The Long Way Home (Corps Security #6)(2)
Riley, though, has never spent a day in her life outside of the care of her mother or me. That is, until this year. Now that she’s in kindergarten for a handful of hours each weekday, she’s getting another thing that was a big no-no for our family. An education outside of carefully chosen upper-class private schools with the best of the best tutoring us after each day.
The day that I opened my coffee shop—Olde Mug by Bean and Co.—I struggled for a bit getting my groove going. It’s important to me, beyond all words, that Riley never experience the harsh upbringing her mother and I had to endure. Just like that day three years ago, when she came to live with me, she’s been by my side every step of every day. Which is exactly why, when choosing the name of my shop, I made sure my sweet Riley girl had the biggest stamp smack dab on the heart and soul of the business. There will never be a day when she will ever have to doubt her importance over everything in my life. It doesn’t hurt that she runs that place with an iron fist of the toughest dictators. My employees think it’s the cutest thing in the world, which is good because otherwise, I would have to fire all of them. My little bean will always be my number one priority. It’s Riley and me against the world.
I think about my sweet Riley as I place slices of sourdough bread into the toaster oven, smiling at the vision of her flitting through the shop with her raven hair in pigtails as she demands that things get done her way. I continue cooking breakfast, stirring the eggs. My Riley girl soothes the restless soul inside me that this weather always precipitates. The best medicine, that girl.
I jump, realizing that I must have been completely lost in thought, stuck in my own head and mentally zoned out, when I hear Riley shouting a demand to that know-it-all robot she said we just must have. I’m convinced that a little stalker gremlin lives inside the screen that I’ve come to disdain greatly at times. Who knew a machine that was only supposed to offer simple conveniences could also be used as an annoying torture device as well once a very bright little girl taught herself how to use technology to her advantage?
“Alexa, please play BTS!” she yells with a burst of joy only slightly higher than her normal pitch.
I turn my head in question, watching her bounce in her seat with excitement.
And of course, that little know-it-all machine responds immediately, and I’m convinced that brat Alexa directs her mocking tone at me when she does.
“Okay. Shuffling songs by BTS on Amazon Music.”
And just as suddenly as my calm appeared, it vanishes as the stillness of my beautiful kitchen becomes riddled with music at an ungodly level. My little bean begins to sing along, complete with what sounds like perfectly spoken Korean lyrics. Riley doesn’t even know Korean, so it’s got me transfixed as she just keeps going and going.
“Save me! Save me!” Riley yells.
Yes, someone please save me.
“I need your love before I fall!” she continues. “Save me! Save me!”
The music picks up, and even in my shock, I have to admit they’re good. She keeps dancing, clearly knowing a good dance break when she hears one.
“Beep, beep!” she yells, her smile getting bigger, and I feel one creeping up on my face, despite my complete confusion. “Save me! Save me!”
“Kim Namjoon! Kim Seokjin! Min Yoongi! Jung Hoseok! Park Jimin! Kim Taehyung! Jeon Jungkook! BTS! BTS!” She shocks the crap out of me with the weird chant at the top of her lungs, sounding completely possessed as her little eyes are closed tight, smile huge, face pointing at the ceiling. She repeats herself, pumping her little fist in the air when she yells, “BTS!”
What on earth is going on?
Of course, I know who BTS is. You’d have to be living under a rock not to have at least heard about the Korean pop megastars. They’re her favorite group at the moment. It still gives me pause when she, having no prior connection to the Korean language or culture, can sing along to every word in every one of their songs she falls in love with. They don’t have to be my favorite band for me to value the joy that their music brings to her, but maybe I can value them just as much for her with a touch lower volume. I smile, letting her have a little more time with the music playing way too loud. She doesn’t pay me any mind while I keep cooking, completely lost in her BTS-loving world. I’ll never admit it, but I enjoy them almost as much as she does. I’ve fallen down the rabbit hole of their fandom, complete with my own bias and wrecker. But it will forever remain my secret, and they’ll never steal the top spot from my favorite band, Queen.
I watch her with a smile while plating her breakfast, tapping my foot to the beat. It takes me longer to cover her eggs with her favorite cheese and put the toast on her plate, too content to watch her close out her performance until the very last line of the song. I love watching this girl shine. As soon as the song finishes, I act quickly before the next song has a chance to queue up.
“Alexa, volume four,” I order her nicely, pretty proud of myself for not outwardly showing how much I dislike that know-it-all bitch of a robot. I see Riley’s lip twitch, and I wait for her to remind me to say please to Alexa. She skips it, though, scowling at the device that’s no longer giving her a mini concert, making me contemplate electronic murder again.
Today, setting an example for the child that will undoubtedly repeat anything I say stops me. The possibility of that happening and showing the prim and proper teachers at St. John’s Day School some of my gold-star parenting is the last thing I want to deal with. No doubt I would be called into the headmaster’s office to be reprimanded … again. I thought my days of being on the naughty list in school were in my past, that is until Riley decided to yell “shit” when she broke her pencil one day. Now I’m right back on the very top, only on the parent list instead of the student one.