Baby Did a Bad Bad Thing (Hautboy Series Book 3)

by Anne Berkeley

  “I told you. Entertainment. My kids grew up and moved out. I needed something to do with all the time on my hands.”

  “Why don’t you take up knitting or quilting?”

  “Why don’t you?”

  “I'm not old. I just work here.”

  Mrs. O'Connor cut a scathing glare. "That is outright sass. You're supposed to have respect for your elders."

  “It's not sass; it's fact. When you're more worried about age-derived vaginal dryness than shaving your legs before a date, you know your old.”

  “Old is when you need to worry about whether you should leave you teeth in or out of your mouth before—”

  “Don't say it!" I warned. "I really don't need to hear the rest of that sentence.”

  “I still have all my teeth.”

  “I wouldn't have slept tonight without knowing that.” Another elderly patient from the independent community stared warily as we passed him in the hall. “Beware, Mr. Gibson, Mrs. O’Connor still has all of her teeth.”

  Mrs. O'Connor chortled, causing Mr. Gibson to shake his head. "Young kids."

  “Hear that?” Mrs. O’Connor tugged on my sleeve as if she didn’t already have my full attention. “Mr. Gibson called me young.”

  “Mr. Gibson is ninety-six. Everyone’s young by his standards.”

  The elevator bell pinged. Mrs. O’Connor and I rushed to catch the door before it closed. Stepping into the car, I held the door with my foot and pushed the button for the ground floor.

  “It’s not so bad here,” Mrs. O’Connor admitted. “I take aquatics twice a week. Thai Chi. Bocce Ball. Pottery club. Stained glass club. Poker isn’t as fun as it was in the younger days when we used to play for clothing, but we’re probably better off without the excitement. I’ve seen most of ‘em in the pool. They’re not much to look at.”

  I was still laughing when the elevator door opened. We stepped into the main lobby and stood off to the side. “So you're not just the gossip queen, you're the socialite too.”

  The smile fell from Mrs. O'Connor's face. She clutched my hand in hers. For seventy years old, she had a solid grip. “I would never repeat a word you said to me in confidence.”

  Guilt immediately ensued. I squeezed her hand. “People tend to jump to conclusions because I keep to myself, but there's nothing to tell. I come from a large family, so I value my space. That’s all.”

  Mrs. O’Connor stared hard for a moment. “All right. Don’t mind me. Like I said, I have too much time on my hands, and you remind me of my granddaughter. It’s been a while since we’ve talked. I guess I’m missing her.”

  Well if that didn’t tug on my heartstrings. The woman was lonely. How was I supposed to leave her behind when she was staring up at me like a puppy in a pet store? She was all brown eyes and wrinkles, a fucking sharpei, but much, much prettier, and with much less hair.

  “He was a doctor,” I said. I could give her that much. Jake was still raw. I couldn’t talk about him yet. “We’re not supposed to fraternize with coworkers. If things don’t end amicably…you know how that goes.”

  “So things didn’t end amicably.”

  “No.”

  “And you ended up here.”

  Lifting my shoulders, I gave an indifferent shrug. “Now you know the story.”

  “I can see why you like to keep that under wraps.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Your secret’s safe with me.” Patting my hand, she let it go. “As far as the girls are concerned, you came from a large family and your value your space.”

  “Thank you. I’d appreciate that.”

  “You’re a good kid. Sounds like you got the short end of the stick.”

  “No, it was deserved. I knew better than to sleep with him. I knew better than to react unprofessionally at work too. I did it anyhow.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I walked in on him with another woman. I took all of his stuff and hers, and tossed it down the laundry chute so they couldn’t leave the room without making a scene.”

  Mrs. O’Connor barked in laughter, garnering the attention of everyone in the lobby for a brief moment. “That a girl! I knew I liked you!” Placing her hand over her chest, she tried to suppress her amusement. “Go on—get out of here. Get your hair done. Take Camilla up on her offer. Have a few drinks. Find yourself a man to ease your troubles for a few hours.”

