Daddy Issues

1. Ivy

1

IVY

Phoenix, Arizona.

Why is it that something so simple as dropping a five-dollar bill into Fred’s cup on payday made me feel like a real, live princess? The receptacle rested on a blue tarp beneath the overpass where his camp was located and the traffic snarled above. The sweat suctioned off my armpit as I reached out, and I could sense the fairy makeup sliding down my face.

“You’re an angel, Bambi.” Said Fred. Bambi wasn’t my actual name, nor was he Fred. We used the nicknames for each other. As if the land of make-believe could keep us from waking up to reality.

A hot gust of wind blew a pile of crumpled newspapers, discarded flyers, and plastic bags across my magical slippers, inspired by fairy tales and purchased on Etsy. Created entirely by hand, they cost me half a paycheck.

Once again, I scorned myself for not wearing sneakers to work in order to save my costume essentials from wear and tear.

Like clockwork, she hollered inside my head, “You can’t even afford to feed yourself, let alone buy a pair of new shoes! You insisted on taking this stupid job that doesn’t pay s**t!”

Of course she was gone now, but her strident tone and her words took up residence in my mind.

And I had the scars on my body to prove it.

“Hey Fred?” I asked my homeless friend.

He peered up at me, his baby blue eyes framed by wrinkles jolly as Santa Claus, the beard around his mouth yellowed by nicotine.

“We ever getting out of this place?” I inquired.

He scrubbed his stocking cap back and forth over his head. “I’m just traveling through this world. My actual home is in heaven.”

The smell of hot pavement and urine rose from the sidewalk, and I took a step backwards. “Maybe while you’re wandering in temperatures well over a hundred degrees, you could lose the knitted cap and sweatshirt? One of these days, you’ll collapse from heat stroke.”

Fred pulled a tuft of dried grass out of the sidewalk c***k by its roots and used it to brush to and fro across his chin. “You know how it is, Bambi. I’m kind of a hot mess.”

A pedestrian passed and called back over his shoulder, “Yeah. Aren’t we all?”

My stomach dropped and I grew dizzy from feeling so empty inside.

These concrete streets would do that to you, remind you that even surrounded by others, you were still ultimately alone.

Remember your charges. You told them you’d bring special snacks for them today. Best get going. Otherwise, you won’t have time to stop at Little Tokyo for the soft and chewy gummies that come straight from Japan.

Masugai gummies were my secret. I used them to get the people in my care at Club Juicy to do pretty much anything. No matter how bratty their little headspace.

“See you tomorrow, Fred.” I waved goodbye, walked off and turned back to remind him, “Don’t spend it all in one place.”

He sat with his arms wrapped around his knees, glaring straight in front of him, the jolly aspect completely gone. Fred was dwelling with his demons again.

It was time to wrestle with mine.

For more than a minute, Club Juicy was the answer to my prayers. Instead of seeking safety in its darker corners, trying to keep out of sight when I pushed past its double doors, I used to look my co-workers in the eye, choosing to walk down the middle of the hallway, unafraid to draw attention to myself.

But that was before Brad became a patron and decided I should be his.

He was a guy who didn’t take “no” for an answer. He deemed anything or anyone that went against his word public enemy.

It was because of him, I’d started keeping a low profile at work. I used the back door and rushed to the locker room so I didn’t have to hear him. “One night is all I’m asking. Just one. I’ll pay you twice your entire month’s wages and you never have to do it again if you don’t want.” He repeated it like a broken record.

I shivered, remembering the way his red tongue darted past his lips as he finished his sentence.

Shoving the door of the employee lounge open, I saw Gigi who greeted me with a smile that eased the difficulty I was having breathing. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.” She said, “Another minute or two and Bonehead would assign me as crayon and paper fairy in the little room.”

She pulled her socks up below her knees and sat down to strap on roller skates. “I’m no good with kids.”

I needed to take a load off and sat on the bench in front of my locker. The mirror revealed my fairy mask had smeared, and I began touching up the sweat-smudged spots.

“They’re not actually children, you know. Their alter egos just make them act younger than they really are.” I explained.

“Is it healthy helping them live out that fantasy? It’s delusional, don’t you think?” Gigi combed a part down the back of her head and put each half of her hair in a low ponytail.

“They’re not hurting anyone. I can imagine a lot worse things they could do to seek comfort.” I said, stroking the sleeve of my gown and touching the raised ridges of my scars on my forearm underneath its concealing fabric. Hiding my old wounds in Arizona was a sweltering proposition. I was hot enough to scald a lizard.

Reaching into my backpack, I took out the four bags of gummies that I’d brought for treats. “Besides, I think of them as children of my own.” I left my friend with that thought and headed down the darkened hallway to check in with my supervisor.

The dude Gigi and I sarcastically referred to as the boss man heard me approaching and shouted, “Ivy!?” I cringed at his tone, and told myself it wasn’t her. Anyone who ever raised their voice at me reminded me of my mom.

Get over yourself, Ivy. I needed to toughen up.

Purposefully, I thrust my shoulders back and lifted my chin in an I-kowtow-to-no-one gesture. “I’m right here. There’s no need to yell.” I spoke from outside the hallway and stepped into the pink and purple neon-lit bar where Charles, our boss, insisted we clock in before every shift.

“You’re late!” He shoved his hand into a beer pint, repeatedly grinding into it with a sponge, bearing a tight expression round the eyes.

“My shift starts in ten minutes, Charles.” I wrote the time of my arrival in his ledger.

“Lay off the girl.” The voice made my stomach turn. A waterfall of chills spilled down my back. Brad kept talking, “When she finally takes me up on my offer, she may decide to never return as your employee.”

Charles’ voice was tense, “I told you, any arrangement with Ivy will be a bargain struck with me, her handler.”

My heartbeat was thwacking against my chest wall, a squirrel-sized creature trying to leap its way out. I darted my eyes around the bar, seeking a safe exit strategy where I wouldn’t have to pass anywhere near Brad.

From the far corner of the room, came a voice like hot whiskey with a splash of honey, “You’re not her handler now, are you Charles?”

The man who spoke wore a dark suit, complete with matching vest, and his shirt was as striking as the snow on the White Mountains of Arizona.

In his darkened corner, his features were blurred, but he was clearly handsome.

I jerked down the cuffs of my fairy gown sleeves, fed up with men discussing me as if I were property. “He’s being obtuse because he thinks Brad’s offer will entice me. More revenue for me, more revenue for Club Juicy. Only one problem with that logic—not everyone can be bought and sold.” I snapped.

On that note, I spun on my hand crafted, felted fairy heel, and sped my way towards the arts and craft room where my littles were awaiting my arrival. I looked forward to a retreat to the delightful world of sippy cups, pacis, stuffies, and onesies.

Before I did, that body-burning sound spoke up again, “Come find me after your shift, Ms. Anderson. I’ve got a onetime offer for you to consider. Especially since I now own the place.”

I stood frozen, my hand on the exit doorknob.

“In other words…” said that sinful voice, “I’m your new boss.” He declared. “The name’s Rupert Taylor, and from here on out you report to me.”