The Bad Boys

by Sosie Frost

  I took a deep breath. That was a mistake. Whatever Ray Ray did in his diaper made him giggle manically. This baby was neither cute nor fair.

  “Is there anything we can do?” I asked. “Call in a favor. Promise him a raise. Shut down the bar.”

  “Mandy—”

  Nate shouted and burst into the kitchen. He stopped Jamaal before he grabbed a knife from the cutting block but was too late to prevent Tasha from snipping a lock of Benji’s hair with the manicure scissors she procured from the bathroom.

  He returned to me with a shrug. “I’m sorry. I have to go down.”

  I held the baby away from me. “Okay. Just…grab my phone.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ll call Rick. He should be off his shift by now.”

  Nate snorted, and I was surprised smoke didn’t pour from his nose. I hadn’t intended to make him jealous, and I didn’t think any animosity still existed between him and Rick, but Nate immediately called Pat. He bargained life and limb, but it worked out. He could stay…and Rick wouldn’t get to rescue me.

  I didn’t have time to think. I didn’t have time to breathe. I shouted for Tasha to drop the toaster and to follow me with a diaper bag. Nate was on his own with Jamaal. I forgot about Benji.

  Whatever Ray Ray unleashed in his diaper was the best birth-control I’d ever seen. Too bad it came four months too late.

  He laughed, actually laughed, as I tried to clean every crevice the had somehow caked with his artistic merit.

  This was too much. I changed him on the bathroom floor, which was a good idea as I kept heaving into the toilet. Tasha screamed like someone murdered her as I threw up. She bolted from the bathroom and ran smack into Jamaal as he led Nate on a chase around the apartment after stealing all the spoons. Assorted cutlery clattered to the floor amid a variety of shrieks and cries.

  That was the moment Ray Ray reminded me that he was indeed a boy. I shifted to finish his diaper only to discover that he turned into a fountain.

  A monument to my naïveté.

  I didn’t have a diaper ready, but I had the bathmat. I couldn’t really angle it right, but I could at least control the flow of his little sprinkler.

  Again, he laughed. Manically.

  The books hadn’t mentioned anything about evil babies. After he finished his demonstration, I checked them for all manner of birthmarks which might have cited some sort of demonic possession or sign of the antichrist. He had none. Lucky for him.

  I finished with the diaper, thoroughly washed my hands, and returned to the kitchen. Nate had recovered most of the pillows from the bed—the two that had been used in a fight between Jamaal and Tasha. The kids weren’t hurt. I couldn’t say the same for our only bedside lamp. The bulb blew and shattered, plunging us into darkness. The kids screamed. They scattered. Glass was everywhere.

  Nate vacuumed up the mess, leaving Benji to his own devices. He found the grape jelly in the fridge, and used it is finger-paint on our appliances, the floors, the chairs, and in bright purple handprints over our television.

  The TV had been on but was unable to entertain the children as Jamaal somehow flipped the language dubbing to Spanish. Apparently, they weren’t fans of Dora-The-Law-And-Order.

  That was about the time I thought we were out of our league.

  And the kids thought so too. They made sure we understood it.

  They screamed. They fought. They didn’t listen.

  They refused drinks only to raid the fridge and dunk orange juice over the floor.

  They didn’t want to color, but they used my nail polish to polka dot the lampshade.

  They weren’t hungry, the Benji ate every crumb from inside the couch and chewed on every piece of yarn he could untangle from the fringe on our pillows.

  I found a Disney movie for them to watch on Netflix. Unfortunately, they didn’t understand why Robin Hood and Maid Marian hadn’t yet traveled to Arendelle to find Elsa.

  Tasha then demonstrated a half hour long rendition of the same two lines from Let It Go, Jamaal deliberately drew on Benji, and Ray Ray decided to become colicky and screamed like a banshee in my ear.

  After an hour, I was frustrated.

  After two, I was terrified.

  After another sprinkler diaper change, spoon in the garbage disposal, and Vaseline smeared over Jamaal’s face, I was done. I couldn’t do it anymore. And Nate knew it.