  I had paperwork to do, so I didn’t actually leave the office for an hour. I spent an another hour at the salon, reclining against a shampoo bowl, my hair saturated with conditioner while my stylist maintained my nails. I had them lacquered with a french manicure, foregoing a flashy color for a more subdued look that matched my mood. I should’ve went with black.

  By the time I pulled into the parking lot of my apartment, it was already seven. That gave me just enough time to grab something to eat, change my clothes, and apply some makeup.

  Unfortunately, Pax’s car was sitting beside my parking space like a fucking harbinger. I briefly considered going for a short drive in hopes he left while I was gone. It worked with Peter often enough. Unlike Peter, however, Pax was virtually unshakable when on a mission. He probably came armed with a thermos of coffee and a box of crullers to hold him over until dawn.

  With reluctance, I coasted into my parking spot and shut my car off. Pax lifted his head from the headrest and turned in my direction. As recognition set in, he zipped up his jacket and climbed out of his car. Steeling myself, I met him on the sidewalk in front of my door.

  “You might be angry with Peter,” he started, “but that doesn’t mean you have to blow the rest of us off.”

  “I started a new job. I’ve been busy.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Go away, Pax. If I wanted to hear your shit, I would’ve called.”

  “That’s the point. You haven’t called. You haven’t answered your landline. You haven’t replaced your cell phone. You even had your locks changed.”

  “My locks are none of your business. I never gave you a key. I gave Peter a key, and that was obviously a mistake. It was for emergencies only, like when I lock myself out. It wasn’t an open invitation to use the place as your crash pad when the two of you are too drunk to make it home from Trum’s. So fuck off. I’m done being used.”

  “I never realized it was an issue.”

  “Then you need to clean your ears out or pay better attention. I’ve repeatedly told you it wasn’t cool to help yourself to my food and utilities. You don’t offer a cent to contribute toward the bills.”

  “If you needed to borrow some money, all you had to do was ask.”

  “I don’t need to borrow any money. Borrowing money would entail paying you back. I’m not paying you back for what you and Peter have used.”

  “Point taken. Though it’s moot since you’ve changed the locks.”

  “I can’t believe you’re indignant about that.”

  “We’re family.”

  “I don’t have a key to your place.” I held my hand up, halting whatever he was going to say. “I don’t want a key to your place. Ew. I’ve seen your bedroom. No thanks.” Shoving my key into the lock, I turned the knob and kicked the door open. Pax followed me inside. “That wasn’t my point at all.”

  “Peter told me a few weeks ago that you’d argued about it, but I never knew you felt this way.”

  “I’m not a kid anymore. This isn’t a dorm. It’s my home. I moved out so that I could avoid you people except for the major holidays of the year.” Dropping my keys onto the console table, I headed into the bedroom and began rooting through my clothes for something to wear.

  “Nice.”

  “It’s my place. What if I want to walk around naked after I paint my nails?”

  “Why—”

  “What if I have a guy over? What if we’re having sex on the sofa or the kitchen counter? Do you really want to walk in on that?”

  Exhaling heavily, Pax shook his head, dispelling the notion. “Why the fuck a
m I even here? This is Peter’s god damn fight.”

  “Because I’m not talking to Peter.”

  “Paisley, you know he didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “Figures you would take his side.” No surprise there. The two were thick as thieves. Twiddle dee and Twiddle dumb.

  “He got offered the chance of a lifetime,” Pax pressed. “That’s not something you pass up.”

  “Of course not. God forbid he put my happiness before his own.” Yanking my red tube-dress off the hanger, I dropped it onto the bed, and retrieved my matching thongs from the drawer. “No, he does what he always does; he inserts himself into my life and overshadows everything until I’m nothing but a second thought.”

  “Where are you going?” Pax asked, staring at my thong with utter disgust. Reaching his finger into the collar of his shirt, he pulled it away from his neck, his face going red.

  “Out with some girls from work.” My tone brooked no argument.

  “In that?” God, was he stupid.

  “Pax, go home.”

  “I’m sorry! You’re still my little sister!”

