He spotted the “restrooms” sign on the far wall and headed that way, Tara in tow. He stopped mid-stride and Tara smacked into his leg. Was he supposed to take her into the men’s bathroom?
“Maybe your mom should take you.”
She shook her head. “You.”
“You’re a girl.”
Tara frowned. “So?”
“So I can’t go in your bathroom.”
“I’ll go in yours.”
The more Dave considered that, the worse it sounded. What if someone else was at the urinal? His little girl wouldn’t see some stranger’s equipment on his watch. “No way.”
Her lip started to stick out. Dave gulped. Was that the pout or the beginning of an honest-to-god fit? He didn’t want to find out.
“We’ll use yours.” He grabbed her hand again as she made a beeline for the bathrooms.
His relief was palpable when presented with a third option, the “family” restroom. He pushed on the door, but it didn’t budge.
Crap. There went the easy out.
Tara started for the women’s bathroom. “Gotta go.”
“You can’t wait until this one’s open?”
“Now.”
With a shake of her head and stamp of her foot, Tara walked into the women’s restroom. Dave had no choice. It was either follow her or let her go by herself. She was still too young for that, right?
He glanced around guiltily and then slipped through the door.
Thank God it was empty. “You can go by yourself?”
“Yes, Daddy.” She disappeared into the stall and soon he heard a tinkling noise.
Eeew. He felt creepy listening to someone pee—even if that someone was his daughter. He shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned against the wall, wondering if his pizza was getting cold. As he contemplated the horrors of congealed cheese, the door swung open and thunked his shoulder.
“Eeeee—”
A kid ran back out of the room, screaming. “Mommy, there’s a man in the bathroom!”
Uh-oh. That couldn’t be good. “Tara, you almost done?”
“Uh-huh.”
He heard a flush and she came out of the stall still pulling up her shorts. At the same time, the bathroom door opened again and a burly guy in a Pizza Palace uniform glowered at him.
“What’s going on in here?” the big guy demanded. His nametag declared him to be Chuck.
Dave yanked his hands out of his pockets. He needn’t have bothered. He didn’t look any less creepy. He was still a grown man in the women’s restroom—and this time he wasn’t there for a quickie with some hot chick he’d just met.
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