  He watched me reach for my phone but he couldn’t untangle himself from the braids he unsuccessfully wove in Tasha’s hair.

  “Mandy, what are you doing?” He stood. It upset a bowl of popcorn. Benji dove to eat every kernel that had touched the ground. “Who are you calling? Baby, put the phone down.”

  I trembled. “I’m sorry. I have to.”

  “What are you doing?”

  I couldn’t believe I was saying it. I was desperate, exhausted, covered in three children’s poo. I couldn’t think straight, and I must have been delusional. It was the only reason calling her made sense.

  “I’m getting Mom to come help.”

  Nate freaked. He leapt across the couch and slapped the phone from my hands.

  “Don’t do it!” He held me by my shoulders and shook. “Don’t! You’re better than this. You can handle it.”

  “I can’t!”

  “Goddamn it, Mandy. We’re survivors! Do not call your mother!”

  He was right, but I couldn’t think, couldn’t feel my feet, couldn’t breathe. I cupped a hand over my tummy and forbade my daughter from ever emerging from my womb—not until she was ready to graduate high school, had learned proper manners, and was potty-trained.

  The kids screamed, wailed, and pooed.

  This was a living nightmare.

  Was it always going to be like this?

  Nate surveyed the damage to his apartment with a sigh. He clapped his hands and gathered the kids, a bunch of blankets, and a flashlight. He tossed them into the hallway and turned down the lights so Ray Ray could finally sleep. We didn’t have a fireplace, so he opened an app on his iPad that looked like a fire and gathered the kids close while he played spooky sounds on his phone.

  “You’ve got to be super quiet now,” Nate whispered. “If you want to hear this ghost story, you have to stay silent. Know why?”

  The kids went still, staring at him with wide eyes.

  “Because with this particular story…the ghosts are also listening…and the instant they think someone isn’t paying attention…” He lunged over the iPad. Jamaal and Tasha shrieked. “They get mad.”

  “Oh Lord. Don’t scare them,” I said.

  “I’m not scared!” Jamaal yelled.

  Tasha smacked him. “I am!”

  If nothing else, the story was some silly little tale of Jello coming to life without any truly scary moments, but the kids listened, enraptured, until their eyes started to close. All three collapsed in the hall, snuggled in blankets, sufficiently traumatized for the next time their mother attempted to serve Jello or any other pudding-type dessert.

  An hour of relative peace and one fussy baby later, my family returned.

  This time, the kids didn’t get riled up—they got angry, grumpy, and nearly beat their aggression out on Ray Ray. Tanisha scolded hers and hauled them into the hall before they tore the molding off the wall. She wished me luck with my baby and corralled her children through the bar and outside to the car.

  Lindsey and Belle fussed over Ray Ray, now cooing like an innocent little hellspawn. I swore he narrowed his eyes and deliberately flicked his middle finger at me.

  My sister glanced over the apartment—trashed, sticky, overturned, and smelling of an odd mix of sweat, diaper cream, and grape jelly.

  “Wow…” Lindsey laughed. “You had some night.”

  “You owe me.” I let the threat linger. It tasted good. “You won’t know where, and you won’t know when, but you will owe me.”

  Belle hugged me and waved to Nate, still crashed in the hall, as exhausted as the kids. “Than
ks for doing this. You guys are the best. It’s so good to get out!”

  Belle blew me a kiss and left with Lindsey to catch a cab back to their house.

  I sunk onto the couch.

  The apartment was turned upside down and shaken. Nothing was where it belonged, everything felt sticky, and the panic set in. Hard. Terrible.

  Nate hauled himself to his feet. He shrugged and cracked his neck.

  “That was an adventure,” he said.

  An adventure?

  Was he serious?

  I stared at him, hands over my tummy. My words tumbled out. I didn’t cry. I knew the tears wouldn’t help. Nothing could.

  “Nate…I don’t think I can do this.”

  4

  Nate

  Mandy freaked out.

