by J. L. Saint
Lauren shook off her thoughts and explained to Angie what the problem was. “Bill said he’d be back for the boys’ birthday and they’re expecting him. I called his secretary earlier today and she hasn’t heard from him. Neither has anyone else. It’s been over two weeks since he left and he hasn’t called once. How can he disappoint them like this?”
Angie set her hand on Lauren’s. “I wish I could wave a magic wand and fix it.”
“Me too.” Lauren focused her gaze on Matt and Mitch. They were laughing, their blond hair gleaming like spun gold, their smiles bright. If she didn’t hear from Bill in the next hour, she would have to tell the boys that their father had a business problem and couldn’t make it. Then they’d want to talk to him and they’d demand to know when he was coming back. He was their father and this was their birthday. She glanced at her watch and faced what she’d been avoiding all day. It was an hour later in Sao Paulo. Last month Bill had called the boys from there. The name Milania Carridas had shown on the caller ID that night.
Google revealed quite a bit about the Brazilian actress and her lush curves, right down to what amounted to a G-string and pasties on her Double-D’s. To top it off, a video popped up of Milania with Bill at a high-end Brazilian resort doing the tango up close and personal on the dance floor that left no doubt they were doing the horizontal tango as well.
She resented this whole situation. Why should she hunt Bill down to remind him about his sons’ birthday? He was an adult and he should have to bear the brunt of his mistakes. But it wasn’t Bill who would hurt the most. It was Matt and Mitch. How could she not somehow make the effort to find out if Bill was there?
Yet the thought of calling made her ill.
“I’d castrate the toad too,” Angie added.
“Hmm?” Lauren blinked at Angie, surfacing from her dilemma.
“The toad. While I’m waving my magic wand to fix things, I’ll fix him too.”
Lauren’s half-laugh fizzled. “I’m mad enough to Bobbitt him and have been for a while. But being pissed off at Bill only makes things harder for the boys. I know they sense my anger, and I’m sure that’s making them more insecure.”
“Good. You be Ms. Responsible. Fortunately, I’m not under such constraints and can therefore express enough mad for both of us.”
Lauren shook her head. “Then by all means castrate the toad, but we’ll have to find him first.” She groaned then. “Which means someone should call Brazil and see if he’s there.”
“Call Double-D G-string?” Angie winced. “Ouch.”
“Yeah. Can you just shoot me now?”
Angie’s smile turned devilish. “I’ve an idea. I’ll call for you. I’ll tell her that MetroSouthern is considering an article on jet-setting couples, and that I saw her picture with the toad. Even if he’s not with her, she might have an idea of where he is. And you know she won’t turn down US exposure.”
Angie’s mother was the editor for the hip mag that featured who’s who in the new generation of business people and trendsetters in “Hotlanta”.
“You’d do that?”
“In a heartbeat. While I am at it, I’ll see if she can be bribed enough to strangle the toad with her G-string.”
“Have I told you lately that I love you?”
Angie held up her hand. “Not so fast with the feel good. There’s a catch.”
Lauren didn’t like the sound of this one. “What?”
“You must promise me that you’ll come to the next MetroSouthern soiree with me. The guys are good looking, dynamic business men with plenty of money. The next step for you is a date where you engage in conversation with an interesting man, even if you aren’t ready to jump into bed with him.”
Each month the MetroSouthern magazine held a gathering for people featured in the current issue and Angie had been nagging her to go since Bill waltzed out the door.
Lauren nodded. “How can I even consider dipping a toe into the dating pool again when I was so wrong about Bill? MetroSouthern men sound as if they’d only be more of the same.”
“Don’t throw out the whole barrel because of one rotten apple.”
“Yeah, well. I bit into that rotten apple, so you’ll have to forgive me if I’m not interested in having apple pie any time soon. I won’t attend the soiree, but I will promise to go out. How’s that?”
Angie narrowed her eyes. “On a date?”
Lauren winced then nodded, her mind quickly zeroing on how she could get around going on a “real” date.
