook his head. “Don’t worry about that. There will be a ton of people. They won’t think anything of it. Trust me. It’ll be fun. And you and Kate will blend right in. What do you say?”
I frowned, still unsure.
“Come on, Elise. You know you want to see what the office is like. It’s a perfect way to dip your toes in and get a feel for the place. I’ll stick with you the whole time.”
I licked my lips. “All right. Fine. But this doesn’t mean I’ve decided to sign.”
“Of course not. Now, hold my jacket, will you? I’m about to regret eating all that damn funnel cake. Don’t tell Roy, but I hate spinning rides too.”
Chapter 19
Dallas
The office Thanksgiving party was held every year in the conference room downstairs just off the lobby.
We called it the “conference room”, but that wasn’t quite accurate. It was more of an events room, perfectly set up to host a dance floor, stage, buffet, and nearly two dozen round tables where employees sat with their invited guests to enjoy their meal and drinks.
There was also an open bar against one wall, serving cocktails. A bottle of red and white wine sat on every table and was replaced by the catering staff whenever they were empty. White table cloths covered all the tables, with seat covers to match. Orange and red accents, along with a bit of gold, lent warmth to the otherwise cold room to emphasize the Thanksgiving theme.
I was walking around with a rum and coke, making small talk with my coworkers when Elijah arrived.
He was well dressed in a dark blue suit and a black button-up shirt underneath. He greeted me with a pat on the shoulder, and we went to the bar to get him a drink.
The bar was being manned by a blond-haired young guy with tattoos up both arms. His white shirt was rolled up to his elbows, showing off his ink, and his hair was slicked back off his forehead. Women had flocked around him to watch him toss martini shakers and perform a bit of flair bartending. I was impressed.