Wrong Place, Right Time

by Elle Casey

  I’m so happy, it’s like I’m on drugs, and that’s quite an accomplishment, considering where I am; normally, McDonald’s is a guaranteed headache for me, and the pounding in my skull starts before I even get in the door. But right now? I’m floating, my feet barely touching the ground.

  When Dev gets out of the car and I see his giant frame standing there, I realize he’s right; he is a smooth operator. It takes a lot of finesse for a guy that big, who stands out that much, to be so humble and kind and cool. In my entire life, I’ve never met a man like him.

  McDonald’s is the typical madhouse that it always is seven days a week at this hour of the day. Coming here on a weekday at lunchtime makes me think half of the city must be unemployed and trying to find a place for their kids to run free so they can just relax, take a breath, and have a cup of coffee. The tables are filled with parents, and the outdoor play area is overflowing with wild, screaming children.

  We stand behind a long line of fellow patrons. Little kids—siblings, probably—wrestle and fight with each other amongst their parents, jostling the crowd of desperate-looking people staring at the menus above the employees’ heads. Ahhh, McDonald’s . . .

  Dev rubs his hands together. “Who wants a Happy Meal?”

  Sammy jumps up and down with his hand up. “Me, me, me!”

  Dev looks down at me from his great height. “What would you like, Mama? Happy Meal? Fries and a shake? A sedative?”

  I smile, charmed. “I think I’ll have a fry and a sedative, please.”

  He frowns at me. “I didn’t hear any protein in your answer.”

  “Protein schmoteen. A fry will fill me up just fine, thank you very much.”

  “Huh-uh. You gotta have some protein. You want chicken, fish, or red meat?”

  I’m not in the mood to argue with him, so I shrug. “You pick.”

  He gives me a wry look. “Sorry, but I have yet to meet a woman who will allow me to select food for her and then be happy with the choice I make. Just tell me which one you hate the least.”

  “I hate beef the least.”

  He affects a Cajun accent. “An excellent choice, mademoiselle. I shall order you the smallest burger known to man.”

  I glance down and see my son about to blow a gasket, he’s so happy and full of three-year-old, animal-cracker-cookie-fueled energy. “If you don’t mind, I’ll take Sammy out to the playground to help him work off some of the energy he’s got bottled up.”

  We both watch Sammy spin circles and then fall to the floor onto his knees. I reach into my purse, pulling out my wallet.

  Dev puts his hand on my wrist to stop me. “Lunch is on me.”

  His hand is so warm, I want him to keep it there. “I can’t let you do that. You bought the pizzas.”

  “I don’t keep score. Besides, I get to write this off. The company will pay for it if I turn in my receipts. If you pay for it, that doesn’t happen.”

  “Should I feel bad about your boss paying for my lunch and my son’s lunch?”

  “No. He told me to, so we’re good.”

  I want to mull that over for a little while, and decide whether I should take advantage of Ozzie’s generosity, but unfortunately this is not the best place to do that. Sammy’s going to make himself nauseous with all the spinning he’s doing. “Okay. Thanks. We’ll be outside. I’m going to find a table out there for all of us. I don’t trust Sammy on his own, even though the air-conditioning would be nice.”

  Dev is looking at the menu, but he answers me. “Don’t worry about the heat. I’m used to it.”

  I take Sammy by the hand, and together we walk out to the playground. I barely get his shoes off his little feet before he’s running away, screaming like a wild animal suddenly let loose after years in captivity. He leaps onto the nearest net he can climb that will bring him into the tunnel system, which looks like a playground for giant hamsters.

  By some miracle, a family gets up from a table just as I’m looking around for a spot to claim, and I snag it, happy to dust off the salt and the fries and the various bits of lettuce that have fallen from their lunch. I sit down and the sun hits me in the face. Normally this would be immediate cause for complaint from me, but today, not so much. I close my eyes and soak up the beautiful warmth and the energy. Yes, it’s going to make me sweat, but I don’t care. Right now, my life is exactly how I want it, and that feeling doesn’t come to me very often. I’m going to enjoy it while it lasts and not question where it’s coming from.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  I probably shouldn’t make a big deal about having a McDonald’s baby burger and tiny order of fries delivered to me at a dirty plastic table out on a playground made for oversize hamsters, but when Dev arrives with that tray along with his dimpled smile, I can’t help but feel like I just won the lottery.

