Page 2 of Playboy’s Purgatory

“I think Ariel was a mermaid,” the guy offers, amusement in his voice.

“She is. Considering mermaids don’t exist but goldfish do, and they have tails, I’m going to say they’re the same thing and just go with it.” Vanessa cocks her hip slightly, her hand landing there like she’s the authority on the obvious evolution from mermaids to goldfish.

The man takes the hint and raises his hands in surrender. “That makes perfect sense,” he’s practically genuflecting with his words. After I pay for her throws, he hands the ping pong balls to Vanessa and steps to the side. “Have at it, little lady.”

She tosses the first ball, and it hits the edge of a bowl with a soft ting. I let out a slow breath but know not to get ahead of myself. There are two more throws.

Her second attempt lands, but between four bowls. The sigh that comes out of me has Vanessa looking at me with narrowed eyes. I try and bat my lashes at her and look innocent, but her glare only intensifies.

When she turns back toward the fishbowls, her features become a mask of determination. I love seeing it, don’t get me wrong, but it also makes my stomach sink. She’s a force when she’s determined.

I keep my eyes on the ball as she releases it in a perfect arc to get toward the middle of the table. As much as I want to shut my eyes, I keep them open. My mouth falls open when the ball lands cleanly in one of the bowls.

“Holy shit,” I breathe out.

Vanessa whoops loudly and jumps up and down. She’s clapping and grinning. I can’t help but smile.

Even though I don’t want a goldfish.

I eye the man accusingly and bite out, “You don’t give us any food for them either, do you?”

“Can’t say we do that,” he drawls.

With a huff and a roll of my eyes, I focus on Vanessa who is doing a little happy dance next to me. “Ariel is coming home, Mama,” she exclaims and grabs my arm.

“Perfect,” I try to sound excited. It comes out a little flat.

Vanessa doesn’t care; she starts making plans as if she believes this fish is going to live through the night. I’m not sure it will.

“You have to order pink pebbles for the bottom. And she’ll need a bigger habitat, that bowl doesn’t circulate the water and fish tanks always have things for that.” She looks up at me, and her eyes widen even farther. “Can we get a treasure chest? Oh! And a unicorn. Ariel needs them so she doesn’t get bored.”

I meet the eyes of the man who is now holding a fishbowl out toward Vanessa. He smirks at me and I almost reach across and slap him. I’m not sure how I’m capable of holding myself back.

“Enjoy the rest of the fair, ladies,” the man moves away from us. “Look over there, that little lady just won herself a goldfish,” he shouts out to people passing by.

The glare I shoot him would have him cowering. If he was even looking at me. But he’s not.

While leading Vanessa away and toward the stage, since it won’t be long until the cake eating contest begins, she chatters away about Ariel. I nod and make noises of understanding while she talks, but I’m thinking about what I need to figure out tonight—like food—because it’ll take a few days for everything else to come in.

Am I really going to order everything she needs for this goldfish? I eye the fish swimming around the small fishbowl. I wish it could tell me if it’s going to last tonight or a week or even a month. Then I could plan better.

If only.

I set Vanessa up at a table near the stage. I’ll have to go up there for the cake eating contest. The local paper will run a picture. Even though I’ll glance at it and wish the angle was better, it’s damn good marketing for the bakery.

While the winners of the silent fundraising auction are being announced, I grab Vanessa a fair treat. You can’t make funnel cake like they do at a fair; it’s just not the same. I’ve tried.

Her attention flicks between Ariel, the stage, and her funnel cake.

“Before we get onto the main event,” the announcer’s voice carries through the area and people perk up, “can I please have all the cake eating contestants come up to the stage along with the sponsor of this feat of speed and deliciousness, the owner of Bunz Out, Lara Chapman.”

My heart starts to race the moment he says my name. I love helping every single customer who comes into my shop. I’m more than willing to spend time chatting with them.

What I do not like to do is be in front of crowds. It makes my skin crawl; it always has.

Vanessa kind of shoves me toward the stage while giggling, but I only vaguely hear the sound. I make myself take a deep breath and hope it’s enough for my hands to stop shaking. The smile on my face probably looks more like a grimace; it has to look forced as hell.

There are announcements about lost items, reminders for pick-ups from some of the vendors and then a review of when the fair is shutting down. I think I hear Bunz Out again when sponsorships are mentioned, but I’m only half listening.