“With who?” Angie demanded. “It’s only a deal if it is a date date. Not your cousin, a friend or that to-die-for gourmet cook pal from Faire Fureur. The only thing that lights his eyes up besides his masterpiece meals is a man.”
She blushed, because that exactly what she had in mind.
“So who?” Angie asked.
“I don’t know yet. Someone different. Someone who doesn’t remind me of Bill.”
Angie did the three finger thing again. “He must be hetero, single and between twenty-five and forty-five.”
“You don’t ask for much, do you?”
“Just wait. You haven’t heard anything yet. Those are the qualifications for a talking date. The criteria for a sex date are a lot more vigorous, pun intended. But we’ll worry about that one next month.”
Sex date? She didn’t do…she couldn’t just do…she couldn’t even think about…could she?
Her palms broke out in a sweat. Even though her restless nights stemmed from eighteen months of denying she was a woman didn’t mean she was ready for anything to change that.
She obviously sucked at judging character in men. She’d not only erred once, but twice. The boyfriend before Bill had been a mistake too, a big one, which had made Bill so Prince Charming-like in her mind. Yet neither mistake should translate into never taking a chance on a relationship again, right? That would be irrational. Just as irrational as her supposition that she could sustain herself on just being mom.
“Don’t look so serious.” Angie shook her head. “We’re talking in terms of casual not commitment.”
She didn’t do casual. Ever. Fortunately, a loud whoop saved her from having to reply, and she snapped her attention back to her sons. Hank lifted them off the pony, which meant that any second they’d be headed her way and Bill would surely be on their minds.
“Do we have a deal?” Angie pressed.
“This is blackmail, but yes.” Lauren smiled as the boys looked her way, their eyes shining. “It’s a deal. You’ll find her number on the desk calendar in my office. Top right hand side, written in red.” She’d find a way around Angie’s date plan.
“I’m on it.” Angie slid back her chair, taking off just as the boys reached the table.
“That was the bestest ride ever!” Mitch jumped up and down with excitement. “Did you see me, Mom? I rode like a real soldier.”
Lauren brushed back the hair from Mitch’s eyes. “Yes, I saw you. You rode like a pro.”
Mitch looked about the lawn and his smile fell flat. “Dad didn’t see, though. I wanted Dad to see the pony.”
“Yeah.” Matt’s brow furrowed in a deep frown. “Me too. Tell the pony man he can’t go until Dad comes.”
“I can’t do that, honey. The man must take the pony home so it can eat and rest.”
“But Dad has to!” they cried at the same time.
“Your father can see the pictures Aunt Angie took. You both know it wouldn’t be fair keeping the pony from resting after he’s worked so hard for you and your friends. I promise there are plenty of pictures to show your dad, even some of you two riding the pony together.”
Matt folded his arms across his chest in a symbol of manly independence. “I’m not going to sleep until Dad comes and sees the pictures. He pomised he would.” Then he looked up, a sheen of tears in his eyes. “Why isn’t he here yet?”
“He’s never here anymore,” muttered Mitch, looking down as he kicked at the grass with the toe of his sneaker
.
Lauren sighed. “I don’t know why he isn’t here. There could have been a plane delay. There could have been a business emergency. But I’ll make you a deal. You two can stay up as late as you want, only you must sit and watch a movie. No hide and seek with Sasha and Sam or War Zone.”
Both of their favorite games pretty much destroyed the house and led to hours of wild fun. After the party, Lauren wasn’t up for all of that tonight. Things had to settle down and get quiet. With luck they’d both be asleep before the movie ended.
“Just a little hide and seek?” asked Matt.
“Tomorrow. Not tonight. Now do we have a deal? Or do you two just want to go to bed at your usual time?”
“Deal!” they chimed.
“Then go say thank you and good night to all of your friends.”
The boys took off and Lauren leaned back in her chair. She’d only delayed and distracted them in regards to Bill, but the discussion had gone better than she expected. Signs that they resented their father’s absences were emerging, and if she wasn’t careful, their hurt could affect them for the rest of their lives.
