by Eden Winters
The Christmas cactus remained on the cabinet, trailing long green shoots down the sides.
Words fought hard to come out of his mouth: “Did you hear me and Bo are parents?”
Keeping his mouth shut damned near killed Lucky, only, how much could he tell without more questions coming his way than he could answer? Most folks in the department knew he and Bo lived together. Other than the basic facts, they kept their relationship out from under other people’s noses. Except for a choice few, like Walter, Johnson, and Lisa, who regularly came to their house, and asshole Keith, whose daughter did. Bo might have a few more he’d confide in.
But not about the baby. Not yet.
The story they’d stick to made creative use of the truth: Yes, Bo was Alejandro’s father, like the birth certificate said. Together he and Bo would raise the child and love him, teach him all he needed to know. Yolanda picked Bo to be the father.
Yes, they’d always planned a family and decided on surrogacy. Very true.
Saying too much right now wasn’t advisable, since so much could still go wrong, health-wise. While no one would contest Bo being the father, adding Alejandro to his medical plan definitely fell into the “fraud” category, unless Walter managed to work his magic.
For better or worse, they’d made a decision. Bo could even apply for paternity leave. He wouldn’t, not when he’d earned the dubious honor of being Walter’s replacement, and taking leave would mean the boss postponing retirement.
While Walter’s skills remained sharp, the job definitely took a toll on his health. He’d done his time in the war zone of drug enforcement, and deserved to spend his golden years not looking over his shoulder or dealing with criminals.
And driving Mrs. Smith crazy, being underfoot all the time. Walter’s words, not Lucky’s.
Lucky could take time off to help the new addition get settled in, but he had a crop of newbies to see to, and a case. Finding out how those drugs got into schools fell on his shoulders. Besides, Charlotte had volunteered for childcare while Bo and Lucky worked.
While she didn’t mention her no longer needing to get pregnant, she threw herself into knitting baby blankets between her online courses. Next semester called for her to show up at a brick and mortar school occasionally, but for now, staying home worked.
Except for the times she left the house alone, not saying where she was going or when she’d be back.
Had she met someone? Funny, she’d not mentioned a man. Then again, she’d always said she’d never bring a date around her kids unless she was damned sure of the relationship going somewhere.
Oh well. Lucky would happily tell Salters he’d lost out. Strange, Salters hadn’t asked about Charlotte lately. Maybe he’d given up and gone away.
Then again, any of the trainees could dance naked in front of Lucky and he’d probably not notice, as preoccupied as he’d been.
Nope, not an image he needed. Focus. He needed to focus on important things.
Like his family.
At least another week before they’d bring little Alejandro home. Andro. Their son. Lucky’s heart swelled.
Family. Lucky’s family. He’d be a father. He and Bo. Though they hadn’t gone about it like they first envisioned, only the end results mattered.
Enough thinking about babies right now. Work first. Okay, one more minute. He texted Cruz. “Everything settled?”
A moment later a smiling emoji appeared onscreen, along with, “Graciela sends her love and asked if tamales would keep long enough for me to bring them to you. Sorry, my friend, but Graciela’s tamales wouldn’t last any farther than the Texas border in my care.”
The little shit.
“Yolanda is seeing a therapist and helping Graciela at the cantina. She’s starting online classes in the fall.”
“Hug G for me, k?” Graciela. One more person on a growing list of folks who might not hate him. Hard to hate him, probably, when he’d helped her regain her home.
No one would bother the girl in Nestor’s territory, or under the protection of the Mangiardis. Lucky couldn’t have found a safer place for her.
With Yolanda settled, he could put his mind to ease. About one thing, anyway, leaving him free to worry about the roughly 9,000 other matters on his plate.
He pushed aside thoughts of his personal life. Work. He needed to work. Lots of cleanup from the clandestine pharma shop, more assignments for the rookies, getting the nursery in order.
Damn, there he went again. If this was how a man acted during impending fatherhood, how had his father ever gotten the tobacco and other crops planted during the nine years Lucky’s mother pretty much stayed pregnant?
