“How can I help you?” I ask, crossing my arms across my chest.
“Well sir, we’d like to talk to you about our daughter’s baby,” her dad says.
“You mean, our baby. My baby.”
He ignores my words and acts as if I didn’t speak.
“Right, we understand how much this all has probably burdened you. Having a baby, having to take care of her in your current situation.” He looks around at the B&B, allowing his elitism to ooze from his ass.
“Anyway, what we’re trying to say is, what’s your number?”
I’m confused by what he’s asking me, and the look on my face says as much. “My number?”
Her mother pipes in. “Yes, how much would you like for us to take the baby off your hands. I think her name is…Macy?”
“It’s Maize. And actually, I’m appalled that you’d have the audacity to march your uppity asses