  And she had every right…just as Bryce would retain the right to kick my ass once I slathered Lindsey in grape jelly.

  “Baby, we survived. Let’s go to bed.”

  “What about the mess?”

  No way was I cleaning the apartment now. I could hardly move, let alone scrape gum and formula and various condiments off the couch.

  “Forget it,” I said. “We’ll tackle it tomorrow.”

  Mandy shook her head. “I can’t sleep. Don’t you see? I can’t do this.”

  “We’re only having one baby, Mandy. Not four demons dumped on us.”

  “We’re…not ready. And there’s no time to get ready.”

  “There’s plenty of time.” I kissed her forehead. “I know you’re scared. It’s life-changing and crazy, but there’s one thing you have to remember.”

  “What’s that?”

  I grinned. “Under no circumstances do you ever call your mom.”

  I laughed. She didn’t.

  In fact, she scowled.

  “This isn’t funny, Nate. I know you think it’s no big deal, but we have less than five months to completely change our world. Not just babyproofing the apartment, but health insurance for me and the baby? Child care? Will I stay home with her? What do we do about your late nights and me working regular hours? We need to build the nursery. We should find a pediatrician and get started on the baby registry.” She took a shaky breath. “Nate, I love you, but I need you to take this more seriously.”

  “I am serious. I’m gonna love our little girl, and I’m gonna take care of her. But you can’t let yourself worry through the entire pregnancy. There’s no reason to be afraid now. It’s not a secret anymore. You finally told me.”

  She flinched. That wasn’t what I meant. I didn’t want it to sound like I blamed her.

  “Look,” I sighed. “What I mean is…things are already changing. You have your stuff in my bathroom and your freakishly-cold feet in my bed. I’m already making adjustments just by letting you live here.”

  “Letting…me?”

  Something told me I made a mistake, but I was too tired to filter through the right response.

  “Well…yeah. We had to be together for this.”

  “I thought you wanted to be together for this?” Mandy stood. “I had no idea you were just letting me live here. I thought…”

  “What else would you call it? It’s not like you agreed to marry me. This is the next best thing for the baby. We agreed you’d move in, and we’d deal with everything.”

  Mandy didn’t answer. She gnawed on her bottom lip. “I’m sorry, Nate. I don’t want to be something that needs dealt with.”

  “What?”

  “I know I’m a pain in the ass right now. I’m scared and worried and planning for a million different contingencies. But I’m only trying to do what’s best for the baby. What was best for us.”

  “Me too.” I had no idea why she reached for her purse or where she was going, but I prevented her from walking to the door. “What the hell is happening? I told you. I’ll take care of you and the baby. What more do you want?”

  “You have to want it,” she whispered. “You have to understand everything is going to change, or else it’s just like you offering to marry me because I’m pregnant. The baby isn’t something we do. She’s supposed to be a blessing…and I think I’ve already screwed everything up.”

  She pushed past me. I followed her to the hall.

  “Where are you going?” I asked. “It’s late.”

  “I…need to think.” Mandy didn’t look at me. “Don’t wait up.”

  What the hell?

  Was I supposed to chase after her, make her more upset?

  Should I have let her go, so she could cool off?

  Jesus. This was the problem. I hadn’t been with Mandy long enough to know how she reacted to a fight. I knew which one was her favorite childhood doll, and I remembered how she used to color the neighborhood sidewalk with chalk—because Bryce, Rick, and I would turn on the hoses and wash it away just to make her cry.

  But I never knew her beyond the girl next door. That was the fun part of falling in love. I could discover her. Be with her.

  And that was what living together was supposed to do. I wanted to know how she worked, what she thought, how she felt, why some things made her giggle and others worried her.

  Wasn’t that what a relationship was about? It didn’t matter if she had a ring on her finger or a baby in her belly, we were together, learning each other.

  So why the hell didn’t I tell her that before she raced out the door?

  Damn it. I really was an idiot.

  I changed out of the sticky clothes so I could run after her, but someone knocked on the door before I got the shirt over my head.