A father. Lucky was going to be a father. Sooner than he ever dreamed.
Diapers, bottles, responsibilities, up all hours of the night.
Ever since his talk with Bo his moods swung from walking on clouds to scared shitless. What right did he have to be a dad? He’d done some awful things with his life. Some good, too, to hear Bo and Walter tell of it, Charlotte as well.
But a father. To a little boy who needed people to love him. A little extra help. Not to mention the mother. Poor girl. She was just a little older than Ty, and younger than Todd.
He stared at the plant on the filing cabinet. Last year it bloomed at Thanksgiving. He imagined dark pink blossoms.
In November. Thanksgiving. Followed by Christmas.
Would Bo and Lucky get to spend a proper Christmas together again? Charlotte and the boys would be here. What if little Alejandro spent his first Christmas with an actual family instead of in the hospital or foster care?
Christmas. A family Christmas.
With a family of his own.
He needed to talk to some folks at Ty’s school. The hospital was on the way. Or close enough. Only ten more miles.
The ride over blurred in his mind, and once again he stood peering through a glass window at a tiny body in a bassinet. Only a few sensors remained on Andro. A good sign, right?
A smiling nurse pushed the bassinet closer to the window. He’d been a fixture here for the last few days. How he longed to go in, hold the tiny body against his chest, rock him.
But he wasn’t the baby’s father. The nurses wouldn’t allow him to hold a child not his.
If he and Bo married, he’d have rights. No, he wouldn’t push Bo to make things legal. They wore wedding bands, were married in all the ways that mattered.
Still, as he smiled down at his son, he couldn’t help wondering if he should be doing more.
He texted his sister. “Make me a list of everything we’re going to need.”
If he couldn’t rock his son, he’d do what he could to make the boy’s life good.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Lucky rummaged through other people’s cast-offs. Did they have any business bringing a child into their lives if they couldn’t afford nice, new furniture for their kids?
Then again, Lucky’d grown up wearing his cousin’s hand-me-downs, which he then passed on until the clothes disintegrated. Poor Daytona. He’d gotten not only used clothing from cousins and older brothers, but also Charlotte. Good thing she’d been tomboyish in her younger years.
Hmm… an oak crib. Some scuffs, but nothing he couldn’t sand out and refinish. The changing table didn’t match, but Charlotte could work some magic with all the crafts she’d taken up over the years. Between his sanding and painting and her tacking on decals or whatever, they’d make do.
He squinted and studied his sister’s list. Baby towels and washcloths? Onesies? Judging by his closet, Lucky wasn’t capable of choosing his own clothes, let alone someone else’s. Maybe coming back with Charlotte and Bo would be better.
For the kid anyway.
Jeez! Were used cribs supposed to cost this much? Lucky removed his cellphone and scrutinized the list Bo and Charlotte had made for him, budgeting how much for each item he should expect to spend. Okay, so this crib didn’t come close to what Bo reckoned.
; He made a note of the larger pieces and packed the smaller ones into a slightly rusted shopping basket with “Winn Dixie” on the handles. No telling where the thrift store got the four-wheeled relic.
He got to the counter with his purchases. “I want a crib and changing table in the furniture section, but they won’t fit into my car. Can I pay for them and come back to get them later?” Working on a tight deadline didn’t leave him a lot of time. “My sister also has things she wants to donate, so I’ll have to bring them back too.” Why hadn’t he thought to borrow Bo’s truck earlier?
The young woman behind the counter beamed. “How far away do you live? Our truck will pick up within ten miles of the store. We can drop off your items at the same time and save you a trip.”
Really? “About four.” But… delivery meant a stranger coming to his house, possibly while he wasn’t there.
To be met by a fully armed sister. “Yeah, that could work.”
Spending far less than he’d expected, he tucked his billfold back into his pocket. “When can you come?”
“Just a moment and I’ll check.” The woman punched a few keys on the world’s oldest still-working laptop, and grinned. “It turns out our delivery driver will be near you around two this afternoon. Does that work?”
