by Daws, Amy
“Bugger, I didn’t think you’d get emotional over it,” Camden says, reaching out and gripping my hand in an apologetic gesture.
“Vi, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it,” Booker says, which only makes me laugh.
“Book, you really need to stop apologising for these prats,” I giggle and sit up, dabbing the corners of my eyes.
“Camden’s the prat,” Tanner mutters. “He’s the one who always makes you cry.”
I hold my hand out and stop Camden from unleashing on Tanner. “Just stop. I’m fine. I’m just feeling a bit emotional today. It’s probably my period.”
I look up and see all their faces frozen in horror and disgust. “I thought you boys were all supposed to be tough footballers!” I exclaim, erupting into a fit of giggles.
They all shake their heads and, in unison, pick up their glasses and take long gulps of their beers. They even set their drinks down at the same time. Now my eyes are wet from tears of laughter instead of pain. These brothers of mine are a pain in the arse, but they’re mine. And the truth is it isn’t just them that upset me today.
They have no clue how incredibly hard it is to share a birthday with a ghost.
CHAPTER 3
THE BABY WHISPERER
Hayden
Sprawled out on the long grey couch in my brother’s flat, I flick mindlessly through the channels on the telly trying to stop myself from going upstairs to help my brother’s fiancé, Leslie. The baby has been crying for fifteen minutes straight, but Leslie made me promise to back off and stop helping so much.
“You’re not going to live here forever, Hayden. Theo and I have to figure this out on our own. She’s fine crying for a few moments.”
My jaw clenches as I stare at the clock, watching each passing moment that I’m forced to sit here and listen to my niece’s desperate cries. I unsnap and re-snap the brown leather cuffs on my wrists to try to distract myself. She wants me…I know it. I can feel it for Christ’s sake. She’s the most gorgeous and the most colicky baby you’ll ever meet, but for some reason she likes me.
“Colicky,” I huff. What an odd word for a single, twenty-six-year-old male to know. But fuck, I couldn’t not read the baby books Leslie and Theo had lying around. Especially when I bloody well live with them and hear that poor child wailing every single night. The five S’s are like the bible around here. Swaddle, side, shush, swing, and suck. No five tips have ever helped a family more, I assure you.
I glance down at my watch for the fourth time in the last three minutes and see it tick over to 11:11. I pinch my eyes shut and exhale a wish for luck. A wish for a time machine. A wish for change.
Finally, as if Leslie could hear my silent pleas, her head pops up over the cast iron railing that looks down on the sunken living room. Her face looks flushed and she is near tears. Without hesitation, I spring up and take the steps two at a time all the way to her and my brother’s loft bedroom.
“She doesn’t even like the football hold right now. I’ve rubbed her tummy, but she’s not gassy. I thought if I could strap her to me while I got ready, she’d settle down…but she won’t. She’s tired…I know she is. She just won’t fall asleep.” Leslie’s voice cracks at the end.
“I wish you’d stop fighting my help,” I say, scooping up a besotted three-month-old Baby Marisa off the bed. I tuck her into that perfect place between my shoulder and neck where my voice can tunnel right into her ear. Then I begin shushing her loudly while I swoosh from side to side in short, fast spurts. Her tiny, rigid frame instantly relaxes. A few more loud puffs of air later and her wails morph from battle cries into the cry that sounds more like she’s saying, “It’s about bloody time you got here, Uncle Hayden. Mum’s been messing about with me for ages.”
Her cries continue to calm as I swing. She doesn’t like to be bounced. Everybody wants to bounce her, but it just pisses her off more. I peek at our reflection in the long horizontal mirror on the side wall between the bedroom and the large en suite bathroom. Marisa’s eyes look dazed and heavy now. She’s seconds away from falling asleep.
“Hayden, you freaking British baby whisperer,” Leslie gripes in her distinct American accent.
“She was going to crash any second. You almost had her. This is just luck.”
She drops down onto the bed and pushes her auburn hair back from her face. “It’s not luck, Hay. You have the touch. Jeez, I don’t know what we’d do without you here.”