  Probably Pat, pissed that I hadn’t come down to give him a break like I promised. I shouted for him to come in.

  “Nathan.”

  The shirt dropped. I gritted my teeth.

  What the hell were they doing here?

  “Dad.”

  I didn’t welcome him inside, and neither he nor Mom looked comfortable entering the apartment. Not that I could blame them. I hadn’t made my home open to them since I moved out, and, in its current state, not too many people would come inside.

  “It’s late,” I said.

  Dad cleared his throat. “I presumed you worked…different hours. I didn’t want to have a conversation in a bar.”

  I let Mom give me a kiss on the cheek. She said nothing about the mess.

  “What do you want?” I asked.

  “We wanted…” Mom spoke without waiting for Dad. She hesitated, but usually she acted out around me. Or acted normal, whatever was the real Mom. “Your father and I talked. We wanted to see if you needed anything…since Mandy moved in?”

  “What? Like a wedding?”

  Dad nodded. “It’s the right thing to do.”

  “Yeah, I tried that. And we agreed. We’d live together and wait for the baby.” I met Mom’s gaze, figured she’d like the news. “A baby girl.”

  She covered her mouth, hiding a smile I wasn’t sure Dad wanted to see. “How blessed you’ll be.”

  “Yeah. That’s what everyone says.” I gestured over the apartment. “This was the result of our first night babysitting. Mandy’s cousins brought over four kids and gave us a heaping dose of PTSD. No wonder you guys stopped having kids after me.”

  Dad stared over the mess and chaos. “Then I’m relieved this was the destruction of a toddler and not my son acting like one.”

  “Good to see you too, Dad.”

  Mom placed a hand on his arm, and the stone-cold, commanding stare she gave him actually silenced my father.

  Damn. Put a grandbaby on the line and Mom stepped up.

  “I couldn’t sleep,” she said. “I wanted to check on you and Mandy…and offer any help your father and I might provide. In this case…” She studied a glob of jelly dripping from the ceiling. “Maybe a few sponges and soapy water.”

  I rubbed my head. “I don’t think you can fix this one.”

  “Where is Mandy?” Dad asked.

  I shrugged. “Hell if I know. She got upset. Said she had to go for a w
alk or something.”

  My phone dinged. I checked the text and groaned.

  Staying at Mom’s tonight. I’ll call tomorrow.

  “Not good news?” Dad’s eyebrow perked, as if he expected my profanity.

  “I have no idea what happened.” I tossed the phone away. “Mandy is treating the baby like it’s a potential disaster. She’s prepping like it’s the second coming and we got left behind.”

  “And you…aren’t preparing?” Mom arched an eyebrow. “You’re not worried?”

  “She’s a baby. She’ll eat, sleep, cry, poop…what else is there?”

  Dad hadn’t taken a seat. He held his coat close, as though he feared dropping it on anything too sticky. “And what does Mandy think of the baby?”

  “Like she’s some big fucking crisis.” I didn’t apologize for swearing even though Mom flinched. “She’s planning ten years down the road what to pack for her middle school lunch. She’s talking pediatricians and health insurance and worrying about taking care of the baby and knowing what to do if she gets some sort of exotic Amazonian disease. I have no idea what to tell her, because any time I say don’t worry, I make things worse.”

  “Why do you think that is?” Dad asked.

  “Because she’s Mandy.” I paced the living room. “She’s responsible. She’s smart. She’s compassionate, and of course she’d want to make sure the baby’s okay and that the family is okay and that everything she does is best for everyone but herself.”

  “Is it the best for you?”

  I frowned. “What do you mean?”

  Dad took Mom’s hand. “Son, you only learned a month ago you were going to be a father, and you’ve only spent a total of four months in a…questionable relationship with this girl.”

  My chest squeezed. I didn’t like that tone.

  “So?” I said.

  “Are you sure you’re committed to her and the baby?”

  I had every right to kick my father out of my house, and even more of a right to punch him square in the jaw. Mom placed a hand on my chest, pulling me back before I got too close to his face.

  “I love Mandy. And I love my daughter.”