  “They’re underwear, Pax! What the hell!”

  Pax arched his back, his teeth set on edge. It was like something was poking him, something like a knife. His sucked a sharp breath through his teeth.

  “What’s wrong with you?”

  “You didn’t used to wear shit like that before,” he argued, ignoring me. “I know; I used to give you wedgies. You wore normal ones.”

  “Because that’s all mom bought me. I’m not discussing my underwear with you. Now quit being a weirdo and go home.”

  “Fucking fine.” Reaching into his jacket, he pulled something out. Something furry. It let a distinct and unmistakable ‘mew.’ “Take this. I don’t even like the guy. I don’t know why I got stuck doing his ass-kissing.”

  “What is that?”

  “A fucking cat. A baby one.” Pulling its claws gently from his shirt, he disengaged it from his body, and held it out toward me. Its tiny legs stuck out in every direction. It let out a louder, longer mew.

  “I don’t want that! Who gave you the thing?”

  “Who do you think—Jake Whalen.”

  The name hit me like a slap in the face. I winced over the slice of pain it evoked. “No. Absolutely not. Take it back.”

  “This is a three-thousand-dollar cat, Paisley. It’s from a reputable breeder. You can’t just return them to the store like a pair of candlesticks.”

  “I didn’t buy it. He did. I don’t want it.” Pacing away, I folded my arms across my chest. I didn’t want anything from him. Was it some kind of consolation gift? An apology? Fuck him.

  “I’m not taking it back. That’s on you.”

  “I just started a new job, Pax! What am I supposed to do with it while I’m at work all day? I can’t leave it here alone that long!”

  “You know what? I don’t care. That’s your problem.” Crouching down, he placed it on the floor. “It’s yours now. See you.”

  “Pax!” I shouted as he walked out the door. I quickly scooped the kitten off the carpet and chased him down the stairs. “Pax! Come on!”

  Ignoring me, he opened the passenger side door and pulled a bag from the floor of his car. As he crossed to the driver’s side, he dropped the bag onto the sidewalk at my feet. “I told him I’d give you the cat, and that was it, because personally, I hope you don’t forgive him that easily. You’re my little sister. You should make him grovel a little.”

  Jesus. Coming from Pax, that was practically a blessing. What the hell could Jake have said to him? It didn’t matter. I wasn’t a fool.

  Pax climbed into his car and pulled away. As his headlights swept across the parking lot, I caught a flash of two familiar figures standing along the row of trees. Stupidly, I shouted, “Hey!” and gave chase, power walking toward them with fury in my stride. The two took off into the trees, and none too quietly. I followed the trail of snapping twigs into the next courtyard. They were running by then, ducking around the next building. I abandoned my pursuit when I heard Carter’s guffaw, followed by the peeling of tires.

  “Idiots.”

  The kitten mewed loudly, climbing up my chest, its nails impaled in my skin. I detached it from myself and cradled it securely in my arms. I suppose I hadn’t put forth my best first impression, because it immediately began heading for higher ground again. It ended up tucking itself under my chin where I could feel it purring softly.

  “Don’t get attached,” I warned it, as if it could understand. “You’re not staying.” I made my way back to my apartment, stopping to pick up the bag Pax had left along the way.

  Inside, I locked the front door, and detached the kitten one more time. Holding it at arm’s length, I took a long gander. The thing was a ball of orange fur, flat ears, with eyes as large as saucers. I could see myself in their mirror-like reflection. That’s how large they were.

  “Fuck.”

  I was so keeping it.

  “I hate you, Jake Whalen.”

  Placing the kitten on the floor, I left it to explore the apartment. He wandered under the coffee table on slightly wobbly legs. He…I’d have to check that.

  Grabbing the bag from beside the door, I set it at my feet. Inside, I found a small litterbox, a container of litter, a bag of dry cat food and a few cans of wet. A few small, silky mouse toys with bells inside. Two ceramic bowls with footprints on the bottoms. And a white envelope addressed to Paisley.