I huff out an incredulous laugh at that preposterous notion. She’s got no clue how much they help me a thousand times more than I could ever help them. She saved my fucking life for Christ’s sake. Yet I know that Doc is right…There is more to the world outside this flat.
I pause as I hear a soft snore coming from beside my ear and glance at the mirror to find Marisa out cold. I smile triumphantly and turn her to show Leslie.
Her face splits into a grin as she thrusts her hands into the air and does a hilarious silent scream with a little wiggly butt dance. My chest rumbles with laughter as she flops herself back onto the bed and lets out a huge sigh.
After a moment, she sits up and has a serious look upon her face. “Hayden, I know tonight is your big night and you probably have like a trillion things on your mind…but is there any way you could hold her for a while so I can make some calls and take a shower?”
“It’s a tough job, but I think I might just be man enough to do it,” I say with a wink. “Don’t tell my brother, though. He’ll thump me if he knows he missed out on cuddle time again.”
Leslie smiles in a quiet way she only ever does when she thinks of my brother. “He’s hauling the last furniture pieces for the auction over to the ballroom now. He should be back any second and you shall be relieved.”
“No worries. There’s an old football game on downstairs. I’ve got this,” I said, lifting my eyebrows and glancing down at the limp, pink, perfect bundle against my chest.
Leslie smiles affectionately at Marisa before she turns her twinkling green eyes on me. “Thank you, Hayden.”
I head downstairs thinking about how lucky my brother is to have a woman like Leslie. I’ll be proud to call her my official sister after their wedding. Resuming my place on the couch, I allow the slow, rhythmic breaths of Marisa to calm my nerves over what I’m about to do this evening.
The truth is I’ve wanted to hold Marisa all day. She is my moment in reality that reminds me there are bigger struggles happening in this world than my own. And that there are people who need me, even if they are only thirteen pounds. This perfect, fussy baby has become my safety net. My anchor. Holding her against my heart reminds me exactly why I need to always keep it beating.
CHAPTER 4
EASY FAVOUR
Vi
“Vilma, I need you!” Leslie’s voice peels loudly through the phone line.
“What? What is it?” My voice rises at the end and I shoot up out of my wheelie office chair, clutching the phone tightly to my ear. “Is something wrong with the baby?”
“Oh no, no. Marisa is fine. I mean, colicky as always and killing me with the no sleep thing, but healthy as a fussy baby horse.”
My face scrunches in confusion. “A what?”
“Healthy as a horse? Do the Brits not have that reference? Never mind. I have something serious to ask you, Vilma.”
I sigh, “Leslie, why do you insist on calling me by my full name? You’re seriously the only one. You haven’t been in the office for a couple of months and I rather got used to being called just Vi again.”
“I love Vilma…It reminds me of Scooby Doo,” she giggles and I realise how much I’ve missed that sound around here.
I drop back down on my chair and begin spinning around in slow circles. “I still have no idea what you’re going on about,” I reply. I never watched telly much growing up and Leslie can’t seem to wrap her brain around that.
“Scooby Doo and the gang! You seriously need to catch up on your American cartoons. I know they play them in Engla
nd…Hey! Did you get my happy birthday text yesterday? You never replied.”
“Oh shite, yes. I did. Sorry…My brothers showed up, so I got distracted.”
“Sexy soccer brothers?” she asks with a provocative purr to her speech.
Groaning in disgust, I answer, “It’s football over here, mate. You’ve been in London long enough now to use the proper term. Now, did you call for a reason, or just to distract me from my very serious work to educate me on animated American telly and tell me I have hot brothers?”
“Uptight British—” Leslie grumbles, but I cut her off.
“Oi darling, don’t you have a go at me! You’ve left me stranded here at the office because you had to go and have a cute, perfect baby with that sinfully sexy fiancé of yours. I’m not to be trifled with right now. I’ve had to deal with Benji, Hector, and Roger all on my own. Plus two trips to China since you left.”
“Fine, fine…Viiiiii,” she drawls out the I in an exaggerated, smug British accent.
