by Elle Casey
She snorts. “Hardly. Go on. Leave, before one my girlfriends gets a look at you and decides she needs to marry you.”
I’m so confused, I don’t even know how to respond to that.
Jana points at Cassie. “You’re standing there holding an infant, wearing the remnants of your suit, and your Porche is a mini-van. Chicks love that shit.”
I grin. “Good. Maybe one of them would like to come spend the weekend with us.”
She goes behind me and starts pushing on my back. “Don’t even try it. This is your weekend. Enjoy it. Make the most of it. Cassie loves to go for walks.”
“Doesn’t she get heavy?”
“Yes, which is why you bought her that stroller I sent you the email about last week.”
I didn’t open any of the emails my sister sent in the last week, once I realized they were going to be full of links to baby crap she thought I should buy. When the first message suggested a diaper genie, whatever the hell that is, I stopped opening them. I figured I’d put Veronica on the job. Oops.
Whatever. I’m a grown man. I don’t need my little sister telling me how to take care of a baby for two days. At least … I didn’t think so before. As I walk down the front stairs and see my back seat again, I feel the panic coming on stronger. The mountain of stuff in my back seat has me second-guessing myself.
“Okee dokee. Ready?” Jana’s standing next to the open passenger door of my car.
I hand the baby over and watch carefully as she buckles her in, taking mental notes.
“Always make sure this middle buckle is engaged,” she says, her voice muffled with her head in the car.
I get in the driver’s side, looking over at my sister and my niece.
“You sure you’re going to be okay?” Jana asks me. She casts a worried glance at Cassie.
“Of course, we’ll be fine. Cassie and I are going to have Chinese take-out and some ice cream sundaes, and then we’ll stay up until one in the morning watching Desperate Housewives of Vermont.”
“First of all, if you do any thing even remotely like that with my niece, you’re going to have your Uncle title stripped. And second, there’s no such show.”
“There should be,” I say, putting my S-key into the ignition slot. I have no idea what I’m talking about. My mouth is on auto-pilot saying whatever crazy thing comes to mind. I have to buy a whole baby-life worth of crap and I have no secretary anymore. What the hell am I going to do?
“You can handle this, big brother. I’m going to stop worrying about you,” Jana says, closing the passenger door.
“Do that!” I say loudly, hoping my voice will carry to the front of the house where she is now. “Don’t worry about a thing! We’ll be fine!”
Jana waves and I pause before pulling away from her place so I can look at my niece. Her eyes are open now and she turns her head to look at me.
“You ready for the big time?” I ask her softly.
Her face crumples and she starts to cry.
I quickly back out of my parking spot and take off, worried my sister will hear her and decide she has to cancel her weekend of fun. I need Jana to be at a hundred percent, because I’m in no position to become a full-time dad. A weekend being single again will re-charge her batteries and then I’ll be able to get back to my normal life.
As I pull onto the Brooklyn Bridge with Cassie screaming her tiny head off, I wonder at what percent I’ll be Monday morning for work.
Chapter Fifty-Four
MY FIRST STOP IS BACK at the condo. Cassie and I are going to take a limo to do our shopping. No way am I going to deal with the hassle of finding parking while there’s a screaming baby in the car. And if we take cabs, I’ll have to haul that damn baby seat in and out with me. Nope. The limo service is the way to go for sure.
I pull into the garage and call the service desk in the reception area of the tower.
“Lobby.”
“Hey, this is Doctor Oliver. I’m down in the parking garage, and I need someone to bring some things up from my car.”
“I’ll send someone right out, sir.”
I hang up and get out of the car, walking around to Cassie’s side. She stopped crying whenever the car came to a halt, thank goodness, which meant my eardrums got a reprieve at every stop light and now here in my parking space. I can only imagine the noise she’d make in this echoing garage with those lungs of hers, given the chance. She’s starting to look cranky again. Panic rises.