  Everyone stares at him as he walks by, even the children. It’s like a superstar has entered our midst. People are whispering, and I can almost guess what they’re saying; they’re wondering which NBA team he plays for.

  I pretend like I don’t notice how amazing he is. And I pretend not to feel proud that this man is here with me. I don’t really have the right; we’re just coworkers and maybe friends. But being friends is pretty awesome when it’s with a guy like Dev, so I allow myself to be happy.

  “Here you go.” He puts the tray down in the middle of our small table. “A little protein, some carbs, and a tiny bit of sugar to keep you sweet.” He hands me a miniature shake and grins.

  Taking it from him, I try to will my silly blush to go away. “I don’t normally allow myself to have those things. It’s like eating dessert in the middle of the day.”

  He sits down, somehow managing to fold himself nearly in half so he can fit onto the tiny chair. It looks really uncomfortable, but he’s not complaining. “I try to avoid sweets for the most part, but when it’s a special occasion I let myself indulge.” He holds up a second shake and wiggles it at me. Between his two big fingers, it looks to be about the size of a thimble. I doubt the contents will even spike his blood sugar a single notch.

  “You must not get out very often, if McDonald’s is your special occasion.” I giggle because I think I’m pretty funny, but when he answers, my laughter stops.

  “I’m not just at McDonald’s.” He takes a sip of his mini-shake. “I’m at McDonald’s with a very pretty lady and her cute son.” Dev turns toward the playground, so he doesn’t see my face turning red, thank goodness. “Where is the little bugger, anyway?”

  I search the clear areas of the giant plastic tubes and see a shock of my son’s hair going past one of them. “He’s up there. It looks like he’s either chasing someone or being chased.”

  Dev distributes the food on the table, leaving a small Happy Meal box for Sammy in front of the empty seat between us. “So what’s the rule around here?” he asks, when he’s done. “Does he get to eat after he plays, or does he have to come eat before?”

  I’m charmed that he’s thought to ask for my house rules. “Normally, I get him to eat two bites of each item and then he can go play for ten minutes, but then he has to come back for another two bites, and so on.”

  Dev nods. “Very reasonable. You’re a very fair mom.”

  “Thank you.” I’m not sure I can eat the food he’s put in front of me. It isn’t because I’m not hungry; it’s that he’s suddenly making me feel . . . strange. I want to run around the block a few times to work off my nervous energy. This emotion reminds me of how I felt in high school or college, whenever I had a crush on someone. Whenever I was . . . falling in love. Oh boy.

  “You want me to go get him?” Dev asks.

  “No, that’s fine, I’ll do it.” I stand and walk over to the oversized gerbil run, calling out to my son at my arrival. “Sammy?”

  He doesn’t answer, which isn’t surprising. He knows what I’m there for, and he’ll do anything to avoid having to eat when he’d rather play.

  “Watch this,” Dev says from behind
me. He walks over to a part of the tubes where kids can look down into a hole covered in a net. Walking under it while bent in half, he slowly stands once he’s directly below it. His head is soon covered in the net and then it’s up inside the tunnel.

  I don’t know how many kids are in there exactly, but by the sounds of the delighted squeals, there are at least five.

  “Sammy, paging Sammy,” Dev says in a booming voice. “You are needed at the French fry table immediately. Please report to the French fry table.”

  The distinct sounds of my son giggling warm my heart. His little body comes shooting out of the tunnel and down a slide five seconds later, and he runs over to my side. “Where are my fryth, Mama? Dev thayth I gotta eat ’em.”

