Good Girl (Playroom) Read Free

go out sometime. Ya know… and celebrate your birthday,” Kieren smoothly says, causing my eyes to bulge from my head out of shock- I must look like a cartoon character from the nineteen-forties. Kieren’s lips quark up into a smirk and he winks in my direction. I watch Mr. Kline instead, as he exaggeratedly rolls his eyes.
    “Willow wi ll let you know,” my boss frostily replies for me. “Good luck with your truck. Tell your dad I said hello and I’ll see him Saturday night as usual.” Mr. Kline’s words are pleasant but his voice is frigid.
    “Sure thing, Auggie.” Kieren conspiratorially winks at my boss and blushes. “I’ll stop in again and see ya real soon, Willow.” Kieren doesn’t look at me as he says it. He stares at Mr. Kline and it’s said in a way that’s mildly threatening.
    Mr. Kline makes a throat clearing noise that means mmm-hum , yeah sure , and buh-bye all at the same time. I feel like I was the item being negotiated on, not the actions figures.
    As soon as the bell dings , solidifying Kieren’s departure, Mr. Kline breathes in deep and releases it in a gust, and his hand drops from my neck. I pick up Darth Vader and march him around the counter towards Aquaman. The action figure disappears just as Darth was about to pummel him.
    “Hey!” I yell in a nnoyance. “Aquaman sucks anyway,” I whine.
    Darth disappears fr om my hand and is softly cradled in Mr. Kline’s big palm. He practically coos at it. Ah- it was Darth Vader that my boss was coveting. Now I understand that hefty chunk of change he paid for a handful of shitty action figures. I watch in amusement as Mr. Kline tucks his baby in an air-tight display box and disappears into his backroom.
    I transform Bumble Bee from his car into the mighty autobot and continue my assault on the lame Aquam an. He doesn’t stand a chance. I may have even made sounds to go along with my assault, but I’ll deny it.
    “Are you through?” Mr. Kline asks in amusement. He’s leaning his tall body on the door frame to the back of the store. I can tell he was watching me for a while. I blush and quickly pick up Kieren’s dolls.
    “You put me in a store w ith this stuff when it obviously wasn’t a good idea. I only had Robbie’s toys to play with growing up. Clover’s dolls didn’t survive to be handed down to me. My parents thought a toy was a toy, so I had action figures that were a decade old. Working here is the equivalent of a junkie cooking meth. Not a good idea.”
    Big palm s deftly grip my hips and plunk me on the counter. I’m five-feet tall and weigh just under a hundred pounds. I look like a twelve-year-old boy with a ponytail. Mr. Kline towers over me by a foot and a half and more than doubles my weight. When I’m in trouble, my boss puts me on the counter like a bad toy so that he doesn’t have to bend down as far to yell at me. I’ve known Mr. Kline as long as I’ve known my brother, just as long as I’ve known my entire family.
    My first memory is of Mr. Kline and Robbie playing horsey with me- I was the horse and they were my handlers. I would neigh and crawl around the yard, chasing after a carrot. Mr. Kline never let me have the carrot. He’d eat it and laugh. He also wasn’t Mr. Kline back then, he was Auggie. When Auggie graduated from high school, he told me to call him Mr. Kline. See why I am confused now that Mr. Kline wants me to call him Auggie again.
    “No Kieren. Do I make myself clear?” Mr. Kline firmly says, broaching no room for argument. He towers over me and leans into my personal space. Anyone looking in would see a mammoth of a man eclipsing a child, but I’m not afraid- he’d never hurt me… Intimidate me… oh hell, yes!
    “Yes, s ir,” I say, but don’t mean it. I like Kieren. What’s the big deal? Mr. Kline manages to pull off a wince at the sir and a look of disappointment that has me strangely feeling guilty. I never feel guilty, and I don’t like it. I manipulate adults or