Hidden Benefits
Copyright© 2025 by PlatinumIce
Chapter 2: Lindy & Jane
Rounding a long, sloping bend, they emerged on the far side of the Fountain and were immediately engulfed in a drove of stampeding children. They surged past in a rush of knees and elbows, almost dragging Angie off in the deluge.
Brad steered a course through the human tide, navigating towards the picnic benches beneath the weeping willows. Four or five regulars from Sole Parents were reclining in the shade, sipping fruit juice and trading the week’s gossip. Two of them waved in Brad’s direction, beckoning him forward.
Four of the usual suspects were present; Mary Glover and Deborah Lambert from the Westside, Carol Thompson from Newtown Playgroup. Cathy Everett sat to one side, keeping watch on the kids. The Rituals of Greeting were observed, the obligatory wisecracks made. The whole process lasted around a minute, then Brad was planted comfortably in the center of the group, basking in their good-natured acceptance. He’d grown quite popular over the past few months, being one of the Society’s few resident males.
However, it was Angie who was the definitive center of attention. Kisses were lavished on her freckly cheeks; teasing fingers skittered over her neck and shoulders. Angela squealed with pleasure, lapping up the attention, then ran over to hide behind her cousin, blushing to the roots of her hair.
Brad nodded along in casual satisfaction. None of it was empty flattery, his cousin was an unusually pretty little girl. He’d noticed that young, single mothers were particularly susceptible to her huge, liquid eyes and baby-soft features. Any one of them would have been happy to pack her up and take her home for the weekend.
“You want a soda, honey?” Deborah Lambert offered, trying to coax her out from Bradley’s shadow. Angie wasn’t budging (she knew full well that Debbie only wanted to snatch her up and gobble her tummy), but her smile melted every heart within visual range. Brad checked the settings on his camcorder while the drink was poured, glancing out towards the Playground.
The Indian Fort was swarming with sun-dappled figures, clambering over the rope bridge and body surfing down the high-slide. A small party of boys congregated at the bottom of the monkey bars, yelling taunts out to the girls and making half-hearted attempts to chase them around the teeter-totters. Business as usual, in other words. Brad raised the digicam and clicked on the power.
“There you go, sweet-heart,” Debbie said, handing over a cup of garishly bright orange sludge. Angie stepped tentatively forward, reaching out for the saccharine horror.
“What do you say?” Brad prompted without looking up.
“Thank you,” she trilled in her fluting soprano, then retreated before those girl-snatching hands could descend on her. This was, in fact, a much beloved game, one she’d played countless times before. Deborah Lambert was a world class tummy-gobbler; half the fun was evading her clutches until the end of the picnic.
Angie stepped back behind her protector, placing a hand on his shoulder while she solemnly emptied her cup. Brad finished his preparations and slid the LCD into position, tracking slowly across the playing field.
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