“How about I take you over?” I suggest.
His entire face lights up as he nods eagerly, practically bouncing in place.
To be fair, my intentions are mostly pure. I think every kid here deserves a chance to meet Honkers. It just so happens that Hollis is over there too, filming some behind-the-scenes footage on her phone as our mascot gets mobbed by a large horde of children hyped up on way too much sugar.
“So, what’s your name?” I ask, placing my hand on his shoulder as we walk.
“It’s, uh… it’s um,” he stammers, and I patiently wait. “Garrison.”
“Garrison, huh? That’s a cool name,” I compliment, giving his shoulder a light squeeze. “I also have to say, I like your jersey. Looks good on you.”
He glances down, touching the front of the Honky Tonk Jersey with a number eight on it, as if he somehow forgot what he’s wearing.
“Oh, uh, yeah,” he shrugs, his cheeks turning red.
“Now, you can’t go telling everyone this,” I say, lowering my voice. “But I’ve just got to say it. You are easily the best-dressed kid here.”
His smile only grows just as we reach Honkers and his overly enthusiastic fans.
“Honkers, my man,” I call out, loud enough to grab the attention of the mascot and the kids. Every head whips inmy direction, and of course I don’t miss the excited ripple of whispers saying my name.
Honkers does his wing-flapping shuffle as he comes toward me, and I meet him halfway before we launch into our usual greeting as we jump and bump chests.
“So,” I say, leading Honkers toward my new little buddy. “I wanted to introduce you to my friend, Garrison.”
Honkers does what he does best and hypes him up, throwing his wings in the air and motions for a high-five. Garrison wastes no time and slams his hand hard into Honker’s wing. Soon, Garrison joins in with the rest of the kids as they dance around with Honkers.
I use this as my opportunity to sneak a glance in Hollis’s direction.
While I expect to see her filming Honkers and the kids, she’s instead staring at me with a strange, and dare I say, soft expression. If I didn’t know her, I’d possibly mistake her for a fan, because, despite the intimate moments we’ve shared, she’s never quite looked at me like that until now. It’s a look of pure adoration, and even if I don’t always feel worthy of it, it makes me want to try, if only for her.
“How’s it going? You getting some good footage?” I ask, breaking through whatever trance she’s gotten herself stuck in.
“I am. This is going to be perfect for the fundraiser gala this weekend. There’s no way the donors won’t fall in love with these kids after seeing how much joy my dad’s charity brings them.” She beams as she glances out at all the children and families letting loose and having fun.
“Your dad is pretty amazing for putting this all together,” I muse, also taking it all in.
I’ve not only seen the happiness on the children’s faces tonight, but I’ve received so much praise and gratitude from their parents as well.
“Yeah, he’s a pretty amazing guy,” she nods as the smile on her face strangely begins to falter.
“You okay?” I ask, folding my arms as I nudge my elbow into her shoulder. “It’s not because of us, or because I came over here, right?”
“No.” She lets out a loud sigh. “It’s nothing like that. I just… I know he loves baseball and the whole Honky Tonk organization in general, and while I get why he wants me to stay and be a part of all of this,” she waves her arm across the field, “I haven't changed my mind. As soon as the season ends I’m out of here.”
As glad as I am to know I’m not the reason for her weird mood change , I'm not so sure I like that answer any better. Not only has she done an amazing job with all the various social media channels, everyone in the organization has fallen in love with her. She’s become an integral part of the Honky Tonk family, and I’m not sure what we’ll do without her. Hell, I’m not sure whatI’lldo without her.
“I still don’t get it. You obviously like being here.”
She shakes her head. “Of course I do. I love it here, and it’s truly been one of the best jobs I’ve ever had. But growing up, I’ve only ever been known as Jared Clemmin’s daughter. I told myself that someday I’d make my own name and build something that was all mine, and I can’t exactly do that when he’s the one who gave me this job and the one signing my paychecks.”
“Your dad didn’t hire you because you're his daughter. He hired you because you were the best person for the job,” I remind her. “Our social media has grown by over two hundred percent since you’ve taken over the accounts, and that has nothing to do with who your dad is. That was all you, Holls.”
“Maybe,” she shrugs before slowly walking backward, still facing me. “But what I’m actually worried about right now is whether you and I are going to have some fun tonight.”
She’s obviously trying to change the subject and with my constant desperation for her approval, I decide to drop it and play along, at least for now.
“That depends,” I say, following after her. “What kind of fun are we talking about here?”
