Deja Vu: A Romantic Comedy

by Sosie Frost

  Routines.

  Were.

  Awesome.

  Who knew six months old was such a magical time.

  Yes, I was relegated to a schedule.

  And yes, if I deviated from said schedule there was hell to pay and leaks to spring, but a good nursing bra and a full night’s sleep was the key to mastering this crazy game called motherhood.

  Shepard wasn’t in my bed when I woke, but I heard him in the kitchen. I grabbed a robe and snuck through the hall, watching as he shared his breakfast with Clue, delighting the baby with smiles and tickles.

  With him, it just came…naturally.

  Clue loved him, and she screeched her demands for good morning cuddles, kisses, and the inevitable diaper change. She pounded on the high chair and opened her mouth wide, wide, wide for a scoop of whatever baby food he had picked for her this morning.

  “Applesauce, yum!” Shepard offered her a spoonful.

  She took it, tasted it, retched, then battled at the spoon.

  Shepard glanced at the label. “What’s wrong, Clue? It’s apples. Apples are yummy.”

  The spoon didn’t even get close. Clue sucker punched the air and cast away the food. Shepard frowned.

  “I know, but your momma’s still sleeping. I’ll get you something from the tap after breakfast. For now, just take a bite for me…see?” He scooped a helping and took a bite himself. His face pinched, and he reflexively gagged. “Jesus. This is what you’re supposed to eat?”

  Clue giggled, blowing a victorious spit-bubble as Shepard reluctantly swallowed. She reached for her binkie but offered it to him instead. He took it, pretending to gobble it up, and then presented it back to her with a grin. Clue squealed in delight.

  “Ba ba ieeee!”

  “That’s right.” Shepard retrieved another jar of baby food from the cabinet and tried it before offering her a spoonful. “See if you like this more.”

  She squealed as she saw me in the doorway, but Shepard hadn’t noticed, too focused on the task at hand. Clue scrunched her nose as the spoon pressed to her mouth, but she mimicked Shepard’s smile, and the bite slipped in.

  She smacked her lips, but the food stayed down. Quite the accomplishment.

  “See. I wouldn’t mislead you,” he said. “You trust me, right?”

  “Abababa.”

  “Not baba.” Shepard gave her a kiss. “How about…Dada?”

  My heart fluttered, and the rush of shock and delight buzzed through me.

  I bit my lip, and Shepard nodded as Clue took another offered bite.

  “That’s right. Can you say Dada?”

  Clue snorted. “Lahhh.”

  “Dada!”

  “Lahh!”

  “Once more. I’m Dada. Say Dada!”

  “Lahh ahh ahh!”

  I laughed. “She said…not without her lawyer present.”

  Shepard leapt from the chair with a muffled profanity. The jar of pureed mangos went flying, crashing against the floor and mooshing the fruit even more under his boot.

  “Jesus, Evie.” Shepard scratched his beard. “Scared the hell out of me.”

  “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  Clue buzzed her lips and bounced halfway out of her high chair to get to me. I leaned down and gave her a sloppy path of kisses across her cheeks. Then I turned to Shepard.

  His smile was sheepish, just the kind I wanted to have for myself.

  I murmured over his lips. “Dada, huh?”

  “I just thought…I mean…I didn’t want to overstep my bounds.”

  “I like it. The last thing I want to do is force you into anything, but…” I winked at the baby. “Clue and I are a package deal.”

  “Two for one?” Shepard stole another kiss. “I’m a man with an eye for a bargain.”

  “Double the trouble.”

  “I prefer…twice as nice.”

  “Aren’t you sweet?”

  “You haven’t seen sweet yet.” Shepard’s lips teased over my chin, my neck, my shoulder peeking from the robe. “Just wait.”

  “I’m not a patient person.”

  “You’ll wait for this.” He pulled away as Clue fussed, her arms raised toward me. He reached her first, giving her a goodbye hug. “Better get to work.”

  “Already?”

  “Big day.” He shook his head. “Bigger case. I might be a little late.”