I hurry to unbuckle her and lift her out, feeling terrible when she hiccups several times as she tries to breathe. Apparently all that crying has her wiped out. I’m patting her on the back and bouncing awkwardly on my toes when someone walks out the service door and over to my parking spot.
“Doctor Oliver, hello. I’m Emilio, here to help you with your bags.”
“Thanks, Emilio. Everything’s in the back seat. Grab the car seat from the front too while you’re at it. Lock up when you’re done.” I toss him the electronic key fob and leave him to the task.
When we get into the residential elevator I smile. Cassie’s being cool now, and so far, no smelly business is coming from her diaper area. Maybe I’ll get lucky and she won’t shit her pants all weekend.
“You want to press the button?” I ask her, stepping towards the lit-up panel. “We’re on number thirty-five. Go ahead. Press it.”
I take her tiny hand and let her pretend to select the floor. “I used to love pressing the elevator buttons when I was kid.” I kiss her little fist as her fingers wrap around my thumb.
As we ride to my floor, I use her grip on my thumb to have her do some little baby exercises. “Up and down and up and down.” Her arm follows my movements and she just lies there, her expression serene. I start to pick up a rhythm as her arm goes through the motions, and I sway with the beat, getting into it. A chant pops into my head, and since there’s no one around to hear, I go with it.
“Two, four, six, eight, who does Cassie appreciate? Uncle James, Uncle James, yay, Uncle James!” I make her hand go above her head and wave around. All she does is stare at me as I make the sound of thousands of fans screaming their adoration for Uncle James. “Haaaa … Haaaa … Haaaaa…”
The elevator stops and we exit down the hall from my door. I pull my thumb gently out of her grip so I can fish the key out of my pocket.
“Here we are, home sweet home.” Opening the door, I inhale the fresh sent of lemon as the foyer is revealed. My cleaning lady has been here again. Friday is my favorite day to come back home from work. I start every weekend with a fresh slate.
We’re not one step into the condo when Cassie squirms and farts.
“No.” I shake my head at her as I kick the door closed. “Huh-uh, Cassie. No farting in this apartment. I’m serious. It’s a hard rule. Not up for debate.”
She farts again and winces.
“I’m not kidding. This is the no-baby-fart zone. Farting leads to pooping and pooping leads to me changing diapers, so no. No, no, no. Not gonna happen.”
One second later, a horrible sound I’ve never heard outside a frat-house bathroom comes from her diaper, followed shortly by an unholy smell drifting up towards my nose.
“Jesus Christ, Cassie! Did you not hear what I just said?”
Her mouth twitches up into a smile and all I see are gums.
I frown at her as I realize any attempts at discipline will be completely useless this weekend. “You’re lucky you’re so cute.”
There’s a knock at my door, interrupting the next scolding I was about to give her.
“Come in!”
The guy from the parking garage is in my doorway with all of Cassie’s stuff on a rolling cart.
“Just in time,” I say, holding out a twenty dollar bill. “You know how to change diapers by any chance?”
The guy pushes past me, depositing bags in the foyer. “No. Why?”
“Because. There’s another twenty in this tip if you can show me how.”
He paus
es and stands up straight. “You got a baby in here and you don’t know how to change its diaper?”
I realize as he says that, that I sound a lot like a kidnapper.
“She’s my niece and I said I’d watch her this weekend.”
“And you don’t know how to change diapers.” The guy raises his eyebrows at me but says nothing.
I’m getting the distinct impression he considers me a complete imbecile, which now that I think about it, might not be that far off the mark.
I shrug. “Can’t be that hard, right?”
Hope slides away as he shakes his head. “Don’t ask me. Don’t know, don’t want to know.”
“How about fifty bucks?” I ask.
“No thanks.” He throws the last bag into my living room and grabs the twenty from my hand as he walks back out the door. “Have a nice night,” he says, shutting the door behind him.
I mumble, “Asshole,” kicking a bag out of my way so I can get into the living room without tripping. I’m ready to call Emilio my non-savior a few more choice words when I realize that my hand feels wet. The one that’s under Cassie’s butt.