  Sliding my finger under the edge, I ripped it open and pulled out a white sheet of paper. A gift card slid out. No amount was disclosed. I unfolded the letter and read Jake’s tidy scrawl.

  P.S.

  This should cover the vet bills and what supplies you’ll need.

  Love, Jake.

  Love, Jake. Fucker.

  I ripped up the letter and tossed it into the bag.

  Not even an apology.

  Asshole. What a complete asshole.

  Tearing open the bag of litter I poured the contents into the litter pan. As if I called it by name, the kitten came trotting over. He took a try or two to scale the edge of the pan. He clearly knew what it was used for, because he squatted, sort of, and tinkled.

  Unsure if I was supposed to praise him, I waited until he was finished, and gave him a scratch behind the ear. “Good kitty.”

  Looking up at me, he mewed.

  Those fucking eyes killed me. I was a slave to his whims.

  Curious, I ripped the bag of food open and sprinkled a little into the bowl. He sniffed at it, but showed little interest. Grabbing the water bowl from the floor, I went to the sink to fill it. When I returned, the kitten was making its way into the kitchen, following me. I sat the bowl of water beside the food and the litter pan, in the center of my living room. Mewing excessively, the kitten followed me back into the living room and over to the bowl of water. It lapped at it a little, and then went back to exploring.

  Standing there watching, I wondered if I was supposed to childproof—or kittenproof, in my case—the apartment. Would it chew on the power cords? What could it get into? Did I have anything laying around that would cause it harm? What was I supposed to do with the thing while I went out? What was I supposed to do with the thing while I was at work?

  A muffled chirp came from the direction of my console table. I glanced over to find a small white box resting beside the lamp. I crossed the room and picked it up. It was a new cell phone. Prying the box open, the air suctioned and made a farting sound. I dropped the lid onto the table and lifted the phone from the base. There was a message from Pax. I knew because it said Pax.

  The phones from me. Don’t break it.

  Swiping the screen, I pulled up the contacts list. My parents number was already added, as well as Peter and Patrick’s. And Cooper, Tate, Em, and Jake’s. Tapping Pax’s name, I placed the phone to my ear. Pax answered with a succinct, “Yeah.”

  “I can get my own cell phone.”

  “I did
it for you. You’re on my family plan. It’s only another few dollars a month, but you know what? Since I owe you for the utilities I use and the food I eat, I’ll cover the bill.”

  “That’s so generous.”

  “That’s what family is for.”

  “You’re not getting a key to my place.”

  “My gift was not meant as bribery in any way. I’m insulted.”

  Glancing down at the console, my face reddened. “Where’re my keys, Pax?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I left them sitting on the console, right where you left the cell phone.”

  “Maybe they fell on the floor.”

  Doubtfully, I bent down and looked under the table. They weren’t there. I could feel my blood pressure rising. “I need my keys, Pax.”

  “I’m sure they’ll show up.”

  I’m sure they would too. As soon as he returned them. Taking a deep breath, I left it out slowly. I’d buy a new knob. I replaced it once, I could do it again. All I needed was a screwdriver. In the meantime, I had a spare set.

  Besides, I had bigger fish to fry. “Speaking of family—how could you take his side? You brought him to my house! I saw them by the trees.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I agreed to deliver the cat. Nothing more. If he came here with his friends, he did it on his own. I deny any involvement.”

  “I don’t want this cat.”

  “Sorry, I’m not a delivery service. I don’t do returns.”

  “I don’t know anything about cats, Pax! What am I supposed to do with this thing? I’m supposed to go out! I don’t even know if I can leave it alone!”

  “So stay home.” The line went dead on the other end.

  Brothers sucked.

  I knew one of three things. One: Pax was going to make a copy of my house key. Two: wanting me to stay home had nothing to do with the cat. Three: it had everything to do with the red dress and thong underwear. Ok, four: Jake had Peter and Pax helping him.

  Chapter 19

  “He gave me a kitten,” I wondered aloud. I’d had a few drinks while pondering his motives. “What the fuck is that about?”