“That’s kind of the whole point, baby.” Someone please give me the code to my kid’s brain.
“Oh.” Still with the shark. “Nah, I don’t wanna go.”
“I’m gonna be there too,” I kept with the sales pitch. “The other grown-ups and I will be talking and doing adult stuff but I’ll be right there the whole time.”
“In the same room?” I got his eyes again, along with another twitch. What are you so worried about, little man?
“Probably in the next room but you can come see me whenever you want.”
“Hmm.” His tiny lips shifted to the side in thought. “I guess.”
That was the best I was gonna get so it was time to move on. “All right, dude, let’s get this hair washed and then I’ll let you stay in for ten more minutes—but then you have to get out, no arguments.” With the amount of time this kid liked to spend in the bathtub you’d think he was a beleaguered mother from a Calgon commercial.
Out in the hall, I stopped at Gavin’s open door. He was standing barefooted by the dresser fiddling with his phone, still dressed in his dirty jeans and t-shirt from work, his shaggy brown hair matted from his hardhat.
“I don’t get it. What kid doesn’t want to go on a playdate? Didn’t you always want to hang out and do boy stuff when you were his age? I was always hanging out with other kids, wasn’t I?” I asked him. Maybe I was having some selective memory problems.
Without looking up from his phone he responded, “Sure, I guess.” Ever the skilled conversationalist.
Rocco’s voice floated from the bathroom, singing a made-up song about armpits. “Be honest, Gav. Is Rocco, I don’t know, a bit odd?”
His head still tilted down to his phone, only his eyes lifted to mine. “Are we both hearing the same noises coming from the bathroom right now?”
Chapter Six
Dear Superman: Your Brother’s a Dick
LANEY
Thursday dawned bright, and I mean bright. A person was not meant to get up this early. I stumbled around my bedroom, having woken up without my little sleep buddy beside me for the first time since we’d moved. Oh, sweet progress! My alarm had gone off early because I wanted to get Rocco and myself ready for the day and still make it to meet Charlotte at the building site before rushing to school and work. This was going to be a three Diet Coke morning for sure and I needed my caffeine fix stat.
Last night, I had spent some time on the internet looking up nervous tics to see if Rocco’s new nose twitching thing was something to worry about. Turns out yes and no. It seems these little tics are really common in young children, boys especially, and they tend to go away over time. Unfortunately, my research also revealed that the impetus for these kinds of tics was often a feeling of general stress. So, in a way, it told me what I already knew. Ugh.
After a quick shower and a rush-through of my usual hair and makeup routine, I tucked my hair behind my ears and called it good. Congratulating myself for setting out clothes the night before, I slipped on a pair of charcoal dress pants with a skinny red pinstripe and a V-neck sleeveless blouse the color of a poppy. I paired this with some very low heeled open-toed shoes in a matching color. Even Fiona would approve.
I went to wake Rocco but found his bed empty, firetruck sheets in a rumpled mess and pillow missing. After a search of the living room and kitchen I checked the only other possible place. Yep. There he was, snuggled up next to my brother, firetruck pillow cradling his head and all of Gavin’s covers bundled around him. My brother lay next to him, curled in the fetal position with no covers but, thankfully, some boxer briefs to protect my eyes from the bleach bath they would have needed had things gone differently.
“Your son stole my covers,” grumbled Gavin in a sleepy murmur.
I smiled—only because my kid is cute, not because I enjoy my brother’s pain—and went over to the bed to get Rocco.
“Hey buddy.” I rubbed up and down his back. “Time to wake up.” His sleepy eyes blinked repeatedly as he rolled to his back and stretched his arms above his head. “Did you decide to hang with Uncle Gavin last night?”
“Yeah,” he said around a yawn, “but he farts in his sleep.”
Suddenly wide awake, Gavin interjected, “I do not!”
“Do too.”
“Do not! And you steal all the covers!”
Again, why doesn’t my son want to play with other five-year-olds? He clearly lives with one already so it should be a no-brainer.
“Okay, okay, let’s get up and leave Uncle Gavin to himself.” I urged Rocco out of bed.
“What time is it anyway?” Gavin asked.
“It’s only ten after seven. I had to get up early because I have something to do before work.” I walked toward his door.
“Crap. Too early,” he muttered, but I suddenly had an idea.
“Hey, since you’re already awake, would you mind getting Rocco ready and giving him some breakfast? What time do you leave for work?”
“I’m working at the site up the street this morning. I don’t need to be there till eight. I was going to take advantage and sleep in,” he said pointedly. “Why do you need me to take care of Rock? Where are you going?”