The smell gets worse.
And my hand is definitely wet.
“Oh dear God.”
I’m in the bathroom spreading towels all over the marble floor with the one hand I have available, planning on putting Cassie down and stripping her bare so I can spray her off with my shower handle, when the phone on the wall rings, telling me someone who works downstairs wants to talk to me.
I grab it, praying it’s someone who knows how to change diapers.
“Hello?” I’m a little breathless.
“Doctor Oliver?” the man’s voice says.
“Yes?”
“There’s someone here to see you.”
“Who?”
“Some woman. Delivering food. Chinese, I think. She’s … uh … Chinese. Maybe.”
“I’m Asian-American,” I hear a voice say in the background.
Jana must have ordered me dinner before she left for the night. Did she know how helpless I’d be just walking in the door? Whatever. I’m not going to get mad at her for underestimating me. I know she means well, and if this diaper thing is any indication of how my night is going to go, I’m going to need the sustenance in that take-out meal.
“Fine. You can bring it up.”
There’s a pause. Then, “She says you need to pay for it.”
Normally my food is paid for in advance and an employee of the building brings the take-out in. Building management frowns on outsiders roaming the halls. But my wallet’s in the other room, Cassie still stinks to high heaven, and I have pale cream carpets I’d like to keep that way.
“Can she just come up here? I’m kind of tied up right now.”
I hear him ask her and then he’s back on the phone. “Yeah. She’s on her way.”
“Tell her to just let herself in. I have my hands full.”
“Will do.” He pauses and then adds, “Have fun.”
I swear there’s a smile in his voice, but I don’t have time to deal with whatever the joke is. I have a nuclear disaster on my hands, and if I don’t hurry up and take care of it, all the fresh lemon scent is going to be destroyed, and my condo will smell like nasty baby butt all weekend instead.
Chapter Fifty-Five
I PULL THE RED EMBROIDERED satin dress down farther over my buttcheeks one more time after I enter the elevator. I’m almost home free and I can hardly contain myself. Goodbye ring and hello good karma, easy street here I come.
Ralph said I’d never make it past the doorman, but he was wrong about that, underestimating my powers of persuasion like most people do. Silly man. You’d think he would have learned by now; nothing stops me when I’m on a mission. And my mission is to get rid of this stupid bad luck charm once and for all.
Mr. Fancy Pants lives on the thirty-fifth floor of Trump Towers. No wonder I bumped into him at the fountain. He was probably walking home that day. I reflect on my extreme good luck one more time as the elevator zooms upwards. When that girl Veronica called me at Belinda’s shop, I nearly had a heart attack.
“How’d you get my number?” I asked suspiciously. When she told me how she kept Shay Dee’s manager’s phone number handy and had tracked me down through him, I knew I’d met a kindred spirit. No man should mess with women like us. We always get what we want eventually. Doctor Oliver should stop trying to fight me on this. Anyway, after tonight, it won’t matter anymore. He can be as stubborn as he wants, but I’m going to win this war.
I was told to take a left off the elevator and go to the end of the hall. There’s a door there, but it’s closed. Normally, I’d knock in a situation like this, but I’m in too much of a hurry to finish my business. Maybe I’ll get lucky and he won’t even see me come in. I can leave the ring and take off. I just have to get out of the building before anyone can stop me. Maybe I’ll take the stairs down and give him and his army of doormen the slip. Trying to estimate how long it will take me to get thirty-five floors down on foot starts to give me a headache, though, so I decide to wait and do what feels right when the time comes. On-the-fly decision making. Ninja skills. I can do this.
As soon as I open the door, the smell hits me.
Death. Or something very near death. Is he a serial killer storing bodies in here or what?
“What the hell …?” I whisper.
“Hello?!” comes a voice from somewhere I can’t see.
I need to say something or he’ll come out here and bust me.