Her parents had died in a car accident when she was sixteen. They’d been driving to pick her up from camp. And even though they had loved her, and they hadn’t left her on purpose, she’d still felt abandoned. That feeling sometimes reared an ugly head, especially since Bill walked out and her brother, Jason, had gone MIA.
Setting her thoughts aside, she pasted on a smile and joined Matt and Mitch for the thank-yous and good-byes. She’d picked the perfect day for her sons’ sixth birthday. There wasn’t a dark cloud in the sky, but plenty shadowed her heart.
Disaster struck after the last family left.
Sasha and Sam barreled out the back door as Angie exited. She heroically tried to keep them in, but was knocked aside as Sasha and Sam sprang straight for the pony, barking like hounds from hell. The pony jerked free from Hank then proved it could move like the wind and kick as it bucked like a Brahma bull through the open gate with her dogs on its heels.
Lauren yelled for Sasha and Sam as she took off running, but three people beat her into the front yard—Hank, Matt and Mitch. She gave up on the dogs, which by some miracle stayed out of range of the pony’s kicks, and started yelling for Matt and Mitch. Unfortunately, they were whooping so loud she didn’t think they could hear her. If they’d heard her and ignored her, then she’d ground them until their sixteenth birthdays.
Her worst fears took shape as Hank slipped in the grass and the boys ran past him. Twenty yards and the whole crew would hit the street, running like bats out of hell without a brain in their heads.
Oh, God.
Lauren yelled for the twins again. This time they looked back over their shoulders, saw her, and slowed slightly as they pointed at the pony and the dogs. From the fear in their faces, she knew they were saving their beloved pets from the now Godzilla-pony and wouldn’t likely stop until their mission was accomplished.
Suddenly the sprinkler system came on full force, shocking everyone with blasts of cold water—something that wasn’t scheduled to happen until four in the morning.
Matt and Mitch cried out in shock and came to a halt. Lauren could hardly see through the mist as she kept running, but as she neared the dark silhouettes of the twins, she found Sasha and Sam with them. The boys’ cry of surprise from the water blast had brought the Shepherds to them. She anchored a hand on each of their collars as Hank passed them, shouting for the pony named Clementine.
While she assessed his progress, worried that the pony would be hit by a car, the sprinklers cut off, bringing instant visibility. Hank had caught the reins, halting the pony about halfway into the street. Luckily no cars had been passing then.
Hank led the pony to the grass, faced her then stood staring at her. He looked shell-shocked, as if he’d been tossed from a Kansas-sized tornado. Water dripped from his hat and nose and plopped onto his drenched clothes that clung to a very fit body. Mud and grass had made their mark on his boots and she wondered if they were scarred for life. “Ma’am,” he drawled.
“Welcome to Oz,” she muttered.
“Is everyone all right?” Angie cried out as she splashed her way across the lawn and set a hand on Matt’s and Mitch’s shoulders. “I didn’t know what else to do and the sprinkler valve was right there.”
“You did well.” Lauren tugged gently on the dogs’ collars. Sasha and Sam dutifully sat. If the water hadn’t surprised and slowed the runaways, the results could have been very, very bad.
“You might change your mind about that.” Angie cleared her throat and looked pointedly downward twice. “Why don’t you take the beasts and the boys inside and I’ll help Hank?”
Lauren glanced down and nearly groaned aloud as a twinge of heat flushed through her. Her white sundress, white bra and white thong had become transparent, nipples to shadowed V. Hank was still staring, only he had more of a you-need-me-don’t-you look to him than the lost-in-Oz look she’d first thought. You’d think she was on Desperate Housewives or something. And, oh God, maybe she was—as in, appeared as if she was desperate.
Surely the heat was embarrassment only and not remotely connected to the fact that a man, albeit eight to ten years her junior, had looked at her with real want. Want that had disappeared a long time ago from Bill’s gaze and been replaced with impatience and disdain, unless of course he happened to be horny and she was conveniently near.
