Disciplining Little Abby (23 page)

Chris pulled the plug on the bathtub and pulled her to her feet. Using the handheld sprayer, he quickly rinsed her off, then wrapped a fluffy towel around her and helped her out of the tub.

“No, you’re probably right about that,” he agreed.

Abby pouted. “I’ve been there ten years! I always come to work, and I’m always on time. But they don’t care about that. They just don’t like me.”

“Well, I like you,” he said, kissing her nose as he wrapped a towel around her wet hair. “So who cares about them anyway?”

Abby giggled and took his hand, following him back to her room. She had decided to return to her apartment for now, at least until Kali went back to college, and had asked Chris to stay with her in the meantime.

Chris sat her on the edge of the bed and began to untangle her hair. He had promised he’d take her to a new skate park that had just opened in a neighboring suburb, and she was impatient to go. It had taken all her big girl self-control to not cut out of work early for it, and then Chris had to drag things out longer with her bath.

It had been his idea to create a sort of ritual for coming home. He’d promised it would help Abby learn to keep her work life separate from her personal life, and she had to admit it helped her disengage from grownup Abby. Every day she came home to a waiting bubble bath. Chris would bath her and wash her hair, then help her get dried off and dressed in her play clothes. T
hose are everyday clothes
, she could hear Kali reminding her.
Play clothes are for when you play grownup
. They’d only been doing it for a few days now, but already she looked forward to it eagerly.

Except for today. She’d begged him to skip the bath and just let her change clothes. After all, it wasn’t like she’d worked out or gotten dirty, and she’d have to take a bath after skateboarding anyway. Nothing she said mattered. She’d even tried whining, but that only earned her a sharp smack on the bottom and a warning to get in the tub or forget about the skateboard park entirely.

At last he finished with her hair and helped her into the clothes he’d laid out for her: baggy jeans with shredded knees, her favorite black sneakers with the purple laces, and a black tank top. Pulling her hair into her signature twin ponytails, he stepped back at last and nodded approval.

* * *

The skate park was packed, and Chris sat on the sidelines as Abby inched her way towards one of the ramps. He was surprised at how nervous she appeared. It had been a while since she’d skated, but it was obvious to him at least that she knew how to handle herself. It wasn’t until two other skaters wiped out spectacularly that he saw her began to relax, although it was almost a half hour before he saw her gather up enough courage to try any of the ramps. Chris had never been into skateboards, though he had several friends who were, and he knew enough to recognize that she’d had skills at one time. She just needed practice now to get them back.

Idly, he thumbed through the magazine he’d found sitting on the end of the bench. Mostly advertisements with a scattering of results from major competitions and a couple of articles cribbed from the internet. As he looked through it, he recalled the conversation they’d had earlier about her job. It came as no surprise to him that the higher-ups where she worked weren’t interested in giving her additional responsibility. They’d seen her content to get by doing as little as possible for over a decade. If she really wanted a job with a future, she’d have to look elsewhere.

It was an hour and a half before she finally took a break, plopping down on the bench beside him. Her face was glowing with excitement, and her hair was damp with sweat. “Did you see me?” she asked. “I only wiped out once!”

“I did,” he grinned, putting his arm around her and giving her a kiss. “Pretty good for someone who hasn’t skated in what, a year?”

“More like five,” she admitted. “What are you reading?”

He showed her the magazine. “Mostly advertisements.”

“
Three
Sixty
,” she nodded. “Used to be cool, featured local skaters and pictures and all. I was in it once,” she added. “I saw him coming, so I was showing off. I was catching air after coming off a rail.”

“Maybe you should see if they’re hiring,” he mused, but Abby shook her head.

“It’s a one man show,” she said. “The guy who owns it does it all. He doesn’t have any help.”

Chris nodded. “Well, it looks like he needs it. I can’t believe anyone reads it the way it is now.” Tossing it aside, he stood up. “It’s already eight-thirty and we haven’t had dinner. Plus, I think you’re going to need a quick shower before you go to bed.”