Wow! That fast. “Sure.” Still wincing at giving a stranger personal information, he jotted his address on a Post-it pad, along with Charlotte’s number so she could buzz the truck through the gate—if the gate happened to be working today.
Business concluded, he strolled out of the store, pulled out his phone, and called his sister.
“Hey, Lucky, how’d you do?”
He couldn’t help grinning. Domestic success. Wouldn’t Bo be proud? “I found some pretty good things, I think. The thrift store is going to deliver around two. Will you be home?”
“Sure. You want me to set things up or wait for you?”
Telling her to do the work would save him some trouble, but Bo might want to make a family effort out of fixing up the nursery. “How about we save that for after supper, when we’re all there?”
A smile came through in her voice. “Sounds good. I can’t wait to see everything.”
“Now don’t get too excited. The furniture will need some work.”
“We’ll handle it. I shopped Goodwill for Todd’s baby things.” She didn’t add that Lucky, courtesy of a drug-lord lover, provided much better things for Ty. If only he had the disposable cash now he’d had access to then. No problems.
But didn’t planning, saving, and working with what they had make Bo’s eyes light up? The man could squeeze a penny until it screamed, and made a game out of saving money.
Lucky’d come in under budget with his purchases. He wasn’t looking forward to Bo’s praise. No, not at all. Okay, maybe a little bit.
“See you tonight.” Lucky ended the call and checked his phone for the time. Oops, better get back to work.
***
At three o’clock Charlotte called. Lucky, at his desk, checked right and left for eavesdroppers and took the call. Anyone witnessing one of his conversations on this particular topic might mistakenly think he possessed a softer side. “Hey, girl. What’s up? Did the furniture come?”
Silence.
“Charlotte? Is something wrong?”
“Um… Did you say you went to the thrift store by the CVS?”
“Yeah, why?” His heart fell. He’d been so sure he’d gotten a good deal. What if he’d spent his and Bo’s hard-earned cash on rubbish?
“A truck came, all right, but it wasn’t from the thrift store, and I don’t think this is what you picked out.” She lowered her voice. “Lucky, this is all brand new. Crib, child’s bed, matching dresser, changing table, rocking horse, bouncy chair, swing, state of the art car seat. Plus, towels, washcloths, comforter, rocking chair. I asked the driver if he’d made a mistake, but he assured me this was for us.”
“What the hell? Leave everything in the boxes. We’ll figure this out when I get home.” Surely Bo hadn’t gone crazy and spent a fortune. While they’d like to give Alejandro the best, their budget didn’t allow new. They needed to save their money for possible medical expenses not covered by insurance.
“I can’t. They set everything up and took the boxes. Lucky, what’ll I do?”
What indeed. “I’ll be there in a few.” He ended the call and texted Bo. “I need to talk to you.”
“I’m in a meeting. Give me about twenty minutes,” Bo texted back.
Twenty minutes. An eternity. When Bo was still an agent, he’d been easier to track down. Oh, who was Lucky fooling? There were days and weeks he’d gone without seeing or talking to his man. And taking over Walter’s job meant Bo came home at night and wasn’t in much danger of getting shot, so he’d never regret Bo’s change in status.
The new job also meant Bo dressing up for work. The man looked damned good in a suit.
Lisa poked her head into his cube. “Mr. Harrison? This came for you a little while ago.” She gave him a soft smile.
He took the FedEx mailer from her hand. “Thanks.”
She grinned and traipsed down the hall.
Now who’d be sending him something via FedEx? No return address. What? Didn’t FedEx require that? He ripped the envelope open and pulled out a single piece of paper, covered with hand-written scrawl: Only the best for Alejandro Harrison-Schollenberger.
The note was signed V and N.
“Fuck my life.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
No thumping music pounded through the floors, which might mean Ty wasn’t home, or maybe he’d taken to wearing headphones. Even so, if he didn’t learn volume control, he’d lose hearing before he started college.