Leslie and I have been working side by side for several years now. She was in charge of working directly with the Chinese factories that make our camera bag designs until her recent maternity leave. I’ve had to pick up the slack ever since. Leslie, Hector, and I are the three designers. We work on various satchels, wallets, clutches, and totes that are all technology and photography friendly. There are a handful of other clerical people we work alongside, as well as with our boss, Roger.
“Thank you for taking care of the fort while I am away. You know I love you.” She makes obnoxious kissy noises into the receiver. “Okay, stop distracting me. I don’t want to talk about work…I have a very serious question. Are you ready?”
“Ready,” I answer.
“Are you sure?”
“Sure.”
“Are you prepared?”
“Primed and poised,” I quip.
“Do you have a formal evening gown?” she rushes out in one breath.
My brow furrows at this query. Leslie excels at random, but this still surprises me. “This seems like an incredibly peculiar question.”
“Well, do you?”
Sighing heavily, I recall the white floor-length evening gown I bought last year for New Year’s Eve. Normally I despise wearing white with my blonde hair because I feel washed out. But this dress is a diamond white that has just enough glimmer to make my alabaster skin look positively luminous.
“I do happen to have a dress,” I reply sadly at the fact that I still have never worn it anywhere. It’s tragic, really. Pierce was a DJ who worked at a posh nightclub in Chigwell and they were hosting a huge formal party. Then the cheating rumours began and the whole Gareth blowout happened the day before New Year’s Eve. Leslie tried to strong arm me into going just to spite him. But instead, I had a cosy night in with my main man, Bruce.
“Perfect! I have a proposition for you.”
Leslie goes on to explain that Theo’s family hosts a formal charity gala every year in London and two of her former roommates, who were going to attend, had to back out last minute.
“Theo’s family is throwing the event you say?” I ask cautiously. “So they’ll all be there I would assume.”
“Yes, yes. Of course,” she replies dismissively. “You’ll be at a table with some of my old roommates. Frank, Finley, and Brody. Then Reyna and Liam will be at your table as well. You met them all at The White Swan Pub soft opening a couple of weeks ago.”
I exhale when I realise she hasn’t mentioned the one I’m most curious about. Recalling my less than stellar first impression I had with Theo’s brother, Hayden, I can’t tell if I’m relieved or disappointed to hear he won’t be sitting at my table.
Hayden Clarke is…memorable…to say the least. He had that sexy soulful look about him that lured me right in. “That sounds quite fun,” I reply, clearing the frog in my throat.
“Do you think you can secure a plus one?” Leslie asks. “The plates are three hundred quid a piece and are already paid in full. Oooh, maybe one of your brothers?” Her voice rises with excitement.
I exhale sharply while rolling my eyes. My gaze happens to land on my coworker, Benji. I catch him picking dirt out from beneath his fingernails with an opened paperclip and my nose crinkles. “What would you say if I wanted to bring Benji instead?” I whisper quietly into the phone. “I really think the bloke needs a nice night out.”
Leslie groans, “Your brothers would be much more thrilling, but dammit, you’re probably right about Benji. Do you think you can keep him occupied, though? I can’t trust that Theo won’t get twitchy if he starts following me around all night.”
I purse my lips to conceal my giggle. Benji is our personal assistant and is hopelessly in love with Leslie. It’s quite cute, really. He’s twenty-three, small bodied with mousy brown hair, and has an awkward, nerdy way about him. He’s not unattractive, but he is the polar opposite of Theo. Theo is large and heavily muscled with trimmed dark blond hair. He’s brooding and intense with a confidence that you can’t fake. And the passion that radiates from him when he’s around Leslie…It gives me butterflies and I’m not even on the receiving end of those looks. Not to mention he pulls off smart glasses like no bloke I’ve ever seen.
“He’ll be fine,” I appease. “Maybe he’ll meet a nice girl?”
“Aw, I’d love that for Benji,” Leslie sings hopefully into the phone. “So you’ll do it then. Yay! Thank you, my love. It means a lot. I gotta run, though. Marisa is stirring and I still have to get in the shower. It takes hours to do anything when you have a colicky baby. I’ll email you the details.”