“Thanks.” Lauren’s voice caught in her throat, and came out as a strangled yelp. She gathered her courage, her entourage, and headed for the front door of her house. Her wet dress lay plastered to her backside and had to be just as see-through as the front.
While she appreciated Hank’s appeal, she wasn’t attracted to him. For her, even if everything else had been perfect, the age difference was a major killer. Yet a flood of feelings swamped her. She’d been so consumed with meeting Bill’s expectations in a wife and nurturing her premature babies into thriving kids that she’d lost herself somewhere.
The boys started asking questions about their father again and she forced her disturbing emotions to a back burner. Trying to ease their growing hurt, she asked them to help her get Sasha and Sam inside. They each latched onto a collar with her and helped her coax the dogs toward the house.
Within ten feet of the front door, Matt and Mitch squealed with delight and took off running. She nearly lost her grip on the dogs as they leaped to follow the boys. Two bright red packages sat on the porch.
“Hold up,” Lauren shouted before the boys reached the boxes. “Let me see who sent them first.” Call her paranoid, but in today’s world, everything should be suspect.
She wrestled Sasha and Sam inside the house and then examined the labels. Her heart pounded a bit faster when she saw Bill had sent them from Brazil. One was for Matt and the other for Mitch. They each grabbed their present and hopped up and down with joy.
“He didn’t forget.” Mitch smiled.
“Told you so.” Matt nodded as if he knew everything in the world, which pressed Mitch’s I’m-as-good-as-you-are button, and they were off.
“No, you didn’t.”
“Yes, I did.”
“I told YOU!”
“No, YOU didn’t!”
“Boys!” Too much sugar and too much excitement. “If you’re going to fight you might as well save the presents for tomorrow and go on to sleep tonight. Maybe you’ll enjoy them better in the morning.”
Matt and Mitch looked at her dumbfounded.
Before they could burst into tears or rebel, she smiled. “Ah, I don’t hear any more arguing. Good. Then maybe you aren’t too tired after all. So hurry up and change into dry pajamas and then you can open your presents and watch a movie. I’ll even make popcorn.”
They both nodded. She opened the door and they scrambled inside, immediately going for the stairs and their room. She hurried after them, knowing that she had about two-point-five seconds to get out of her wet clothes
before the twins descended.
Make that less. She was naked in the bathroom when the thunder of their feet came down the hall.
“Wait on the bed. And no jumping,” she warned as she jerked on sweats.
She could hear the bed springs squeaking and Sasha and Sam barking. The dogs knew Matt and Mitch weren’t supposed to jump on the bed. She opened the door and the twins plopped onto their butts, hair still flying up and mischief in their eyes. They had their presents clutched in their arms and their pajamas turned about every wrong way possible. Matt had his Thomas the Tank Engine underwear on the outside of his pajama pants.
Shaking her head, she let it all go. “Okay. Open the boxes!”
From a shower of Styrofoam peanuts, two Dale Earnhardt, Jr. #88 green racing cars emerged. The boys squealed in excitement and took off racing down the hall, sounding like the Daytona 500. Barking up a storm, the dogs were fast on their heels. Peanuts lay in their wake and Angie was nearly bowled over as she appeared at the top of the stairs.
It wouldn’t be a quiet evening after all.
Angie entered the bedroom and plopped down in the peanuts. “What was that? Greased lightning?”
“No, Dale Earnhardt, Jr. cars courtesy of Bill. He didn’t show but he didn’t forget after all.”
“Interesting. I talked to Double-D G-string.”
Lauren sat and blew at a peanut that had somehow landed in her hair. She already knew what she’d hear. Bill and the supermodel were slumming in a million dollar resort, surviving on caviar and champagne. Not that she cared anymore on her own account, but for the boys’ sake she did. “Give it to me straight.”
“She gave me all of her contact information and I promised to call her when we speak to Bill. He’s a week late for their date.”
Lauren snagged a red box and checked the postmark. It had been mailed from Sao Paulo, Brazil four days ago. “Maybe he’s dumped her for a Samba dancer.”