* * *

Briefly she considered begging for more time. It’d been so long since she’d been on her board, and she’d forgotten how much she loved it, but her tummy had been growling for the past hour, and her body was sore in places she’d forgotten existed. She followed Chris back to the car without argument, pausing to say goodbye to a few people she’d been talking to earlier.

As they rode home, her thoughts wandered. She was still miffed about the blow off she’d gotten from her boss, and she knew something had to change. It was too bad
Three Sixty
didn’t have any openings. She would have relished the chance to bring it back to the way it was when she was a kid, full of articles and photos of the local skater scenes as well as information about local events.

And then it hit her.

“Do you think I could run a magazine?”

Chris glanced sideways at her. “I don’t know,” he replied thoughtfully as he changed lanes. “Do you?”

Abby stared out the window as the ideas began to roll in her mind. “I’ve got ten years’ experience with editing, plus I’ve helped out in layout more than a few times.” It didn’t sound like much when she said it out loud. “And what I don’t know, I know people who could help me.”

“What do you have in mind?”

She ran her idea by him and watched as he mulled it over. “I think it’s a great idea,” he said at last. “Do you have any ideas on how to finance it?”

Abby nodded, pulling her cell from her backpack.
I know just the person
, she thought as she found the contact number and hit call. Glancing at Chris, she showed him her crossed fingers just as the voice on the other end answered.

“Hey, Daddy. I want to buy a magazine.”

* * *

Andrew Willis was a quiet, thoughtful man, with jet black hair and light blue eyes that had left more than one young lady scheming to snag him back in his younger days. Now in his late fifties, the black had yielded to grey in more than one place, but his blue eyes still retained the spark of his youth. Abby thought the grey just made him look distinguished.

Giddy with anticipation, she struggled to sit still as he thumbed through her business proposal and the copy of
Three Sixty
she’d given him. He’d helped all of the Willis women launch their businesses, and Abby was positive he’d back her as well. She had no doubt she could turn the magazine around; already she was brimming with ideas for change.

“I don’t see anything about the magazine’s current financials.”

“I don’t have them,” she said nervously. “But given the low overhead, I’m sure it’s at least breaking even.”

Her father raised an eyebrow at her. “You’re guessing.” Laying the proposal back down, he propped his elbows on the desk and laced his fingers together. “First off, I’m thrilled you are showing an interest in this. I agree it’s right up your alley. It’s the financial end I’m concerned about. Until you talk to the owner and get a look at the books, you really have no way of knowing what you’re getting yourself into.”

“But I know what he’s bringing in,” she protested, pulling a page from her proposal to show him. “I checked out his advertisers, found out what they were spending each month. I know what his printing costs run, and he’s making enough to cover that with money to spare.”

“You’re leaving out a lot of expenses though. Utilities and insurance for starters. Or are you planning on running this out of your apartment?”

Abby’s hopes sunk. She hadn’t considered anything beyond the printing costs. “I just thought…” Her voice trailed off. There was no way he’d back her on the magazine. She couldn’t believe how naive she’d been. Standing up, she quickly gathered up her papers and turned to leave.

“Abby, honey, wait a minute.” Her father came around the desk and grabbed her shoulders, turning her to face him. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t help you. I just need to have a better idea of the magazine’s finances so I know how much help you’re going to need to pull this off.”

She allowed him to lead her back to her seat. “You don’t know how happy you made your old man by asking me to help you with this,” he said as he circled the desk and sat back down. “Give me a few days, maybe a week. I’ll put a few feelers out and see what I can dig up about this company, get a better idea of what it will take to first buy it, then run it.”

* * *

Andrew Willis watched his middle daughter skip across the driveway to a snazzy, custom painted convertible.
When did she get that car?
When it came to Abby, he didn’t know much of anything anymore.

