The Underdogs: The Complete Series

by Stewart , Kate

  I can’t help my laugh. “Yes. And even if I’m laughing, I’m not happy. Let’s go.”

  We both burst through the front door and nearly trip over the bags of clothes and shoes on the porch.

  Dante rummages through the boxes, his face lighting up. “Size seven and a half! Are these for me?!”

  Eyes bulging, I look through the bags briefly before I put them into the entryway and attempt to lock the door, but Dante stalls me, tossing his shoes to the side of the porch and pulling one of the bags into his lap.

  “Can I put these on? Puh-lease?”

  Hiding, I turn to lock the door, wiping a stray tear away. Troy had to have dropped these off after his shift, leaving them at the door to avoid waking us and blowing his cover. Thoughtful.

  You hate him, Clarissa.

  “Mommy, can I try these?”

  “Of course.”

  “Where did they come from?”

  “Just something I ordered,” I say as he ties them, admiration clear in his features before we make our way down the porch steps.

  Dante looks up at me skeptically. “They weren’t in a package.”

  “New service.”

  He doesn’t believe me. I wouldn’t either. I’m a horrible liar. I climb in behind the wheel as Dante buckles in. “These are the kind I wanted for school, like Austin’s!” I had assumed Troy forgot or ignored my request for help with the clothes, but clearly, I was wrong because Dante now has hundreds of dollars’ worth of new gear. I look back at him, marveling at his animated face while trying not to burst into tears.

  “They’re so awesome.”

  Whoever said money can’t buy happiness, forgot what misery is like on piss-poor days. Unable to help myself, I glance at the house next door and see it’s lifeless from the outside. I want my anger back. I want it back so much. But gratitude is all I feel as we pull out of the drive.

  A large part of me does hate Troy, but for Dante, I’ll try.

  Troy

  It’s been three weeks since I’ve moved in next to Dante and I’ve made a little progress. Between my shifts at UPS, practice, school, and our first away game, I’ve had little time to do much more than catch Dante a few hours after school. I’m still the neighbor, so I can’t see him every day, but in doing what I can, I’ve made enough headway that my presence is no longer questionable but more routine. I’m hoping it’s a start. Clarissa has yet to look at me like I’m not shit on her shoe, but she’s no longer watching our every move. Dante comes over once in a while with permission to play Xbox with me. I make good with the time, careful with my words. “Take that, sucker,” Dante utters from his seat next to me, working the controls like a pro as I study him. We look so much alike it’s uncanny, and I take pride in that.

  Mom will never forgive you for this.

  I’ve never told anyone that I’m a father, not even my mother, who I’m closest to. I have a few reasons. The first is because I’m ashamed of what I’ve done. The second is that she very well would have reprimanded Clarissa for something that was entirely my fault. Pamela Jenner invented the phrase ‘mama bear,’ and in her eyes, her golden boy can do no wrong. But the most important reason is that if I told her, I know she would make it her mission to be a part of Dante’s life, and I have yet to earn that privilege for myself. I don’t want Clarissa to hate me more due to a confrontation with my mom because she is a force to be reckoned with. She’s my best friend, and when I finally do confess, I know it will irreparably break her heart. She’s missed nearly six years of her grandson’s life. But to be fair, so have I. Still, she won’t understand, and there’s no way she’ll ever fully forgive me.

  As with Clarissa, there will be no redemption, but I’ll try my damnedest to make amends with them both.

  “Did you know?”

  Dante eyes me from where he sits on the couch, his feet swinging.

  “Know what, little man?”

  He rolls his eyes. My eyes. His mother’s eyes. We both have the tricked-out blue. Clarissa’s are lighter. Maybe they’re hers. “The trick I just showed you.”

  “No, I didn’t. Good one.”

  “You weren’t even listening,” he grumbles.

  “Sorry. I was just wondering if you’re hungry?”

  He shrugs, his attention back on his game. “I could eat.”

