“So let’s see,” Carter said, “where’s the damage?”
I stuck my tongue out—which was really beginning to hurt—though I knew that wasn’t what he wanted to see. He wanted to see my ink. Unfortunately, that was for Tate’s eyes only.
Rolling his eyes, Carter’s nose wrinkled. “Jesus, you two are made for each other.”
Smiling, I took the cup Tate offered me and sipped at the ice water. I had a feeling that’s all I would be able to eat for a few days. Already, my tongue was swelling. The barbell wasn’t as loose as it was an hour ago.
“When your tongues are stuck together,” Carter warned, “you won’t be laughing.”
“Where is it?” Tate inquired, searching for the telltale patch of gauze. “What did you get?” He was like a kid in a candy store, peeling back my hems to get a peek of where it was. I finally had to slap his hand away.
“You can’t see it yet!” I almost laughed at the pout on his face. “I can’t take the patch off for two hours. You know that.”
“At least tell me what it is!”
“It’s a surprise!” Dropping the mouthwash and the ointment into the basket of the stroller, I had to swat him away again. He continued as we made our way back to Main Street. I had to keep Jake and Carter between us just to get a moment’s peace.
“How was he, Carter?”
“A pain in the ass. He gets separation anxiety.”
“Really?” I said, stunned. “I’ve never heard that before. Everyone at the daycare always says he’s so well behaved.”
Carter smirked and jabbed his thumb at Tate. “Oh, I thought you meant him.”
“He was all, ‘What time is it?’” Jake expounded. “’Has it been an hour yet?’ Then he checked his phone about a dozen times to see if you called.”
“Fuck you both,” Tate scoffed. “I was taking pictures of the kid. Carter gave him chocolate ice—”
“I gave him vanilla. I bought myself chocolate. But he gave me those puppy eyes and kept begging. If you‘d seen it, you would’ve caved too. I chocowit…Wevy chocowit…”
Unable to help myself, I giggled. I had seen it, like a million times.
“I chocowit.” Rubbing his eyes, Levy blinked and took in his surroundings.
“Time to go,” Carter said quickly. “You’re done here, Coop, right? We’re done—we can go now? Jake, Tate, you done?”
“I’m done.”
“Me too.”
Carter clapped his hands together and pasted on a smile. “Great, I guess we can all go home. Hey, let’s go this way. So much less crowded. Look how spacious the sidewalks are.”
“But there were a few stores—”
“Nothing worth looking at,” Carter interjected. “We checked ‘em out. Junk. All junk. And so…mature.”
“Mature?” I inquired.
“You know…not kid friendly.”
Stopping, my hands slapped my thighs. “Oh Jesus, what did he do?”
“It was a disaster,” Jake confessed. “Carter gave the kid chocolate ice cream—”
“I couldn’t say no!” Carter snapped.
“There were clothes racks… and merchandise stands… and displays… and they were all within reach. The kid put his arms out and stuff just jumped into them. It was as if he was Noah and the stroller was the Ark.” Jake spread his arms wide, demonstrating with exaggeration, Levy’s exploits. “And they went in unto Levy into the ark, two and two of all merchandise, wherein is the chocolate cream of ice…”
I didn’t know if I should laugh or not. It seemed wrong, but I did anyhow.
“What a mess,” Jake continued, “A real mess. He used that shi—”
“Language.” The kid was awake and alert now. The ears were open.
“—stuff like a marker. He just held his hand out, and colored things in as we passed. That painting, that mirror, that scarf…they’re all missing something… Hey! I know! They could all use a little chocolate! There! That’s it! Now they’re just perfect!”
Awake now and enjoying Jake’s commentary, Levy cheered along. “Chocowit!” His nose scrunched up in his angelic smile. His tiny teeth gleamed in the sun, adorable and misleading.
“On a lighter note,” Carter spoke up, “if his poop is reddish tonight, don’t be alarmed. The cone was red velvet.”
“Thanks for the warning.”
“At least it wasn’t glitter or yarn.”
“Is no red,” Levy argued, peeking in his diaper. “I no poopie. I card.”
Sometimes, hell, most of the time, much of what Levy said didn’t make sense. His verbal skills were still hit or miss. “You what, Lev?”
