Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 77233 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77233 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
“The mothers?”
“And the kids. It’s a whole unit of responsibility, whether you’re with them or not.”
“O-kay.” I felt like a complete idiot, but still I suddenly realized I needed his help. “Then, Carmen should get this doll too. We have to stop by the store before we head to Paradise—”
“The store?” Anthony chuckled and shook his head. “Stores are sold out. Last month, shit was so crazy, parents were literally fighting over these dolls in stores. The shit blew up on Ping Bop.”
“What’s Ping Bop?”
“Oh.” Anthony shrugged. “You wouldn’t know that. It’s an app that everyone gets on to look at funny videos like five mothers beating the shit out of each other over a doll.”
My nerves flared. “How am I going to get this doll?”
“Lucky for you and me, I know a guy who knows a guy who also, knows a guy.”
I frowned. “Do any of these guys have the doll?”
“Fuck yes. We can pick some up tonight. I’ll tell him to add a fourth to my order.” Anthony shook his head. “My boy wants one too. He’s five so I’ll let him have it. I’m one of those progressives. Don’t mind if the kid is gay. Although his mom told me to not say that. Who knows? Maybe he isn’t gay—”
“What is a Foxie Cherry doll?” Everything seemed so foreign.
“Foxie comes from this top cartoon called, Adventure Garden. She’s this orange fox with bright cherry-red hair. All curly. She has this cherry dress that lights up with LED lights.
“It lights up?”
“And she sings and moves her eyes from side to side. Personally, I think the shit is creepy, but there’s this interactive cherry tree playset. The tree lights up in sync with the doll’s dress and plays music. There’s a picnic basket too that talks.”
“It talks?”
“Yeah. I forgot its name. It’s a chick too.”
I sighed. “I got to get that.”
“Consider it already with you.” Anthony hit me with a huge smile. “Finally, I can provide you with something.”
More jumbled thoughts and feelings crowded my head.
I’m a father. An idiot one.
I leaned back, still clutching the envelope tightly. The revelation of having a daughter was overwhelming, and now the thought of buying her a gift—something as simple as a doll—seemed like a daunting task.
But Anthony’s casual chatter about the toy and his own experiences as a father was oddly comforting.
“The app also has this feature where Foxie Cherry goes on virtual adventures in the Adventure Garden,” Anthony added. “Kids can plant virtual trees, care for them, and watch them grow. It’s supposed to teach them about nature and responsibility or something. That’s good for kids.”
Anthony navigated the car down 34th street, and then brought us to a sudden stop in front of a large bookstore. It had an old-world charm, its facade adorned with intricate woodwork and stained glass windows depicting literary scenes.
The windows displayed an array of books, from ancient leather-bound tomes to more contemporary hardbacks. Each book seemed carefully selected, and placed as if it were a piece of art.
A vintage brass lantern hung beside the door.
The sign next to it said, “Closed.”
I raised my gaze to the camera positioned just over the door. It was odd with the antique vibe of the place.
Anthony killed the engine. “Why a bookstore?”
“I need some items and then to change.”
“And that’s here?”
I nodded.
“But why would the owner make it a bookstore?”
“He told me that books are like guns. They both can change the story.” The image of Zuri and my daughter filled my mind. I wasn’t ready to look at the other pictures of Carmen yet. I liked the idea of imagining her as a baby for at least a few more minutes.
I’m a father.
“I’ll be right back.” I stepped out of the car.
The cold breeze cut through my blood-drenched clothes.
I stopped in front of the door.
A mechanical whir sounded up ahead.
I gazed up at the camera. It swiveled, and the lens focused on me.
I let the unseen eyes study me as my mind returned to Zuri and Carmen.
How will I get her to forgive me?
Then, a soft but audible click resonated from the door as it unlocked.
Chapter 6
The Bookstore
I grasped the handle.
Goosebumps rose on my skin from the chill of the metal.
I pushed the door open, and it creaked as I stepped into Truman’s. The scent of old books enveloped me.
Every surface was adorned with literary paraphernalia—old typewriters, quills, ink pots, and even a globe that looked like it belonged to another century.
Towering shelves created a maze throughout the space. Books of every conceivable genre stacked each path.
Antique chandeliers dangled from the high ceiling. The dim lighting cast shadows that danced across the spines.
To my right, a spiral staircase wound upwards, disappearing into the shadows of the upper floor.
Still looks the same.
I walked deeper into the bookstore. My footsteps echoed softly on the wooden floor.