  I follow my son and Dev back to the table, and sit down. I expect Sammy to eat two bites and tear off again, but instead he digs in, eating like I’ve starved him for two days. I marvel at how Dev is able to completely remove any McDonald’s headache from my brain, and at the same time, get my son to eat all of his lunch. Is there anything this man can’t do?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  After loading Sammy into the back of my car and strapping him into his car seat, I stand outside the running vehicle with Dev by the driver-side door. With the air-conditioning going full blast to remove both the heat and the stifling humidity from the interior, Sammy has already fallen asleep.

  “Well, that was an adventure,” Dev says, smiling.

  “Life with Sammy is always an adventure.”

  “So what are you going to do now?” Dev asks, tapping the top of my door with the side of his forefinger.

  “I’m going to go home and see what I can do to get my home office set up for this freelance work. I’ll probably go online and check some other sites too, to see if I can find some more stuff to do.”

  “Dating sites?”

  My face goes warm. “No, not dating sites. Freelance sites.”

  “You should maybe go on that dating site,” he says, not looking at me. “You shouldn’t stay in your house every night and just watch television alone.”

  My heart suddenly feels like it’s made of lead. Here I was thinking he was worth taking a risk for, and now he’s trying to get me to date other guys? How could I possibly have read that so wrong?

  “What makes you think I do that?” I ask, offended at the vision he’s created in my own head of me, sitting on my couch, alone in my family room being a grade-A lame-o.

  “It was you who told me you do that. Besides, I saw you on that dating website. You were just at the beginning part of the process. You haven’t even looked for a date yet, have you?”

  I cross my arms over my chest. “Have you?”

  He’s looking at me finally, shrugging. “Not exactly.”

  “Well, if I should look for dates, then you should too.”

  This is a ridiculous conversation. I’d really like to go on a date with him, but I’m not going to say that now.

  “I’ll do it if you’ll do it,” he says.

  “Fine.” I can go out with another guy. Maybe I’ll find one cuter than he is, even. Taller, too.

  “How about if we do our dinner together,” he pauses, “you know . . . the dinner that you’re paying for, and we’ll discuss our dating strategy going forward?”

  Do I want to speed off in a huff, burning rubber and leaving behind the acrid stench of tires and hurt feelings? Of course I do. I’m only human, after all, and it’s been a really long time since I’ve spent any time with a cool guy, and I don’t own a dildo. Yet. And of course, I’m more than a tiny bit sad that Dev is asking me to help him find the woman of his dreams, especially after it seemed like he was sending me signals telling me he was interested in dating me himself.

  Then it hits me: Maybe he’s a player. Maybe I’ve completely misread every single thing about him because I have no idea how to play these games.

  I lift my chin. “Okay. I think I could do that.”

  “When?” he asks.

  “How about Friday? I might be able to convince May to come over and watch the kids for a couple hours.”

  “Okay. I’ll ask my mom if she can watch my son. You ask May, and let me know what she says. If the babysitting is a go, I’ll pick you up at six-thirty.”

  “Do you know where you want to go? I need to know what I should wear.”

  He winks. “I’ll let you know.” He leans down and gives me a quick kiss on the cheek, again before I even realize what’s happening. The idea that he’s a player comes once more. This definitely feels like a game of some kind, but at the same time it doesn’t feel like he’s doing it to mess with me in a mean way. Not after the way he was with Sammy. A real player wouldn’t bother, right? I’m so confused. I watch him walk to the warehouse door and punch in the code to enter.

  The door starts to open, and he looks back at me, waving. “See you soon.”

  I wave back. “Yep. See you soon.” I climb into the car and put my seatbelt on. I should be exhausted; it’s been a long day. But I feel as light as air.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Wednesday night is finally here—my big night working with Lucky at the Blue Marine offices after hours.

  It’s still light outside when May arrives to watch the kids for me. She walks in without ringing the bell, and I’m standing in the family room with my purse over my shoulder. She is focused on finding the kids and doesn’t see me. “I’m here!” she shouts down the hallway toward the kitchen.

  I clear my throat so she’ll see me. She turns her head and smiles. “There you are! Wow, and don’t you look snazzy.”