“I card.”
Confused, I glanced at Carter, who was looking the other direction, as was Jake. “What are you saying, Lev? Carter?”
“Babe,” Tate mumbled. “That’s not what he’s saying.”
“What is he saying?”
Tate bugged his eyes at me and cocked his head to the side, as if I should get it, and suddenly it dawned on me. “I can’t believe this. I leave my kid with you for an hour and you’ve taught him how to say c-o-c-k.” It wasn’t a question.
“It wasn’t me!” Tate rebutted. “It was Carter!”
“It slipped!” Carter exclaimed. “It was an accident!”
“How does that just slip out while shopping in the middle of Main Street? Even if you were being derogatory, he wouldn’t know the context of how to use it!”
“Jake and I had to use the bathroom! We couldn’t leave him outside! It’s not like we could tie him to the light post and tell him to stay!”
“It’s not that big of a deal, Coop,” Tate intervened. “You’re thinking of it in a girl’s perspective. He’s going to learn this stuff sooner or later.”
“Later is better, Tate. He’s two. It’s not as if I had a little girl, I’d be calling her female parts by any crude slang terms. I mean, there’s an age for that stuff, like eighteen or twenty.”
“What would you call it?”
“That’s not the point! I can’t have him running around the daycare saying he has a c-o-c-k!”
“He won’t. He’s calling it a card.” Tate was grinning now, but fighting it for all he was worth. Jake and Carter found the subject amusing as well. Men.
“Fine,” I sighed, taking a mental step back. “Fine. Just don’t teach him any more bad words. That’s all I ask.”
“So we shouldn’t call it a d-i-c-k?” Carter inquired with a Cheshire grin.
“Or a w-e-i-n-e-r?” Jake added.
“S-h-l-o-n-g?”
“B-o-n-e-r?”
“M-e-a-t s-t-i-c-k?”
“B-a-l-o-n-e-y p-o-n-y?”
“How about p-e-n-i-s? Is that ok?”
“Ooohhh how bout s-h-a-f-t?” Carter asked. “That’s what they call it in all those smutty romance novels. He slipped his thick s-h-a-f-t into her dewy heat...”
Crickets rang out in the momentary silence.
“How would you know?” I asked, smiling my own Cheshire grin. “Have you actually read a romance novel before?” I just couldn’t picture it.
“Of course. That’s all my mom used to read. They were like the bible in her eyes. Christ, it was some of the first porn I’d read. Tate and I used to hide under the blankets at night with a flashlight reading the things.”
Impossibly, my grin grew wider. I looked from Carter to Tate. “You did not.”
“Once,” Tate admitted. “I don’t know how many Carter read.”
“Fuck you.”
“Oh. My. God!” I exclaimed, bitch-slapping Carter across the arm. “I can’t believe you, Carter! Am I going to have to wash your mouth out with soap?”
“It slipped!” said Carter, ducking away from me.
Levy, watching with rapt attention, pointed at Carter, forming an F with his mouth. I could see his front teeth set into his bottom lip. “Fff—”
“NO!” I snapped at him. It was the tone of a parent when extremely unhappy with their ch
ild’s behavior. Levy recognized it with a flinch, which turned the consonant into a whimper, and pushed his lips into a pout. “That’s a bad, bad word, Levy!”
Levy’s eyes brimmed with tears, his mouth curved down, his chin quivering around a wail. My heart swelled in my chest. I had to pick him up from the stroller, unable to bear the sound of his lament. He clung to me, wrapping his arms around my neck and his legs around my waist like a baby monkey. “Him bad?”
“That’s right,” I said, glaring at Carter. “Carter’s bad.”
For a few lengthy moments, we walked in silence. Slowly, Levy began to unwind from his embrace. Lifting his head, he rubbed his puffy eyes, wiping the tears from his lashes.
Carter, who had fallen behind us in shame, spoke up, breaking the silence. “My God that was devastating.”
“Tell me about it,” Jake agreed. “You should be ashamed, dude.”
Tate peeled Levy from my side, and lifted him over his head so that he could ride on his shoulders. This instantly erased any vestige of dismay from Levy’s expression.