  I shake my head. How does a five-year old speak like such an adult? His mother, that’s how. And I love that about her. She’s no bullshit. She wasn’t the night I met her. She’s brutally honest, and though she would never believe it now, aside from my lie and the fact that I lived for ball, I was myself with her. Dante commands respect, much like her, and much like my roommate who walks in the room, dumping his backpack on the floor.

  “Sup, guys?” Theo asks, making his way toward the couch.

  Dante’s eyes light up. “I showed Troy the trick you taught me.”

  “Yeah?” Theo asks, taking a seat next to him. I pass him my controller.

  “Grilled cheese?” I ask Dante.

  His eyes light up. “Yes, please!”

  Pride fills me. Dante has manners in abundance, though I can’t take any credit. Making my way to the kitchen, I hear Dante rambling to Theo.

  “Cup your balls, you’re going down.”

  Theo cracks up, and I do too. But I know Clarissa wouldn’t appreciate that language. Is this where I begin to parent? And if I do, will it break our new connection and embarrass him? His mother hasn’t given me any privileges yet, so I say nothing. That’s on her. Knowing what I do about Dante already, he wouldn’t take too kindly to discipline from a neighbor.

  Dante devours his first grilled cheese and damned near begs for another, so I make myself busy catering to him as he slides into easy conversation with Theo. I think on some level, it’s easier for Theo because he grew up with siblings. I’d been more of a loner up until high school when I started running and hit a growth spurt. High school was easy for me because ball paved the way. It’d been an avenue of wealth after I got my braces off and discovered my talent for catching and running with that pigskin in my hands. I developed then too, along with my taste for pussy and it was a whole different world. I ran with the sudden attention and popularity, especially with the ladies, like every other red-blooded male would, but I wasn’t as privileged as my friends. Always driving my mother’s beat-up Dodge around on the weekends rather than getting my own, so I took and took until I choked on greed. All of that ended the day that fiery redhead slapped it out of me.

  I deserved what I got. Karma and all of her friends, especially humility, came and made it known, a man is only as worthy as his last act.

  As much as I want to admit I’ve grown up, I do still partake when the pressure gets to be too much. But that’s got its own set of problems.

  The front door sounds and I glance at the clock knowing exactly who it is. She doesn’t let Dante hang for more than an hour or two without checking in. Opening the door, I see Clarissa waiting a few feet away as if she’s afraid to approach it. She might be a mama bear by nature, but she’s wary of me. I take note of her form-fitting blue sundress and pink painted toes.

  “Hey, you look beautiful.”

  She ignores my compliment, her eyes darting past my shoulder. “I, uh, was wondering if Dante could stay a little bit longer tonight?”

  “Of course. My shift doesn’t start until two.”

  “In the morning?”

  I nod.

  “You work nights?” She’s looking anywhere but at me.

  “I’m sorry, are we having a conversation?”

  Reluctantly her eyes meet mine, and I can’t help my smirk. I’m rewarded with a scowl. “You know how hard this is for me to ask.”

  “Sorry, but I’m just wondering why you’re having such a hard time looking at me.”

  “I have a date.” She swallows. “Well, not a date, kind of a date. An old friend from college. He wants to have a drink and catch up.”

  “Good for you. Go. I’ll tak
e good care of him.”

  She hesitates, glancing over my shoulder. “Just forget it. I can do this another time.”

  “What changed your mind in the five seconds since I agreed?”

  “I just…he hasn’t eaten dinner.”

  “I fed him already.”

  She gapes at me. “What?”

  “Grilled cheese.”

  She palms her forehead. “He’s lactose intolerant.”

  “Shit,” I glance back at Dante, who’s still mouthing off to Theo on the couch. “Do I need to take him to the doctor?”

  “No,” she sighs. “He knows better. You’ve been suckered.”

  “That’s my boy.”

  Her glare has me swallowing.

  “And there’s my hesitation. He’s probably going to run over you.”

  I lift my hand, “I think I can handle him.”

  “Do you?” The smile she’s sporting scares the hell out of me. She bites her lip and looks up at me through her lashes. “Good luck with that, neighbor.”

