A Bundle of Mannies

by Lorelei M. Hart

  I walked past The Alpha’s Club every day as I returned from fruitless auditions. “So who did you study under?” and “What school did you attend?” beating through my brain. The sign outside always said Help Wanted, Dancers.

  And the time came when I couldn’t wait any longer. When the grandfather who raised me was diagnosed with cancer and his Medicare only covered the worst, least likely to heal forms of treatment. Working part-time at a convenience store barely paid the rent on my tiny place and bought me ramen. So...with some vague idea that I could practice my art while earning a better living, I swallowed my pride and stepped into the cool darkness of the club one morning about nine. I’d been surprised to find the door unlocked but saw a light somewhere at the opposite side of the building and moved toward it to find a man sitting at a table near a stage that extended into the middle of the room. He was making notes on a yellow legal pad like he’d never seen an electronic tablet.

  “Hello?” I called, stepping closer, and he looked up.

  “Auditioning?” he barked out and jerked his chin toward the stage. “Show me what you’ve got.”

  “What?” I was stunned but climbed the steps to the stage and stood there like an idiot. “What kind of dancing would you like to see?” I’d been on a lot of stages, but this was the first with a pole. Please don’t ask me to…

  And the older man with a salt-and-pepper grizzled scruff and a belly that could catch anything that fell from it laughed. “If you have to ask, you’re in the wrong place.”

  I swallowed, picturing Grandpa sitting in that awful clinic. “You want me to strip. Is there music?”

  “Hum something. And don’t make a lot of noise. I’m busy here.”

  It was the most surreal experience of my life. I couldn’t think of any stripper-worthy songs so I hummed something from The Nutcracker—an interesting choice considering I mostly did contemporary dance. But it didn’t seem to matter. The man hardly even looked up until I’d managed to strip down to my underwear. Then he lifted his face, shook his head, and said, “You start this afternoon. Five hundred a week plus tips. Do you have any costumes?”

  “N-no.” I didn’t think leotards and other similar gear were what he meant.

  “I have a couple you can use, but you’ll need to get your own. Work on a persona. You’ve got the body, if you can develop the attitude, you’ll have those alpha assholes drooling and throwing money at you. See you at three.” He went back to his notepad but I stayed in place. “Yeah? Is there something else?”

  “I-I thought it paid better.”

  “It does, once you get off afternoons. That can happen in a week or never, up to you. Take off those shorts and turn around.”

  I did.

  “Bend over.”

  I did that, too.

  “With that ass and that junk, you can be a headliner if you just use it. Now get out of here. What’s your name?”

  “Edwin.”

  “Now it’s Arachno. The human spider. We’ll set up a web.”

  And I left, and I came back, and a week later I was indeed working nights, swinging around on a web. This was more than just an alpha club, it was 100 percent nude dancing—with some lap dancing exceptions. I don’t even want to remember the time I got my junk stuck in the webbing and nearly ended up castrated.

  But Harv, the man who auditioned me and whose belly had only grown with time, had just had the nerve to accuse me of having one. Bastard. Of course a beer belly I could have fixed. What was going on with my body, not so much. At least not for another six months.

  And I still lived in that little apartment so I could send all the money to Grandpa. They’d given him weeks and he’d already lived two years and was responding well to the very expensive treatments. He was under the impression I was part of a legit dance company because he was also old-fashioned and would never have taken a dime from his grandson’s exposing himself to a bunch of drooling pervs.

  Now what was I going to do? I went to bed and tried to sleep, but of course my mind had no intention of shutting off. So I got up again and went online, hoping to find something to distract me. Facebook usually had enough stuff to do that, so I was reading my newsfeed and trying to avoid reading the ads they thought I’d be interested in like adult diapers and septic cleaning when I saw one I’d never spotted before.

  Manny needed. Must be willing to travel. Contact Manny’s Mannies for details.

  Chapter Two

  Judson

  “Absolutely not, sir. Find another.” I pushed the profile back across the table to Manny. He might be the best at finding families their perfect mannies, but he was either drunk or high if he thought I was going to take a dancer on tour as the care provider for my children. Just no.

  “Edwin is intelligent, compassionate beyond belief, and willing to jet off with your family for your four-month tour. Please reconsider and know that I work extremely hard at finding the perfect match for each family.” Manny pushed it forward again and sat back in his chair, his arms folded.

  All I could think about was Iliana and how she used me to try I wasn’t even sure what, but it had to do with the fame. The last thing I needed was a wanna-be dancer trying to get on a tour and ignoring my kids.

  “Thank you for your time.” Simon and Freddy were gonna be pissed, and I got it. They were experimenting with new sounds that worked amazingly in studio but needed the right person to make them work live. If they didn’t have a great sound person, they were either going to sound crappy or resort to recorded music, something they adamantly despised.

  I rose from my seat and started toward the door when he stopped me with two words.

  “He’s pregnant.”

  I found myself sitting right back down. “You are telling me that a pregnant dancer is willing to drop everything to tour with my family?”