Lucky tapped twice on Ty’s room door. There. He’d knocked. Without waiting for an answer, he opened the door. He would not tear the place apart looking for pills. He wouldn’t.
If Ty left something in plain sight, however…
Checking out the nursery additions would have to wait. Opportunities for a private heart-to-heart with his nephew didn’t come along every day.
What the fuck? Lucky froze.
Ty sat on the edge of his single bed, head in his hands. “Ty?” Rumpled covers spoke of not having been made up lately. Band posters hung from the walls, as well as posters from some of his favorite soccer teams.
Clothes and shoes lay in piles on the floor, along with books, papers, and a video game controller. A lonely sock draped over the bed’s footboard. No telling what Lucky might find under the bed.
Essence of gym-locker funk hung in the air. Next time Ty went to school, the two windows on the far wall were coming open.
A grease-stained paper plate lay two feet from the trashcan. Good thing Ty’s sport wasn’t basketball.
At least the place didn’t reek of air freshener, the way Lucky’s used to when he’d hidden smoking in the house during his own teenaged years. Poor kid didn’t stand a chance. Wasn’t much he could dream up the Lucklighter kids hadn’t thought of first.
Meaning, of course, Lucky. With a touch of Daytona thrown in for good measure. But whatever illicit substances Lucky might have experimented with, he’d never scored from a teacher.
Lucky opened his mouth to speak—and promptly shut up.
Misery peeked out of the eyes peering above Ty’s fingertips. He didn’t recoil, complain about Lucky more or less barging into his room, or anything else. In fact, he looked—relieved?
Fuck. Lucky dropped down beside his nephew on the bed. “Tell me. What happened?” The misery hadn’t taken up residence on Ty’s face all by itself. Ty’s silence hinted at a fuckup of epic proportions.
“Something bad happened to Greg.”
Greg? “Who’s Greg?” Surely Lucky hadn’t missed Ty suddenly befriending a kid by that name. “A friend of yours.”
“Not… not really.” Ty sniffed. “He’s a guy on the team. Didn’t show up to school today. Some of the other guys say he OD’d.”
Chills danced their way up Lucky’s spine. “OD’d on what?” The squirming in the pit of his gut said he already knew.
“The same stuff we all take.”
We? “Are you still taking that shit?” Even after I told you not to?
“No.” Ty scrubbed a hand over his face. “You told me it was dangerous, but all the guys said…”
“Said it wasn’t and I was an idiot.”
Ty nodded. “Something like that.”
“You do realize I’ve spent over a dozen years in narcotics enforcement, and a few more… well, in the drug trade.” More or less. “I kinda know what I’m talking about.”
“I know. I just didn’t want to admit it.” Whether consciously or not, Ty leaned toward Lucky. “I’m ready to believe you now.”
“Good. Because the shit is gonna hit the fan, and I don’t want you getting caught in the splatter.”
Ty shrugged. “Not much of a way to avoid it. That splatter’s going a long way. Soccer, football, tennis… We’ll be lucky to have a school left.”
Fuck. Another thing to hold against Uncle Lucky if Ty took a mind to. “How’s this Greg? Is he okay?”
For a long moment Ty didn’t answer. Finally he said, “He’s alive, if that’s what you mean, and he’s not telling anyone what happened—what really happened. His parents took away his phone and won’t let him talk to the guys.”
Which meant maybe they’d let him talk to Lucky if he flashed his badge. Being official with the SNB had its uses.
Wrapping his arms around himself, Ty swayed back and forth. “I’m sorry I wouldn’t listen before. I talked to Todd, and he told me I was a fucking idiot.”
No need agreeing when Ty did such a good job of beating himself up already. Instead of speaking, Lucky slung an arm around Ty’s shoulders.
Ty laid his head against Lucky’s chest. “I’m sorry, Uncle Lucky. Is there anything I can do to help?”
Was there? The two agents posing as students hadn’t gotten anywhere. An idea took root in Lucky’s brain. Nope. “Bad idea” he heard in Bo’s voice.