  “Oh my god, you sound just like Mom.”

  May comes into the room and gives me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. I return the affection, hoping she doesn’t sense my nervousness in my embrace.

  “Are you freaking out?” she asks, holding me out at arm’s length, staring into my eyes as if she can act as a human lie-detector that way.

  So much for hiding my emotions. “Yes. Does it show that much?”

  “No. You look snazzy and confident.”

  I shake my head at her. “You are such a terrible liar.” I turn my attention toward the staircase. “Kids! Auntie May is here to hang out with you!”

  Something that sounds very much like a herd of very small wildebeests comes next, as the children charge down the staircase. The first one to the bottom is Sophie. Her feet barely hit the floor before she’s running and throwing herself against her aunt. “Auntie May! You haven’t been here in forever!”

  May hugs Sophie, who’s clinging to her waist, while rolling her eyes at me. “So dramatic. You know I was here just last week.”

  Sophie’s voice is muffled as she speaks into May’s shirt. “But you never do sleepovers anymore.”

  “I have a lot of work, now that I have a different job, so it’s harder for me to do sleepovers. But I’m here tonight, right?”

  “Yes!”

  Melody is the next child to appear. She arrives at a more sedate pace, waiting for her sister to detach herself from Auntie May before she holds her arms up for a hug. “Hi, Auntie May. I’m so glad you’re here.” She smiles sweetly, like only my little Melody can. I’m so proud of her for not laying a guilt trip on her aunt.

  May’s face melts a little. “Oh, sweetie, I’m really glad to be here, too. I think it has been too long since I got my cuddle on.”

  Sammy arrives last, carrying an armload of toys. It’s a miracle he didn’t tumble down the stairs head over heels with the pile he’s got. I glare at his sisters, because they should’ve helped him out. I wasn’t there, but I know exactly what happened. They left their little brother up there to fend for himself so that they could be the first ones to hug their aunt. I have no idea why it’s such a competitive sport with them.

  “Do you need some help, Sammy?” I ask.

  “No. I have my toyth. I’m very thtrong.” He’s a foot away from May when he opens his arms and drops everything in a giant pile. Pieces of
toys along with whole action figures scatter in all directions like shrapnel from a bomb. He walks over to his aunt and holds his hands up in expectation.

  May puts Melody down and takes Sammy into an embrace. He clings to her like a baby monkey, wrapping his arms around her neck and his legs around her waist, burying his face in her chest.

  Her arms wrap around him and squeeze. She closes her eyes and inhales the scent of his hair. “I missed you, Sammers. Nobody gives little boy hugs like you do.”

  “My hugth are the betht, aren’t they?”

  “They’re not better than mine,” says Melody, frowning at her brother.

  May is too sly for their games. “Sammy, you give the best little boy hugs, and Melody, you give the best little girl hugs, and Sophie gives the best big girl hugs.”

  Sophie rolls her eyes. “I knew you were going to say that.”

  Attempting to head off an argument, I speak up. “Okay, kids, who’s ready to go have some dinner?”

  Sammy wriggles out of May’s arms and drops to the floor, running over to grab his Spider-Man and Superman action figures. “I’m ready!” He holds them both out in flying position, Superman head first and Spider-Man butt first. Sammy has told me many times this is how Spider-Man prefers to get around, and I’m not one to argue; I really don’t know him that well.

  Melody raises her hand. “Me! I’m ready!”

  Sophie rolls her eyes. “Whatever.”

  May reaches over and tickles Sophie’s neck, making her giggle a little. I can tell my daughter would rather not be reacting like that, but May knows her sensitive spot.

  “What’s up with this whatever stuff?” May asks my oldest. “Since when are we saying whatever to each other?”

  “Didn’t you hear?” I ask. “It’s the latest thing with all the big kids. And since Sophie is a big kid, she’s decided it needs to be an integral part of her vocabulary.”

  “Well, if she says it when I’m here, she’s going to get it.” May gives her niece a fake stern look.

  Sophie gets a sly little smile. “Whatever.”