  “Have a good time on your date, not a date, old friend get together.”

  She rolls her eyes and sighs. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”

  “Sounds good.”

  I shut the door and mentally roll up my sleeves. This is my shot.

  “TROY!”

  I close my eyes and scrub my face with my hand as Theo chuckles from where he sits on the couch.

  “Bet you’re wishing you didn’t offer your child sitting services up so fast.”

  “How much shit can a five-year old have inside of them?” Grumbling, I take the steps back up to the bathroom and double tap on the door. “Sup, little man?”

  “I pooped again.”

  “Good on ya.”

  “I need you to wipe me.”

  “What? You’re old enough to wipe yourself. You did the last time, right?”

  “Mommy says I don’t do a good enough job when I have flare-ups.”

  “And I say you can do this, bud. And you might want to mention you’re allergic to cheese next time I tell you there is going to be cheese in your food.”

  “I need a wet wipe, not a lecture.”

  I glance at the ceiling. I’m officially my son’s bitch. “On it.” I hustle down to the kitchen and wet a wad of paper towels before hauling ass back upstairs.

  I double tap the door again.

  “Come in here,” Dante says, unaffected by the lack of privacy.

  “I’m good here.”

  “No way, I’m not getting up. I don’t want poop juice on my new shoes.”

  Holding my breath, I walk in the door where Dante sits swallowed by the rim of the toilet. He’s so small like I was at his age. I hand him the wet paper and step away.

  “You can stay,” he offers.

  “I’ll just wait outside.”

  “You need to check my butt.”

  I stand there as he painstakingly takes his time wiping his ass. He doesn’t want to deal with his mother’s disappointment any more than I do, and I get it. That redhead is fire. “I think I’ve got it.”

  Thank Christ.

  Dante gets up and turns to flush the toilet, and I jerk back in horror when I see the literal shit trailing from his ass down his legs.

  “Don’t move!” Gagging uncontrollably, I lift my T-shirt to cover my mouth and open the shower curtain before turning on the faucet.

  “What’s wrong?” Dante asks as he turns my way.

  “Don’t move, buddy. This is going to take some skill.”

  I’m still gagging, my T-shirt giving little aid due to the visual. It’s everywhere. I move him onto the rug, carefully stripping everything around the literal shit sandwich he’s made of himself. When his clothes are finally off, I lift him up by the arms and dispose of him in the shower, praying to God the water takes care of most of the debris.

  “I didn’t wipe good?”

  Dante looks up at me with innocent eyes, and I can’t help the tug in my chest as his lower lip quivers, but I’m gagging too much to console him.

  “We’ll,” gag, gag, gag, dry heave, “fix it.”

  I thank Christ Theo is high maintenance with his need for a removable shower head. I use it to get most of the crap off him before covering him in body wash. Shrouded from head to toe in suds, I can still see the shittastic mess running down his legs.

  “Okay, okay, I’ve been up against much bigger mountains. I scored a seventy-six-yard touchdown last week after hurdling a defensive end and a safety. I’ve got this.”

  Dante giggles, wiggling his butt as my gagging evokes another dry heave.

  “Don’t move means don’t move!”

  He frowns. “You’re bossy.”

  “Sorry,” I gag again. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay. You’ve got this,” he encourages, covered from head to toe in Old Spice body wash and shit. He looks over to me with a trust very few do, and inwardly, I melt at his eagerness to please me.

  “Thanks,” I say as I pull my sponge from the rack and begin to scrub him down. After a few minutes, I finally have him shit free, and get him out of the shower before I start toweling him off.

  Dante stands still, lifting his arms up and down to assist me, wiggling when my fingers dig into his armpits. “Ticklish, huh?”

  We give twin-like smiles to each other in the mirror. His laughter fades as he takes notice of our similarities. “Heyyy! You look like me!” His statement strikes me right in the chest.

  “I was here first, so maybe you look like me.”

  “People could think you’re my daddy.”

  My face is the picture of control when I ask him the question I already know the answer to. “What do you know about your daddy?”

