Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 138072 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 690(@200wpm)___ 552(@250wpm)___ 460(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138072 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 690(@200wpm)___ 552(@250wpm)___ 460(@300wpm)
“Did he?” Kennedy asks. “Smart man.”
“And you, too,” she says. “He says you’re the beautifulest woman in all the world.”
Damn. She ratted me out.
Kennedy seems taken aback.
“Well, that was nice of him,” Kennedy says. “I have to get going. You have fun, okay? And be good.”
“I will.”
She kisses the top of Madison’s head. “Love you more than Saturday mornings.”
“Love you, too,” Madison says, “more than even costumes and them other things.”
Madison grabs my hand.
“I’ll bring her back tonight,” I say, “fingers and toes still attached.”
Kennedy won’t look at me. I can tell she’s anxious, so I don’t linger, leading Madison outside. The town car is idling in the parking lot, the driver leaning against it as he waits. He smiles when we approach and opens the back door, but Madison drags her feet.
“Is he your friend?” she asks, looking at me.
“Why?”
“Grandpa says not to get in cars with strangers.”
“Oh, yeah, I know him,” I say. “He’s safe.”
She climbs into the car, and I buckle her into a booster seat as I sit beside her. As the car pulls away, I see Kennedy watching us from the front door of the apartment.
Madison chatters the entire drive to the convention center, telling stories, and I listen dutifully. She’s bursting with excitement by the time we arrive, but I’m somewhere on edge. While I was promised discretion, confidentiality agreements tossed around like candy at a parade, I know things don’t always go according to plan.
The car takes us straight to the back entrance, past the awaiting crowds. A woman meets us in an attached garage, one of the event coordinators, along with a small security detail. She smiles when we get out of the car. “Mr. Cunning! And Miss, uh…”
Madison grins. “Maddie!”
“Miss Maddie,” the woman says. “I’m so honored you could join us. My name is…”
Blah. Blah. Blah.
She launches into the spiel. It’s expected. Always happens. I vaguely listen as she babbles on about the company’s history, their record-breaking turnouts, laying the groundwork for me signing onto something in the future. Madison grows impatient and starts fidgeting, so I hurry the woman along, getting our wristbands for admission like everyone else so we can blend into the crowd.
“Security will be posted all around,” she says. “They’ll be keeping a lookout, of course, but should you need any help, don’t be afraid to ask.”
The woman leaves, and security takes us up a private elevator, straight to the main floor, letting us out inside the hall. The crowd is streaming through, rushing to get wherever they’re going.
Panels. Trivia. Shopping. Autographs. The room is filled with booths, with comics, with artists, with writers and actors and cosplayers... the whole shebang. This isn’t my first convention, you know, but usually I’m the one people line up for.
“So, whatcha wanna do?” I ask Madison. “It’s up to you.”
She clings to my hand, staring at it all with wide eyes. “Everything.”
Everything. I laugh. “We can do that.”
We start small, just walking around, taking in what we can see. Maddie’s in awe, gawking at everyone in costume, and I think she might be intimidated by the crowd, but it doesn’t take her long to warm up to things. I steer her away from autographs, since a lot of those people actually know me. She drags me from booth to booth, from table to table, excitedly announcing everything she sees, not lingering any one place long enough for me to buy anything.
“Whoa,” she says, coming to a halt in front of one of those standees, a cardboard cutout of yours truly. “Look, Daddy! It’s you!”
Daddy. Crazy shit goes down in my chest when she calls me that. It’s the first time I’ve heard her say it. I blink at her, so astounded, so enamored, that it isn’t until she repeats herself and people look her direction that I realize what she’s saying.
“Daddy, it’s you!”
Shit. I pull her away from it and kneel down in front of her when she looks at me in confusion, like she doesn’t understand.
“That’s not me today,” I say. “I’m Knightmare, remember?”
Her brow furrows. “But it’s still you for real?”
“Of course, but today we have costumes so we can play make-believe,” I say. “So technically, that’s you today.”
Her expression lights up as she spins around, looking at the booth. “Can I have me?”
“Can you have... you?”
She nods, pointing at the standee.
“Oh, you actually want one of those.”
“Uh-huh.”
“It’s kind of big to be lugging around.”
“I can carry it!”
I smile at the mental image of her dragging one of those damn things around all afternoon. “It’s like three times your size.”
“I can do it.”
“I don’t doubt it,” I tell her. “How about we wait until the end of the day, after we do everything else, and if there’s still one here, we’ll take it with us.”
“ ’Kay.”
That was a heck of a lot easier than I expected it to be. I take her hand again as I glare at the standee. Please let them sell out of those fucking things.