The Manny

by Piper Rayne

  “He was spotted at LAX this morning with Gwen Sinclair.” The flirtatious eyes and smirk he’s been giving me all night are gone. Now it’s the ‘I’m sorry I’m the one who had to tell you’ look.

  “I’m not surprised. The man never makes seeing his kids a priority. Of course, he’d pick the one actress I hate in this industry.” I pull my feet from Vance’s hands and walk over to the fridge, grabbing the bottle of wine.

  “You hate Gwen?” he asks, following me to stand across from me, leaning against my counter.

  “It’s stupid, but she got a part over me and I’ve always thought she did something sleazy to get it. I know I nailed that audition and I was told it was as good as mine, but then I got a call a few days later that they’d decided to go another direction.” I pour myself a hefty glass.

  I shouldn’t have said anything to Vance, I don’t want him to think I’m difficult. What kind of actress holds it against another that she got the part? It’s just… something never sat right with me about how everything went down. Regardless, I shouldn’t hold her reputation of being everyone’s plaything against her. Who knows if it’s true.

  He nods, not looking at me but down at the floor now. “Do you have any beer?”

  “I have a few in the fridge for when my dad visits. Help yourself.”

  The urge to pull out my phone and check out TMZ to see if they have the whole story on Carver is strong, but I resist—for now.

  I lower my voice so Via or Payne can’t hear me. “You know the thing is, I don’t give a shit who he fucks—it’s the kids. He told me he would still be out of town. I mean, can’t he see his children at all? Not even to take them to get an ice cream cone or something?” I down a large slug of my wine just as the doorbell rings.

  “I’ll get that.” Vance walks out of the room.

  Should I have kept my mouth shut? He’s taking a chance on casting me in a leading role, I coerced him into being my manny, and now I want him to sign up as my therapist too?

  God, get a grip, Layla.

  Vance walks back in a minute later with a large pizza in his hand.

  “Let me pay you.” I move for my bag, but he grabs a hold of my wrist.

  “I got it.”

  Payne runs in the room, free of all his Nerf stuff, and Vance raises his hand for a high-five. “Great job cleaning up, buddy. I had a fun day.” Payne smacks his hand and Vance looks over to me. “Same time tomorrow?”

  I nod.

  “Are you not staying for pizza?” Payne’s voice sounds like it does when his father leaves.

  Could they really have connected that fast?

  “Tomorrow, I’m thinking…” Vance puts his finger to his lips. “Trampoline park?”

  “Yay!” Payne jumps around with his arms in the air.

  While Payne celebrates my gaze finds Vance and we share a look. I have no idea what it is but it’s weighted with emotion. Almost like he’s apologizing, which is absurd. It’s not his fault my ex can’t take time away from his latest conquest to see his own kids.

  “See you, Via,” Vance says with a small wave.

  She smiles over her mouthful of crackers and I follow Vance out of the kitchen.

  “Thank you again. Payne had a good time, I can tell.”

  He stops at the front door. “I had fun. You have a great kid.”

  I’m not sure he means it, but Payne so rarely receives compliments that I’m glad someone sees the diamond inside of him.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say, trying not to let the note of sadness I’m feeling at his departure creep into my voice.

  “See you.”

  He turns and speeds down my walkway, no backward glances or lingering looks, which shouldn’t surprise me. I’m sure like everyone else he has a life he wants to get back to.

  With a small smile I head back into the kitchen, to the two most important things in my own life, telling myself that one day I’ll find someone who shares that sentiment, but not really believing it to be true.

  Chapter 10

  Layla

  On day two of Manny Vance, I walk into the house with the baby and it’s a completely different scene than the night prior. The first thing I notice is that they’re not running around. Instead, Vance is sprawled out on the couch with his feet on my coffee table and Payne is cuddled under his arm fast asleep.

  Vance smiles that panty-melting grin he seems to have been born with. As soon as we enter the room Via screams and wiggles out of my hold, running over to Vance and hitting him on the leg.

  Vance tries to get up, but it’s clear from the way he’s trying to extricate himself that he’s afraid he’ll wake Payne, so I rush over, pick up Payne and hold him to my chest.

  “He does this sometimes when he’s going through a growth spurt. Experience has shown me that it’s better to let him sleep through the night and double up on breakfast otherwise he can be a bear. I’ll be right back,” I whisper, casting a glance Via’s way. “Can you keep an eye on her for a sec?”

  “I can take him,” he offers, standing up with his hands out.

  “That’s okay. I’ve got it.”

  Fear flashes across his face and I stifle a laugh so as not to wake up Payne. Apparently, Vance is okay with four-year-olds but not kids under two.

  Tiptoeing upstairs, I lay Payne on his bed, slowly strip him of his jeans and tuck him in. I can’t help but stare at him while he’s sleeping. I swear until I had kids I didn’t even know this was an urge I’d ever have. He has his dad’s prominent nose and perfect lips and I know that one day he’ll be breaking hearts like him, but I know it’s going to be my job to teach Payne to respect women and the institution of marriage. I sit down on the edge of the bed and brush the blond strands from his eyes, recalling last night’s dinner and how he had a zillion stories about Vance and how cool he is. I was worried at first, but this manny idea has turned out to be great for him.