  “I’m telling you that Edwin isn’t looking for fame or a leg up in his career or whatever you had in your mind about him. He is just looking for a job where he can save money and his pregnancy isn’t in the way.” Manny grabbed a folder and handed it to me. “This has all kinds of bullshit paperwork the tour company had both Edwin and I sign, including a clause saying he cannot work for them for ten years following this contract in any capacity other than manny.”

  “Shouldn’t he be home getting prenatal care or what have you?” I thought back to Iliana’s pregnancy. I didn’t remember much, I was still touring a lot then and living the lifestyle, but I did remember the doctors needing her to stay home and how pissed she was. Although twins might’ve been the difference there. I’d call her to clarify but not talking to her was best for everyone.

  “There is a doctor traveling with the tour this time.” He flipped over one of the papers and pointed to clause fourteen bazillion in the paperwork they had signed. The darn contract was far more intense than the one I signed which basically said what I was getting paid. Then again, Gordon understood me well enough to not try and pigeonhole me in the way this contract seemed to. Or maybe it was Manny insisting on something more formal, and why was I even worried about that?

  “For my manny?” Because as good as I was, I wasn’t that good as to warrant a personal doctor for the help they hired me so that I would work for them. That was just plain ridiculous.

  “Doubtful. They said he was on staff when I broached the subject.”

  “And you believe he can work out the whole tour? I can’t have my kids left alone partway through.” It was bad enough that they were going to miss a chunk of school. Sure, there was a tutor, but it wasn’t the same.

  “I’m trying to be nice and pacify all your concerns one at a time, I really am, but I am heavily booked today and don’t really have time for this.” He flipped the folder closed and took it from in front of me. “Technically, you are not even the person I should be having this discussion with. I was doing it as a courtesy. Edwin is the manny I selected and your company hired. If you have issues with that, take it up with them, and they can find another a
gency to work through.” The man played hardball I’d give him that.

  “Just one more question and then I will stop?” It came out as a question.

  “One more.”

  “If you were finding a manny for your children, would you pick Edwin?” Because that was the ultimate barometer.

  “For my children, probably not.”

  Fuck.

  “Because he is not the best match for my family. Would I trust them in his care for their safety? Absolutely. In a heartbeat.”

  “You would trust him but not choose him?” My head was spinning with all of this.

  “That is yet another question, but I’ll allow it.” How gracious of him. “My kids are all about art, painting, throwing clay, collage—you name it. For them, I picked someone who shared that passion so he could help them explore their love and talent.”

  “That makes sense. What do you think Edwin brings to the table that is a match for my kids?” I asked as the phone began to ring on his desk.

  “That is one too many questions for the day. But trust that I did consider that carefully. Now off with you. I need to answer this. If you decide to throw away this opportunity, have your people call.” He shooed me away with his hand as he picked up the phone.

  “Hello, this is Manny,” he answered as I left his office to go get the kids.

  I’d been on the fence the entire visit, the idea of someone I’d never met, someone who had a career in a field that could get a step up by taking the job made me nervous. But hearing Manny tell me about who he’d pick for his children and why had me feeling less nerves in my belly.

  At the end of the day, this was a good opportunity for us. The kids would get to travel, I wouldn’t need to be apart from them as much as I currently was between school and my job, and if I were being at all honest with myself, I missed the work. Sure theatrical productions were fun enough and teaching, if that worked out, would be steady work, but there was something about helping a band create an amazing experience that just did it for me. I was fine in my current position, skill wise, but the job I was being offered, well, I was a rock star, so to speak, in that capacity. And I loved it. My kids came first, but if they were well cared for, sign me up!

  This would all work out for the best. I suddenly could feel it, my nerves on the back burner. Now all that needed doing was getting the three of us ready for the tour.

  Chapter Three

  Edwin

  I was not going to meet the family I’d be working for until the first day of the tour. That had not been the plan, but scheduling issues on both sides had led to a situation where I stood outside my apartment building, surrounded by a duffel, a suitcase, and two other bags of assorted belongings. I wasn’t sure how much room there’d be for my stuff, but since I’d sublet the unit to another dancer for the duration, I had to take all my personal items with me.

  The bus wasn’t due for another ten minutes or so, according to the text I’d received from the driver, telling me when to be ready. The only reason I, someone who had to be low man on the rock and roll totem pole, was getting pickup service was the dump I lived in was within walking distance of my former place of employment, which was right next to the freeway on-ramp.

  My exit interview with Harv went about as well as I’d expected. He’d told me how stupid I was to let some guy fuck me unprotected, how stupid I’d been to go somewhere alone when at least four dancers had turned up dead in the past year, and how stupid I was not to appreciate the opportunities he’d given me.

  Then he burped.

  Always a pleasure, Harv.

  If I managed to get my pre-baby body back, I would of course be welcome to dance there again, but I sure hoped I’d figure out something else to do by then. I just didn’t want my kid to be the first grader whose dad was clambering naked around a spider web. It would make for a really sucky career day presentation.