Me, I wasn’t as consolable.
“Anyone who can put fear and shame into the hearts of men and children with their voice alone…you’re a good mom, Coop.”
“Thanks, Carter.”
“If I curse in front of your kid again, you can kick me in the b-a-l-l-s.”
Chapter 11
“I didn’t expect to see you so soon,” Em admitted, pulling me into an embrace. “Actually, I didn’t expect to ever see you again. I thought for sure you were going to run off with the rock star.”
“If the rock star had his way…” Tate trailed off at my expression and rolled his eyes. “I meant about coming back so soon, Coop. Don’t look so horrified.”
“I’m not!”
“You’re gaping like a fish out of water.” I knew he wasn’t mad, because he smiled and winked at Em. “I’m working on her. We’re starting with next weekend. She’s coming to my show with me in Jersey to see what it’s like on the road.”
“I never said I was coming.”
“Then I look forward to talking you into it.” For some reason, I didn’t think he had talking in mind. “I’ll take your stuff up,” he said with a smug grin. Swinging my bag over his shoulder, he held his hand out for Levy. “Come on Mini Cooper, let’s go hang.”
“Hang?” Levy echoed, taking Tate’s hand.
“Guy time. You and me. We’ll order some wings, watch some ball on TV, and have a beer. Well, I can have beer. You can have some juice on the rocks.”
Staring suspiciously at the rocks covering the driveway, Levy said, “I no want wocks in my juice.”
Tate sighed melodramatically and glanced over his shoulder at me. “You’ve so much to learn, Mini Cooper. Don’t worry, Tate’s gonna teach you to hang with the guys.”
“God give me strength.” Shaking my head, I winced. Em laughed, but muffled it with her hand when I unleashed the look of wrath upon her. “They taught him to say cock today.”
“Judging by your expression, I think it’s safe to say he won’t be saying it again.”
“I daresay not.”
“Oh, come on,” Em said, cuffing my arm, “it’s wonderful, Coop! Levy has a man in his life!”
“I know! I just never thought I’d reach the point where I needed to worry about the things Levy would pick up from him!”
“It’s nothing every other mother doesn’t go through, sweetie. There’s no reason to ditch him over it.”
“Who said I was ditching him?”
“Good God,” Em drawled, a slow smile creeping across her face, “You’re in love with him.”
This, I rolled my eyes at. It was a given. “He’s Tate Watkins, how could I not?”
“Have you told him?”
Flushing, a dopey smile spread across my face. “He said it first.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
“Because I’m so lovable?”
“Mm hmm,” said Em, doubtingly. She thought I was holding back still, that I was going to run. She stared for a moment, dithering on perusing the matter, and decided to leave it. “Well, perhaps you demonstrated your love with some alternative oral acknowledgement…?”
“Em!”
“Why else would you be talking so funny, Coop? Something’s obviously wrong with your tongue. Maybe you sprained it.”
Rolling my eyes, I stuck my tongue out at her. Like everyone else, Em gasped and made a scoffing sound. “How do you expect to sing with that in there?”
“I’m not. Tate wants me to come to his concert next weekend, so I won’t be singing. By the weekend after, I’ll have the shorter bar in.”
“Can’t you just take it out while you’re on stage?”
“Nope, Tate said it would close up. Tongues heal really fast.”
“Tate says…Jesus, did he pierce you himself?”
“No, but he has his tongue pierced too. He took his bar out before he went on stage once, and it started closing up by the time he was done.”
“Why…nevermind.” Em shook her head, dispelling whatever thought had crossed her mind. “How are you, Coop? You look ok, but how are you really?”
“Good…I’m good.”
“You saw your parents.”
Odd, I hadn’t told her that I saw my parents. “How did you know?”
Dropping her head, Em cradled her forehead in her hand and muttered something under her breath, low enough that I couldn’t hear.
“Are you ok?” She looked like she was having an aneurism, not that I’d ever seen someone have an aneurism. Perhaps it was just a migraine.
“Fine…um…Tate mentioned that he had called them when he called me to pack your things.”
“Oh.”
“I’m fine, sweetie. Tell me about yourself.”