Though he would have died before admitting it, she’d always been his favorite, with her wild imagination and fierce independence. Unfortunately, the constant friction between her and Elizabeth Joan had nearly severed the familial ties, and he knew almost nothing of Abby’s life. It had been a complete shock to hear her voice the night before. He simply couldn’t remember the last time she’d called.

Even more shocking was the woman who came to him for help. Gone was the sullen, defensive teenager. The Abby who showed him her business proposal was calm, confident, and professionally dressed, and yet she was still his little girl. He had no idea how she’d pulled that off, but he had an idea of who he needed to thank for it.

“What was that all about?”

His shoulders tensed at his wife’s voice. “Abby wanted to run a business proposal by me. She’s looking to buy out a magazine and wanted my help.” A slight smile played at the corners of his mouth as she gaped at him in disbelief.

“She wants to run a magazine,” Elizabeth Joan said flatly.

“I told her to give me a couple of days to figure the finances out and then we’d move forward with it.”

“Our Abby wants to run a business?” She huffed derisively. “That’ll be the day.”

Andrew sighed. He tried to avoid conflict with his wife whenever possible, but her constant dismissal of Abby was really starting to anger him.

“Our Abby is trying to step out in a new direction,” he snapped, and was gratified to see his wife take a step back. “She’s taking control of her future, and I intend to see she gets all the help she needs.”

Without another word, he turned his chair around until his back was to his wife, effectively ending the conversation.

* * *

The next few weeks went by in a blur of excitement, anticipation, and eager planning. Her father had made a few calls and gotten a good deal of background on the magazine’s changing fortunes over the past few decades. There were a number of problems, one being the owner Ben Jamison’s unwillingness to embrace social media, but the number one factor in its decline seemed to be when the photos of local skaters stopped appearing. Apparently the parent of one featured skater didn’t approve of her son’s image being used without her permission. The ensuing lawsuit was eventually settled out of court, but it apparently soured the owner on featuring local kids. Rather than get parental consent and signed model releases, Mr. Jamison simply opted to stop using them at all.

Once the skaters realized that, their attention quickly waned. With the rise of the internet and YouTube, they no longer needed to sit around and hope
Three Sixty
would catch them mid-trick and feature them on the cover. They could put their own pictures and videos online and be seen by millions. Without their support, it wasn’t long before the majority of the advertisers backed out. These days the magazine held on by just a thread, kept out of the red thanks to almost zero overhead and a half dozen small advertisers.

On the advice of her father, Abby had called and arranged a meeting with the owner. As instructed, she left her intentions vague, simply saying she’d kept up with the magazine over the years and was interested in discussing the direction it was heading. It had taken all of her self-control not to beg for a meeting that afternoon, but with Chris looking on, she took a deep breath and suggested a time the following week. At the time she thought the appointment would never arrive. Now she found herself wishing she had another week to prepare.

“You’re going to do great,” Chris said kindly as he carefully ran the flat iron through her hair. Abby could barely sit still while he got her dressed and ready for the long awaited appointment. “But if you keep fidgeting like that, you’re going to get burned.”

“What if I mess up?” she asked as he gathered up another lock of hair to flatten. “What if he says no?”

“You’ll be fine,” he chuckled. “Just remember what we practiced, and it will work out.”

Abby wished she’d felt as confident as Chris and her father were. Her father had instructed her on everything to say and how to react so that no matter what happened, she’d know what to do. Chris had even played the role of the grouchy owner so she could practice how to handle him, but standing firm with the two people she loved most was easy. It was standing in front of a total stranger that scared her.

Once her hair was finished, Chris retrieved the navy blue dress he’d bought her and helped her into it. Abby stood still while he zipped up the back, then sat on the bed and held her feet out so he could slip her shoes on.

“I know, but I’m still scared,” she whispered in a small voice. Chris patted her on the head. She watched as he picked up her blankee and rolled it tightly, then stuffed it into the oversized tote he’d gotten for her laptop.

“You’ll have your blankee with you, so if you get scared, just slip your hand in the tote and squeeze it, okay? Now, let’s go. We’ve got an appointment to make.”