  Oh, that was familiar. One week with Shepard, and it felt like we’d been together for years. I expected many a late night from Detective Novak.

  “I’ll be home before she goes to bed. I promise you that, Evie. I’ll always be there to tuck her in.”

  I liked that. “That sounds nice, though I’m hoping you’ll be there to tuck me in.”

  He wagged a finger. “Bad girl. Naughty, naughty girl.”

  “Nothing like taking your work home with you.”

  “I knew I’d find a use for those handcuffs.”

  I smirked. “I like their intended use already.”

  Shepard adjusted his slacks. “I’m outta here before you make me late for work.”

  “I’ll see you tonight.”

  “Damn right.”

  The door closed behind him. Clue screeched. I turned and sighed.

  “Don’t tell me you liked those mangos?” I retrieved the jar and cleaned up the mess, sniffing with a cautious nose over the food. It wasn’t bad. “I’m much more of a pineapple girl myself. I don’t think I had many mangos growing up.”

  Clue eagerly awaited her next spoonful. I dished it to her and shrugged. “Not sure what I liked, actually. Not even sure what I had growing up.”

  Or once I was a teenager.

  Or adult.

  For as much as I wanted to keep forgetting that part of my life, the days that passed since Darnell’s untimely visit only made the encounter all that clearer.

  Though I kept the chain on the door and informed the doorman to refuse Darnell entry, I didn’t feel unsafe. Hell, I no longer thought Darnell even wanted money.

  It was almost like…

  He was angry with me.

  Like he wanted to humiliate me.

  Shepard had insisted that I forget everything Darnell said, but his words picked at me, jabbing my thoughts, rattling around in a mind empty of a past that might have muffled those words.

  Something wasn’t right about what had happened.

  Darnell wasn’t Clue’s father. And no bartender could make a fuzzy navel strong enough to convince me to sleep with him.

  But he’d known things. Granna. The neighborhood.

  My name?

  Clue thoughtfully deliberated on her last bite of the mango. The verdict was in, and the mangos were out. She spat the breakfast Exorcist style, and I rubbed her mouth and chin with her bib.

  “Why would he have called me Evie?” I asked her. Clue slapped the high chair table. “If he wanted to lie to me, why not give me a fake name? Even he wasn’t dumb enough to repeat the Evie he heard on the news.”

  Clue agreed with a mumble.

  “And the nurses only called me Evie because they found me on Evie Street.”

  The baby nodded. “Abababa.”

  She opened her mouth for another spoonful. This one didn’t make it. I stared at the jar. “But I’ve been to Evie Street. Nothing’s there. It’s a commercial area. Just…banks and a Jimmy Johns sandwiches. Couple printing shops. I think there was an antique dealer. Call me crazy, Clue, but that’s not where I would have lived.”

  “Eeeee um um um.”

  “And if I was nine months pregnant...how far would I really have waddled for an ice cream sandwich?”

  These were questions Clue refused to answer.

  Damn it. I didn’t want to know the past anymore. Nothing waited for me there. Only bad neighborhoods and worse situations.

  There was no happiness, no family, and certainly no one like Shepard there telling my baby to call him Dada.

  So why did it matter so much to me?

  The an
swer was obvious. Something was wrong with the story.

  Something important.

  Something that we all had missed.

  I fed and dressed Clue, quickly packing a small diaper bag for her. Inside, I tucked a one-hundred-dollar bill, a notebook, and my phone, centered on a map of the city—specifically Evie Street.

  Clue liked walks, which was good, but Evie street was just as confusing now as it had been the first two times I’d investigated it.

  No residential buildings on the street, no homes, no places that felt familiar at all.

  So I crossed to the next block. Frankie Street. Then Gretta. Then Henry.

  More commercial areas—in fact, the buildings looked bigger, prettier, newer.

  If I didn’t have a fiancé far along into the pregnancy, I doubted I could have afforded a home in the nicer areas of the city, even if I had escaped my childhood digs.

  So where did that leave me?

  Hungry. Confused. And with blisters on my feet.

  Fortunately, I didn’t have to search for the answer.

  It drove to me.