“Great,” I reply.
“Okay, bye-bye, Vi. Oh look, I made a rhyme! I’m a poet and I didn’t know it!” She snickers like a loon and I can’t help but laugh pathetically back. Her voice grows serious again, “I’m sorry…Mommyhood has murdered my brain cells. Talk later!”
I shake my head as I hang up thinking about just how much Leslie’s life has changed since she’s come to London. At twenty-seven, she’s only a couple of years older than me and I can’t even imagine being where she is currently in her life. I’m still getting dumped by douchey DJ’s for goodness sake.
“Hey, Benji,” I sing merrily as I saunter over to his desk, which is situated behind the designer cubbies.
He looks up, dropping his paperclip on the desk and clumsily tries to cover it up. “Hiya, Vi. What can I get for you?”
Shooting him a cheeky grin, I ask, “Have ya got plans tonight?”
He blinks in confusion and furrows his brows. “Not particularly.”
“Leslie just called and wondered if you and I would be keen to go to a fundraiser she’s a part of tonight. It’s a formal do, I’m afraid.”
Benji shoots up out of his chair. “Leslie called? Are you serious? Did she ask for me specifically?” His voice rises to a high-pitched squeal.
“Benji,” I chastise like a proper mum. “If you’re going to act this excited around her tonight then it’s probably not a good idea for you to go. She’s got a lot going right now with a new baby and all her wedding planning. She really needs a nice evening out.”
His face drops. “No, I just…Oh, bugger. I didn’t mean to…It wasn’t that—”
“I know you’re fond of her. Leslie’s a great mate. Just promise to be cool and we’ll go together and have a fab time, all right?” Benji adamantly promises to be calm and I know I can trust him. He’s harmless, really. Just overeager.
Since Roger is not in the office today, we both decide to scoot out early to prepare for our big night. Benji has to go rent a tux and I need extra time to do my hair. A formal affair requires a bit more effort than my daily long and straight.
“I’ll pick you up in a cab outside your building at seven then,” I say as we clamber out the large swing-open window of our building.
“Sounds lovely,” he replies, his voice rising at the end as we descend down the wrought iron fire escape stairs along the outside of our building. There’s
a call centre located on the lower level of our two-floor warehouse, and we look at those employees like zombies who could infect us with a case of “dull and painfully boring.” It was Leslie’s idea we start using the fire escape steps to enter and exit so the drab lower level office doesn’t mess with our creative mojo.
Just as we reach the bottom of the large metal steps, my dad’s name pops up on my phone screen. I wave Benji off and answer as I make my way down the sidewalk. “Hiya, Dad!”
“Hiya, my new twenty-five-year-old daughter. You sound rather chipper.” His warm voice is always a welcome sound.
“Well, I just got invited to a formal do tonight. I was going to call you, actually. I’m afraid Bruce and I won’t be around for tea.”
“What’s the event for?”
“Oh…erm, crap.” I was so excited at the prospect of who might be in attendance that I completely forgot to ask Leslie what the charity was even for. “I suppose I don’t even know. It’s sort of a favour for a friend.”
“Well, have fun. I’ll try and ward off your brothers for ya.”
I let out a huff of laughter. “As if that were even possible.” Being footballers and over-protective alpha types as brothers makes them think they can call the plays in my life.
“They mean well, darling. It’s off-season, so they have too much time on their hands to worry about you.”
Rolling my eyes, I reply, “I know, I know.”
“But you will be by Sunday, right?” he asks.
“‘Course, Dad. You needn’t even ask.”
“All right, just making sure. Be safe and text me when you’re home tonight.”
“Will do! Bye, Dad.”
“Bye.”
I stride down the street with an extra bounce to my step at the prospect of a big night out. This is what I envisioned when I moved. Doing fun, spur of the moment things with friends that don’t involve going over match footage. And now that Leslie lives with Theo full-time, she’s only a ten minute walk from my flat. Maybe now that she lives closer we’ll see each other more often? I know she’s got a baby, but surely mummies need a break here and there.