Hmm, how should I handle this one? I didn’t really want to tell Gavin that I was going to help some neighbors give his new company a hard time, but I didn’t want to lie either. “Remember that lady who came by the other day with her kid? She wanted me to help her out with something this morning. I’ll be back in plenty of time for you to make it to work.” Vague, let’s stick with that.
“Okay, I guess. Just give me ten more minutes of snooze time, Rock, and I’ll get you some breakfast.” Gavin laid his head back on his pillow and covered his eyes with his arm.
Knowing that Rocco can’t tell time and Gavin, like me, possesses no internal alarm clock, I set a buzzer for ten minutes and turned the TV on to cartoons. “When that buzzer goes off, go get Uncle Gavin and tell him it’s time to wake up. If he doesn’t get up tell him that I will erase all his college women’s volleyball recordings from the DVR,” I told Rocco as he settled in on the couch. I may as well have been talking to myself. I paused the show and tried to block his view. “Tell him your clothes are lying on my bed, okay? I just need to run up the street for a few minutes but I’ll be back in time to take you to school.” I got a nod but his eyes never left the TV. I un-paused it and hoped for the best.
Wanting to stay in Charlotte’s good graces but get this over with as soon as possible, I grabbed my cellphone and slipped out the side door, heading quickly toward the sidewalk. As I approached the end of our block where it intersected with Old Oak Ridge Road, I spotted Charlotte and Aiden with a couple I didn’t recognize and a toddler girl who appeared to belong to them. The man also held a sleeping baby in his arms, wrapped in a pink blanket. Aiden was poking at the ground with what I hoped was a plastic knife, and he had what appeared to be an arsenal of various other knives tucked into some kind of utility belt looped around his pants.
Behind the group I spied two yellow construction vehicles—don’t ask me what they were called—and a flatbed truck loaded with two more. The truck’s signage read “Built by Murphy” and there were three men huddled in conversation to the side of the large vehicle—the tallest of whom held a cellphone to his ear with one hand, the other hand gripping the back of his neck as he alternately barked into the phone and to the men beside him. Tense much?
Charlotte spotted me immediately. “Hey, Laney! So glad you made it!” She waved excitedly.
I couldn’t help but respond to her friendliness with a smile. “Morning, Charlotte!”
“This is Darcy and Glen. They live across the street from me, and this is their daughter Haley and this cute little bundle is Mackenzie.” She gestured enthusiastically to each person in turn. “This is Laney. She just moved into Missy Greene’s old place. She has a son who’s only a year younger than Aiden.”
After introductions were made and pleasantries exchanged, Charlotte got down to business and pointed discreetly to the group of men by the truck. The one who had been on the phone a moment ago was now scowling and gesturing angrily at a clipboard held by one of the other men. “Okay, so from what I know, I think one of those guys is the owner of the construction company. I figured he’d be the one to talk to.” She looked back down the street toward our houses. “I was hopin’ we’d have a few more people, but it looks like it’s just us for now.”
Little Mackenzie chose that moment to awaken and start fussing. Glen began bobbing up and down doing the crying-baby-dance in what seemed to be a well-practiced routine. Charlotte looked at me. “Laney, you mind comin’ over there with me?”
No, Charlotte, actually I think I’ll just hang here with the baby and these people I don’t know—you go on ahead—you see, my brother just started working for this company last week and it’s the first real job he’s ever had since he ruined his baseball career by being an idiot, and I kind of don’t want to mess it up for him. But I’ll be right here cheering you on. Go team!
“Sure.”
There was absolutely no reason for these guys to think I even knew Gavin. I’d just keep my mouth shut and let Charlotte do all the talking. Piece of cake.
I followed Charlotte as she waved her hand in the air and walked toward the men, her auburn hair swinging and her hips sashaying in workout pants and a bright yellow fitted t-shirt. “Yoo-hoo. Gentlemen!” she called. I didn’t know there were actual people who used the expression “yoo-hoo.” I was loving this chick.
All three men turned in unison to the Southern firecracker that was Charlotte. The man on the left held the clipboard to his forehead in order to shield his eyes from the sun, and his handsome face broke into a wide grin at the sight of my neighbor.
Oh, I knew this guy. Well, not this particular guy, but his type was unmistakable. He was the guy at every party, every gym, every concert with the cock-sure smile who stood a bit too close and made allusions to his cock size within your first conversation. He was also the guy who found any and every excuse to take his shirt off—oh, is it hot in here or is it just me? Gag.