  The tinny, whiney music was familiar. I had been dreaming of it almost every night since the accident.

  Turkey in the Straw.

  An ice cream truck patrolled the streets, crawling along the boulevard and scanning for any greedy kids with a dollar to spare. The white truck plastered brightly colored confections on the side, and a grinning driver in a pin-stripe suit and paper hat waved to those who stopped and begged for a treat.

  He was exactly who I needed to talk to.

  I crossed the street, waiting in the back of the line while the sugar rushed the kids out of my path. The man leaned out of the window, gave me a wink, and grinned at Clue.

  “She looks a little young for an ice cream…but I bet Momma could use a treat!”

  “Actually…” I pulled the stroller closer. “I could use a little information.”

  The ice cream man stiffened, his smile faltering. “Don’t have any of that. Do have plenty of Fudgesicles.”

  “Questions first. Treats later.”

  “Lady, I got a busy route to run here—”

  “Do you remember hearing about an accident involving a truck and a pregnant woman six months ago?”

  Strange to see an ice cream man sweat, but his brow instantly beaded. “Don’t know what you’re talking about. You want some ice cream or not?”

  I didn’t like his game. He glanced out his windows, shifted in his seat, lowered his voice.

  “I might want some ice cream…” I pulled out the hundred-dollar bill. “How much will this get me?”

  “Depends on what you want.”

  “Tell me what happened to the pregnant woman who got hit by the truck.”

  “Gonna need a lot more than that to get me to talk.”

  “Look Scooter Crunch, I’m onto you.” I pushed the bill closer. “Take the money. Tell me what you know. We’ll both go our separate ways.”

  “I got nothing to say.”

  “I think you do. And I think you’re going to tell me.”

  “Why?”

  I sneered. “Because I’m the one who got hit that day, Push Pop. And now I got this song in my head that’s been playing over and over for the past six months…”

  “Aw shit.”

  “Let me ask you—do your ears hang low, Klondike?”

  “I got nothing to say.”

  “Do they wobble to and fro?”

  “Lady, look—”

  “Can you tie them in a goddamn knot?”

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” The ice cream man ripped his hat off. He leaned out the window and hissed at me. “Not here. We can’t talk here.”

  Jackpot.

  I patted my diaper bag and held his stare. “I got extra diapers and nowhere I gotta be. Name the place.”

  “I can’t be seen with you.”

  “Then we got a problem.”

  He scowled and pointed across the street, to a narrow alley surrounded by red brick buildings. “Over there. Make it quick.”

  Not sure how subtle he planned on making this operation. The ice cream truck pulled into the alley, barely large enough to contain it. He pulled the break, and the rotation Caution, Children! Sign scraped the wall. He slapped at his ignition, but the music still tinkled, echoing into the street. He couldn’t turn it off, but Pop! Goes The Weasel was a bit more subtle. At least we could talk alone.

  It was time to learn just how low these ears hung.

  And how sticky this conspiracy got.

  “Who sent you?” The ice cream man jumped out of his truck. “Was it Frozen Frankie?”

  I frowned. “No one sent me.”

  “Bullshit. It was Icy Jim. He knows, doesn’t he?”

  “About the accident?”

  “Fuck.” He slammed a hand against the bricks. “I knew it’d get out.”

  “Of course it got out…” I said. “The police were called.”

  “The police?” He laughed. “You think I’m worried about the police?”

  “Or a lawsuit.”

  He snickered, his eyes narrowing. “Oh, little girl. You don’t got a clue what you’ve stumbled into.”

  I had a pretty good Clue, but she wasn’t much of a help now. I didn’t let him intimidate me.

  “You hit a pregnant woman on your route,” I said. “That’s what I’m interested in.”

  “And that’s the problem.” He leaned close. “It wasn’t my route. Now what do you know? What’s Icy Jim got on us?”

  “On us?”

  “Spill it. If he’s involved, we’re both fucked.”

  “I don’t know an Icy Jim,” I said.

  That news didn’t please him. He swore, running his hands through his hair. “Look lady. Why are you here?”