“Hello! Chinese food delivery!” I put the grocery sack full of crap from my meager pantry offerings down on the foyer table and reach into my backpack, trying to find the ring. I’m going to hide it in the apartment somewhere so I have more time to get away.
“Could you help me please?” he says loudly. “I’m kind of stuck here!”
I pause, my hand wrapping around the ring in my bag.
“Stuck?!” I really don’t want to answer his call, but he sounds desperate.
“Please! Help! It’s an emergency!”
Goddammit, Karma, why are you such a bitch?! I’m so close. So close!
“Oh my god, noooo!” he yells, sounding very distressed.
I can’t stand still any longer. This is a test. Karma is asking me what I’m going to do … be selfish or selfless. I really have no choice.
Dropping my backpack to the floor, I run as fast as I can in my heels, following the sound of moaning and groaning. They lead me through a bedroom and into a bathroom.
I cannot believe what I’m looking at.
First, there’s the reflection of me in the mirror. I look hot. I should probably masquerade as an Asian girl more often. My black wig, heavily lined eyes — drawn to make them appear almond-shaped — are killing it. And this dress I found in a cheap Chinatown souvenir shop? Holy crap. I never realized I had so many curves. Boom chakka lakka. Sexxxyyyyy.
“Excuse me, but when you’re done checking yourself out in the mirror, do you think you could help me out?”
I scowl down at the guy who’s on his knees and who’s obviously not hurt at all. Then I realize he’s not alone.
“What in the heck …?”
“She had a blowout,” he explains.
There’s a baby lying in the middle of a pile of towels, her diaper sagging off one leg, and baby shit everywhere.
“What did you do to it?” I ask, afraid to get any closer.
“She’s not an It, she’s a she. She’s Cassie.”
Somehow, I never pictured him as a father. He always seemed too stuck up or something. “Is she yours?”
“She’s my niece.” He looks up exasperated and sighs. “Do you know how to change diapers or not?”
“Not.” I laugh one quick second and then stop.
“How is that possible?” He gets up from his knees and puts his hands on his hips.
“What’s that supposed to mean? Because I’m Chinese I should automatically k
now how to change diapers?” Is that a thing? Are Asian woman expert diaper changers from birth? How did I not know that?
He narrows his eyes at me. “If you’re Chinese, my name’s Antonio.”
“Okay, Antonio, whatever you say.” I look away so he can’t get too close a look at my makeup. The stink in here is starting to make my eyes water, and I’m not sure this stuff is waterproof.
“Here,” he says, bending over and grabbing the baby, dangling her in the air between us, “pull her diaper off for me, at least.”
I stare in disgust at the mess just inches from my face. “Hell no, I’m not doing that!”
He arches an eyebrow at me. “You’re going to let this baby get sepsis from the infection?”
My heart lurches. “Infection? What infection?”
“Diaper rash. It’s inevitable.”
The baby isn’t facing me, but even so, I can see she’s tiny. And she’s cute. Even though she’s being dangled in midair, she doesn’t seem to mind. I know if I had my pants full of shit and someone was holding me like that I’d be pissed.
“Fine. I’ll take it off, but then I’m leaving.”
“Don’t you want to be paid?” he asks, pushing the baby closer to me.
“You’d better not be suggesting that I’m only getting paid if I change this diaper.” Not that it matters. He can have my cans of four-year-old soup gratis. It’s just the principle of the thing. You get take-out delivered, you pay for it without requiring extra services. That’s like a social rule or whatever.
“I can’t get my wallet until my hands are clean, which isn’t going to happen until this is finished.”
The ring is in the hallway and I’m afraid if I just take off, I won’t have time to get it out and hide it somewhere before he comes out and catches me in the act. He’ll have me arrested for trespassing or something, and if I get busted this time, I’ll never get another chance. This place is like a fortress. I know I got lucky this trip getting inside it, and my luck can only hold out for so long.
“Okay, I’m taking it off,” I say, reaching out for the sides of the diaper. “Then you need to pay me so I can leave. I’m allergic to baby shit.”