  “I don’t know my daddy.”

  “You don’t know anything?”

  “Nope. Are we going to play Xbox again?” He’s already over the conversation, while inside, I’m fuming. He begins dressing as I pull out my phone and shoot off a text.

  Troy: We need to talk.

  Clarissa: Kind of in the middle of something.

  Troy: I’m aware, but we need to talk. Soon.

  Clarissa: Is Dante okay?

  Troy: Fine. He has diarrhea, but I don’t think he has much left in him.

  Clarissa: Is this what we need to talk about?

  Troy: Of course not. You think I would interrupt your date to talk about diarrhea?

  Clarissa: Aren’t you?

  Troy: Jesus, no. Can you cut me a break? I’m doing you a favor.

  Instantly, I know that was the wrong text to send. I’m his father. Watching him is not a favor. I just cut my own nose off to spite my face.

  Troy: I didn’t mean that. I’m happy about this. Spending time with him.

  Troy: Clarissa?

  Troy: Please don’t go postal. I didn’t mean that.

  Clarissa: I’m on my way.

  “Shi…crap,” I grunt as I dial her number, and she doesn’t answer.

  “What’s wrong?” Dante asks.

  Troy: Please don’t do this. I want my time with him.

  Clarissa: Fine. I’ll be back at 8:30.

  I just lost any leverage I had in feeling angry. I’ll have to choose another day to plead my case. He should know of me. What I did was wrong, but what she’s doing right now isn’t right, either.

  Clarissa retrieves him an hour later, and as I carry a sleeping Dante home, I notice her lips are swollen from kissing, there’s a bounce in her step and a light in her eyes. It’s then I know she’s hopeful. Hopeful that tonight was the start of something. A something she could never picture with me. For years I’ve watched her and feel in a way I know her, but in truth, I don’t. I’ve had a lot of time to conjure her up in my imagination, but that’s the extent of it. She could never look at me the way she did that night, and I’ve long since moved on from my selfish fantasies.

  I lay him down in his bed and pull his covers up before lingering at his bedroom door. It’s another parent thing
I haven’t had a chance to enjoy, and I take my time, watching him settle into position. I push down the resentment, because keeping the peace is more important for now, for him. Everything I do and will do from this moment forward will be for him.

  “How did it go?” Clarissa asks on a whisper.

  “He had an upset stomach most of the night, but pretty well.” I shut his door.

  “Keep it cracked.”

  I follow her instructions and turn to look at her. “So, I’m guessing the date went well.”

  Her crystalline blue eyes narrow. “None of your business.”

  I try and disguise the tick of my jaw. “You’re right. Goodnight.”

  She sighs as if drawing her patience. “Okay, I’m sorry. I’m not being fair. Thank you, sincerely, for the clothes and shoes.”

  “Don’t thank me. It’s part of my job.”

  She nods. “Right. Well, it was a relief for me, so can I thank you for that?”

  I grin. “Sure. And the date? Or are we not sharing yet?”

  “It went very well. For the first time in a long time, I agreed to another.”

  I tap my temple. “Yeah, it’s been a while, hasn’t it? What was the last guy’s name? He was a total douche.”

  She frowns. “Paul was not a douche. We just didn’t have a lot in common. And it’s weird you know these things.”

  “You refused to let me in. But you let me watch.”

  Her cheeks redden, and she turns and walks down the hall leading toward the front door. I can’t help but study her wavy crimson hair and skin—though sun-kissed—that’s pale in comparison. She’s incredibly beautiful and although only a foot away, entirely out of reach. “I felt safer.”

  I’m distracted, but I catch her whisper.

  “What?”

  She turns to me when she reaches the door and lets out a breath. “I felt safer knowing you were out there. He was so small then, and the lock was flimsy.”

  “Really?” It’s an olive branch, and I eagerly take it.

  “Yeah. When I saw your truck in the parking lot, I was able to sleep better.”

  She looks at me, curious. “You were always reading. Had your cabin light on. What were you reading?”