Reason To Stay

Chapter Seven

"Daddy." An eight years old Zoe called, tugging her father's shirt to draw his attention to the television screen. He peered up from his phone and stared at the TV . "What is it lil B?" He asked. Lil B was Patrick Brown's nickname for his daughter. It means little Brown.

"See these people." She said, pointing to the television screen. "They are walking like the people uncle Richard trains at the agency." She hopped on her father's lap and made herself comfortable. "When next I see him, I'll tell him I saw some people walking like him." She giggled, like she had just cracked a joke.

"What do these people do daddy?". She asked after a while.

He looked down and paused the game he was playing on his phone. "They are models baby, they represent a brand." He explained.

She twisted her body to face him. "So these models make the brand popular?" She further inquired.

"Yeah, something like that" He said, unsure of how to explain further. When he saw her nod her head in understanding, he continued playing his game.

"Daddy". She called again. He sighed and exited the game, placing his phone on the center table. "That man is lying". She said angrily, pointing to the TV screen.

It was a red carpet show and the presenter had asked Xan Smith who he was wearing. 'I'm wearing HF couture.' He had replied.

"You made that cloth daddy". She continued, without waiting for her father's response. "I saw it when mom dropped me off at your workplace. I also saw this popular man when he came to pick it up, daddy". She rambled on.

Her father watched the TV as he listened to her and he understood immediately why she was upset. "Look at me Zoe". He called, urging her to maintain eye contact. "He's not lying. I work at HF couture, remember?" He tried to explain.

"But you made the cloth!". She deadpanned.

"HF couture is a big name, the brand his huge. You see those models you asked me about earlier? They were showcasing HF couture's designs. There's no way Xan Smith is going to say, hey I'm wearing Patrick Brown". He explained further.

Her shoulder fell. "But why daddy?". She asked in confusion.

"Because that name doesn't ring a bell. Nobody knows Patrick Brown". Although Patrick was really popular in their neighborhood, he knew she understood what he meant.

She dropped the TV remote, loosing interest in the television and brought her head to her father's chest. "It's not fair daddy". She said on the verge of tears. "You make really good clothes".

"I know baby, I know". He said, patting her back. "But it is what it is".

Alarmingly, she jumped on her feet and turned to look at him, her face lightening as if she found a money tree at their backyard. "I have an idea'. She said.

"Ha! No". He shook his head. He recognized the look very well. It was the look she gave him when she begged him to help her pick the red oil from the top of the kitchen cabinet, only for her to 'accidentally' pour it on their neighbor's white shirt because he scolded her. Or when she asked him for a needle to mend her cloth and he heard their neighbor's daughter scream in pain because 'someone' planted a pin under her slippers. "Save it Lil B, I don't want to hear it".

"Nobody is getting hurt, I promise". She raised her pinky finger. He looked at her, puzzled. Even at age eight, Zoe had a reputation in the neighborhood as being mean. If Zoe threatened to to cut off your hair today, you'd find her buying a blade the next minute. The kids feared and stayed away from her, and she pretends not to care. It's no wonder she's called the little devil in the neighborhood.