  But for the next four months, I had a great job lined up. And it paid enough I’d be able to take off the last couple of months of my pregnancy as long as I didn’t overspend. As I tried to come up with an idea for something I could do besides stripping and fast food, I heard a diesel downshift and looked up to see the biggest, longest silver bus I’d ever encountered bearing down on me. The roof was piled with giant steel containers and when it stopped, the driver came down and opened the storage underneath, waving me over. “Come on, cutie,” she said in a whiskey-rough voice, “I’m Barbara Joanne, but my friends call me BJ. We have a schedule to keep.” She had curves for miles and enough tattoos on the skin revealed by her tank top for ten bus drivers. Her hair was dyed black and piled high on her head in what I thought might have once been called a beehive. In her forties, she was attractive in a kohl-eyeliner kind of way, and I liked her immediately.

  I found plenty of space for my duffel and suitcase, and one of the other bags but kept the soft-sided backpack with me for the road. It held my bare essentials: a large bottle of Tums, a few bottles of ginger ale, soda crackers, and a tablet which I thought I would use for keeping a journal of my travels. Might be worth something someday. I Was a Pregnant Manny on a Rock and Roll Tour. If I didn’t publish it, it would at least be something to look back on when I was old and settled down. Or a fifty-year-old stripper making ten bucks a night.

  Shuddering, I shouldered my pack and climbed the steep stairs. I guessed having so much equipment and luggage underneath was why the passengers sat so high. Did they carry everything with them?

  I had no idea, but having been to a few concerts before I started working nights made me think there was a semi or two out there somewhere headed for the venue as well. Almost at the top of the stairs, I got a little light-headed and gripped the railing. I felt a hand on the small of my back, bracing me, keeping me from tumbling down and breaking my neck. Not the best way to start the trip. Luckily these spells didn’t last very long, so in a minute or so I sucked in a long breath and let it out.

  “You okay, sugar?” That whiskey voice again.

  “I think so, yes.”

  “When I had my boys, I passed out nearly every day for the first trimester and a half. Just aimed for the couch and tried not to break anything. How far along are you?”

  Did everyone know? But I answered, “Three months. And thank you.”

  I stepped out of the stairwell and she followed, giving me a wink as she took her seat and pushed a button on the dash, shutting the door. I don’t know why I expected a handle like the school bus had. “Just head back, sugar, and take a seat anywhere. We’re grabbing the rest of the gang a few miles up the road.” She winked. “They don’t all live in the bus-yard neighborhood.”

  “I suppose. But it will be fun seeing it all.”

  “Yeah, uh-huh.”

  As she pulled the bus out into the thin Sunday afternoon traffic, I made my way toward the back of the bus, holding onto anything handy. A far cry from a city bus or the school bus of my childhood, this one was filled with leather seating groups and handy tables. A kitchen unit occupied the middle and the next section was rows of triple bunk beds with privacy curtains and two bathrooms. The very back was occupied by two closed doors, leading to I didn’t know what and didn’t feel right opening them in case they were private.

  I moved back to the front of the bus and sat behind the driver who was friendly and chatty and promised to keep an eye on me but not to tell anyone about my spell as long as I promised to be careful. I just listened, overwhelmed with the leap I’d taken out of ordinary life. The band I was hired by was one of the biggest in the country, although I didn’t know their music too well. I really only knew the music I danced to, either at the club or the contemporary I loved, but I thought it would be fun.

  Manny had assured me I wasn’t walking into an unsafe environment for me or my child—or those I would be caring for. The bus was no smoking, if anything. And the band preferred a farm-to-table diet to the junk food of past years and while drinking was allowed, drunkenness was not. It seemed that at least in t
his case, I was boarding a family-friendly bus.

  Still, when we pulled up, it was all I could do not to jump off and run the second the door opened. I even rose from my seat, my feet ready to go, but then I looked out the window and saw him. An alpha with two boys at his sides. He was surrounded by luggage, and each of the kids wore a backpack and looked at him as if he was taking them to the guillotine instead of on a trip around the country. He lifted his face and looked right at me with the biggest most beautiful brown eyes, so gorgeous even the bags underneath them didn’t detract.

  My heart squeezed, and I did stand up, walked down the steps and out to stand right in front of the trio. I held out my hand and offered a smile. “Hi, I’m Edwin, and I’m your manny.”

  Chapter Four

  Judson

  “Hurry up, boys,” I called for the tenth time. They had been all about going on the road until I told them they couldn’t bring their bikes. All of a sudden, I was the most evil father on the planet, and I had two grumpy kids. Wonderful.

  “I’m staying with Grams,” Bowie stated matter-of-factly, as if that would deem it so.

  “And you asked her if this was all right with her?” Because there was zero chance she’d take my little mischief maker for a week, much less four months. To be fair, he was less of a mischief maker and more a case of curiosity run amok, but the result was the same. She’d be all hell no to anything resembling having the boys full-time, and we both knew it.

  “Yes.” He slung his backpack over his shoulder. “She said, and I quote”—he raised his fingers and air quoted—“Not gonna happen in this lifetime.” That sounded like her.

  “Then let’s make a start, shall we?” I grabbed my bag as a scream came from the bathroom. Dropping my bag, I ran to the source. “You okay?” I asked Jagger who was holding his foot.