Chapter 2
2
I ’ve done some embarrassing things in my life—drunken karaoke ballads, ridiculous dares—but nothing, nothing , compares to standing here in this godforsaken Easter Bunny costume. All because I lost my fantasy football league. Three hours of fucking torture playing Buttons the Bunny at Lake Geneva’s annual Easter egg hunt while my so-called friends laugh their asses off from a safe distance.
Seriously, I’m thirty-four years old. You’d think we’d be past this kind of nonsense by now, but clearly, we are not. The worst part is, deep down, I know none of us are growing up anytime soon. Not with stunts like this still on the table.
I shift in the bunny costume, my white parachute pants rustling awkwardly. The costume is somehow making me sweat even though it’s barely fifty degrees. At least the mask hides my face. Buttons the Bunny’s expression is frozen in a permanent state of wide-eyed horror, which suits me just fine at this point.
As if the universe has a sick sense of humor, I spot her. Anna. Great.
Anna started working at La Nonna about a year ago, and ever since, I’ve practically made it my second home. I tell myself it’s because of the food, but honestly, it’s mostly because of her. She’s hilarious, quick-witted enough to keep me on my toes, and always wearing something that clings to her hourglass figure. Anna’s a classic beauty—long blonde hair, blue eyes. Why does she have to be so damn cute?
She’s way too young for me. Younger than my youngest sister. I try not to think about the age gap, but standing here in this stupid bunny suit isn’t exactly helping my case. I mean, what kind of grown man does this to himself?
I raise my hand to wave at her as she walks past. It seems like she’s going to ignore me. But then she looks right at me and, to my surprise, she high-fives the giant paw.
“Anna!” I say through the mask, my voice muffled by the layers of faux fur. She blinks up at me, looking a little scared, before walking off toward the egg hunt. Can’t blame her. If some random bunny said my name, I’d be creeped out too.
I watch her go. These jeans today, hugging her in all the right places. I sigh, replaying that interaction, coming up with a hundred ways it could’ve gone better.
Twenty-two. Too young. But everything about her draws me in. Outside of her looks, she’s genuinely fun to talk to. Either way, I’ve been hanging around La Nonna more often than I’d care to admit.
“Chad!”
I turn toward the voice and spot my handler for the day—my buddy’s wife, Lauren, who works for the park’s district. She’s all business, clipboard in hand, knitted eyebrows saying she’s had about enough of this chaos.
“It’s almost time for pictures with the kids,” she says, tapping her watch. “Get over to the photo booth.”
“Lucky me,” I mutter under my breath, but I shuffle in her direction anyway. At least the photo booth means I don’t have to do much except stand there and wave. The mask does all the smiling for me.
I get into position by the booth, and the photographer takes a test picture then shows it to me. The white gloves, shoe covers, and oversized bunny head make me look like something out of a nightmare. Kids are definitely going to cry being forced to take a photo with me.
This torture is almost over. There is beer in my future, I remind myself. Nicholas, the newest member of our fantasy league and owner of the bar High Five, is buying the first round of beers after this as a way to conclude our fantasy season.
Lauren gives me a thumbs up as she prepares to herd the first batch of sugar-fueled kids my way.
My eyes wander back to Anna. I wonder if she’ll end up at High Five later. I know she enjoys going there sometimes. To be honest, I wouldn’t mind seeing her in a setting outside of her work and when I’m not dressed like a cartoon character. Or maybe I should get over myself and ask her out next time I’m at La Nonna.
A kid runs up to me, and I bend down to give him a high-five. He laughs like it’s the funniest thing ever. At least someone’s enjoying this.
One more hour. I need to survive one more hour in this stupid suit, and then I can retire Buttons the Bunny for good.