  Hell if I knew anymore. “I just need information. What happened the day of the accident? What happened on Evie Street?”

  “Evie Street?” His eyebrows scrunched. “Lady, I didn’t hit you on Evie Street.”

  My stomach twisted. “You didn’t?”

  “Look. Frozen Freddy owns these streets. Saves the primo routes for him. Schools. Parks. The high-class areas. You get me?”

  “No?”

  “You want a slice of this market, you gotta take what you can get. We fight over the scraps like dogs while Frozen Freddy and Icy Jim live like royalty.”

  “So…Dairy Queens?”

  “I did what I had to survive. The cream doesn’t pay well, but I love what I do. So yeah. I went outside my route. Picked up a little afternoon action on the juicier roads. I hit you over in Frozen Freddy’s territory. Clarissa Street. Shit got real. I bolted.”

  “What…did you do?”

  “Protected myself. Worked it out that the accident was back in my streets. Evie, Frankie, Gretta.”

  “But the police report—”

  “Favors get exchanged, and the cones don’t crumble. Gotta do what you gotta do to keep the chocolate syrup flowing.”

  “The police lied?”

  A car drove by. He panicked, leaping for the truck. I chased after him as best I could with a stroller.

  “Wait! We’re not done!”

  “You want anything more, talk to my insurance.” He pointed in my face. “But you stay the hell away from me, lady.”

  “Did you move me?” I asked. “Drive me to the other street? Did you tell the officer to lie?”

  “Do yourself a favor.” He hopped into the truck and tossed me an ice cream sandwich. “Be glad nothing bad happened. This is bigger than you and me.”

  “How? It’s just ice cream.”

  He laughed, starting the truck. “Don’t ask too many questions, Lady. These streets are as mean as they are sticky. Don’t try to find me again…I won’t be able to protect us if the story gets out and Frozen Freddy and Icy Jim learn where I really was that day.”

  He didn’t waste time. He threw the truck in reverse and busted out of the alley, the twinkling music oddly sinist
er as it echoed from the brick walls.

  I stared after him, clutching a melting ice cream sandwich.

  What the hell just happened?

  While I wasn’t keen on ducking an apparent confectionary mafia, the truth was just as damning for me as it was him.

  Did Shepard know my accident hadn’t happened on Evie Street?

  Jesus. The search for my apartment, my life, my name was undertaken on the wrong side of town.

  I still had a chance to discover who I was…

  I leaned against the wall, tossing the ice cream aside as Clue woke up and gave a little cry.

  For six months, I’d demanded answers. I finally had some…a trail. A lead…

  But I had no idea what secrets I’d find once I followed those clues.

  Or if I wanted to learn them.

  18

  “How about…Gretchen?”

  I nearly gagged. I pitched my fortune cookie at his head and threatened him with my chopsticks.

  “You take it back,” I said.

  “I think it’s a pretty name.”

  “Gretchen? Just hearing it has me wretchin’.”

  “It’s cute.”

  “And I said no the first time.”

  Shepard’s bite stopped three inches before his mouth. He lost control of the chopsticks and the chicken tumbled into his lap. “When?”

  I stabbed a piece of broccoli with the stick and hummed. “I don’t know. The first time you said Gretchen.”

  “When was that?”

  “Probably during the Stella, Bella, Raella debacle.”

  “Maybe.”

  I quieted. The name blinked into my mind. “Oh.”

  “What?”

  “I think…” I shook my head. “That was a memory…pre-you.”

  “Really?”

  It was gone as quick as it came. “Weird.”

  “Well, I agree with him. I like the name.”

  “Vetoed.” I tickled Clue under her chin. “I think you’re doomed to be Suzette forever.”

  “Suzie Clue.” Shepard opened another box of the Chinese. “Want some?”

  He spooned a bit of the noodles onto my plate. I poked at them with the chopsticks.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “Pad thai. Try it.”

  I generally trusted Shepard. This was one of the few times he betrayed that gift.

  I spat the noodles out. “Ew.”

  “Oh.” He nodded. “I forgot. You don’t like peanut sauces.”