“They wanted me to come home, naturally. But Tate mollified them with talk of bodyguards and around the clock protection.”
“The guy’s a godsend.”
“As good as it sounds it’s not going to happen.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s unrealistic.”
“You were almost murdered two days ago, Cooper!”
“I was attacked by someone with road rage!”
“You can’t be sure it wasn’t Grant.”
“Do you think I don’t know that!” I snapped. As always, my eyes clouded with moisture. It was an adverse effect of anger. “I’m trying to live a little. Isn’t that what you told me to do?”
Consolingly, she placed her hand on my forearm and squeezed. “Yes, Cooper, but I want you to be safe too. If you’re not going to accept help when it’s being offered, then at least take precautions elsewhere.”
She wanted me to learn to shoot. “Fine.” That much, I could do. Tate wouldn’t always be around to save the day. “Tomorrow, after work, we’ll go out back.” Mr. Craig had a stack of bales that he used for targets. I could spare an hour or two if it meant protecting Levy.
Despite my acquiescence, I had qualms over packing heat. My largest concern was keeping a gun in the house with Levy. I could stow it up high where he couldn’t reach it, or keep it in a lock box under the bed, but if the need to use it should arise, how would I get to it in time? Furthermore, could I even use the thing? Could I look Grant in the eye and pull the trigger? Could I take his life? If I couldn’t, he could ultimately turn the weapon on me.
If that didn’t cast a pall over the venture.
“Let’s play it by ear. I have to talk to Garrison, make sure he has time. He’s been busy round here the past few days. Haven’t seen him since Friday morning, actually.”
“I’m not entirely comfortable with this. I feel like a freakin’ vigilante.”
“There’s nothing wrong with protecting yourself, Cooper. You’re not going out and hunting the man down. This is entirely defensive. He’s coming after you.”
“It’s not just that…”
“We’re not going to just place a gun in your ha
nd. We’ll teach you safety through handling and storage. By the time we’re done, you’ll have respect and confidence when handling your weapon.”
“Geez, Em, you’re like the GI Jane of mother hens.”
“I don’t know,” Em demurred. “Maybe you’re right that Friday was a coincidence, but those photos left on your car weren’t. I just don’t want to see you or Levy get hurt.”
“I appreciate that.”
“Go on,” Em said, waving me off. “Go spend some time with your rock star before you return to the corporate world tomorrow. I’m going to see where Garrison’s been hiding.”
“Hey Em?” I said, walking backward toward the stairs. “Do you want to come with me to the concert this weekend? Carter’s sister, Jess, said she’d watch Levy.”
Em blurted a laugh. “A rock concert? Me? God, Coop, you slay me!”
“You’re not old, Em.”
“They’re a little heavy for my taste. But thanks for thinking of me.”
“Tim Mcgraw and Keith Urban more your speed?”
“Yeah, why do you say that?”
“Because they’re Mr. Craig’s speed too.”
“Oh! Get out of here you crazy kid,” Em grumbled, stalking off toward Mr. Craig’s house. “There’s nothing going on between us! I don’t know where you got that idea in your head!”
“Suuuurrrreee. Is that why you’re wearing that sundress?” It was ivory with a rose print and pearl buttons down the entire length. It screamed country like a tall glass of tea on a hot summer day. Mr. Craig would love it. “You look awful purty for spending a Sunday afternoon all by your lonesome.”
“You’re delusional, Coop.”
Smiling after her, I turned and trotted up the stairs to my apartment. Tate was throwing back a beer with Levy half asleep in his lap. Indeed, they were watching a ballgame. Phillies were down three to nothing against the Mets. Levy seemed more interested with the inside of his eyelids. Scooping him up, I made a quick change of his diaper and laid him on the length of the sofa to sleep. Ball games had that affect on me too, no offense to the ballplayers.
Likewise, Tate lost interest in the game. Polishing off his beer, he set the empty bottle on the end table and pulled me into his lap. “Is everything ok?”
“Yeah, we just talked.” Tate was concerned, but he was also eager to find the ink I had kept hidden from him for entirely too long. His curiosity was bourgeoning. Currently, his hands were roving blindly beneath my shirt, searching every inch of my skin.
Someone to Watch Over Me Page 15