  When I reach the bottom of the stairs, Via’s giggle echoes into the foyer.

  What could they be doing?

  I round the corner finding Via pressing a button on the ball machine that’s been jammed for the past two months. I kept meaning to buy another one because she had loved it so much, but life and time haven’t really been on my side.

  “You fixed it?” I ask, making my way through the room, picking up the Legos, the Ninja Turtles, and every other mismatched toy strewn on the floor.

  “Yeah,” he answers, leaning back on the couch with his legs stretched out, snatching balls from the machine right after they pop out, making Via laugh even more.

  “You hungry, Via?” I ask, dropping all the toys into the one mass bin they’re stored in. Long gone are my anal days when I’d spend an hour arranging each category of toy back into organized bins. Life no longer allows me such luxuries.

  “Yum,” she says.

  Unlike last night Vance doesn’t seem in a rush to get out of here, which, if I’m honest, secretly pleases me.

  “Would you like to stay for dinner?” I ask him, and before you get all judgy, know that I’m doing it because he’s been so great the last two days and dinner is the least I can do.

  “You cook?” His right eyebrow quirks up.

  “I thought you would have realized by now that I’m not some spoiled starlet.” I wink and then spin on my heel and head into the kitchen, not waiting for an answer.

  My head is in the fridge by the time I hear Via’s light footsteps enter the room. When I glance over I see that Vance is right behind her.

  “Honestly?” He thinks he’s so suave, his hip resting on the island in the kitchen, his arms crossed and that damn smirk on display.

  I take the chicken I had in the fridge and place it on the counter then turn to face him, waiting for him to continue.

  “I thought you were a prima donna, making me come to the trailer to present the script when a courier could have sent it over.”

  I unwrap the butcher paper, move over to the cabinet, and grab a knife and
cutting board. “I apologize for that. I’d gotten off the phone with Carver minutes before and it put me in a bad mood. In my head I was thinking if they want me so bad, show me.” I shook my head, staring down at the raw chicken. “I’m sorry.”

  “You should be happy I don’t go off first impressions.” He chuckles, and I remember our conversation from Yolk Me. He comes over and takes the knife from my hands. “I got this. What are we making?”

  “Stir-fry.”

  He licks his lips. “Yum.”

  “Yum,” Via echoes from where she’s playing on the floor with one of her toys.

  Vance glances her way and then laughs at her, his eyes lighting in amusement.

  It’s like overload for my brain. Do I focus on how hot it looked when he licked his lips or think about how adorable it was when he laughed at my daughter? A girl can only take so much. At least one who’s been celibate as long as I have.

  Not noticing my reaction, he takes one of the chicken breasts and places it on the cutting board.

  “You know how to cook?” I ask him, raising my eyebrows and mimicking his earlier question.

  “Nah, but I do know my way around a good set of breasts. Have faith.”

  I laugh at his bad joke and as I back away, I try my damnedest not to think about what he could probably do with my breasts if I let him.

  An hour later, we’re at the table finishing up dinner while Via’s spreads what’s left of hers all over the tray of her high chair.

  “Thanks for dinner,” Vance says, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

  “You can hardly thank me when you did half the work.”

  Vance chopped the chicken and the vegetables. All I did was make the rice and mix the sauce.

  “I never cook for myself. I came back from my hometown a few weeks ago and I haven’t had a home-cooked meal since. This was great.” He pushes his empty plate away from him and leans back in his chair.

  “Where are you from?” I ask, curious to know more.

  “Up in Oregon. Small town.”

  I nod. “Small towns are nice. I grew up in one, too.” The memory of my own small-town upbringing in Kentucky flashes through my mind.

  “They can be. I bet when you cross the county line you get a police escort.” He smiles.

  A small laugh huffs out of me. “Yeah, but I’m also the first one they call when the town needs money.”

  No joke. And I want to help my town, they helped me become who I am, but it’s hard to hand a check over to the girl who bullied you throughout grade school.

  “Your parents still there?” he asks. I’m guessing his are still in his home town. Otherwise why would he return? I can’t remember the last time I went home.

  “No. They’ve moved on up. Malibu now.”

  I spare him the tragic child star tale about how all the money they have was money I earned. Not that I begrudge taking care of my parents, but when you’re fourteen and the only breadwinner in a family there’s an unbelievable amount of pressure to succeed. Maybe that’s why I’ve been okay since Carver left. I’m used to being the one who has to step up and take care of everybody else’s needs, leaving my own on the backburner.

  “That’s pretty close. Must be nice for the kids.”

  I shrug, pushing my plate away and taking in the state of Via’s high chair tray. “Yeah, they watch the kids when they aren’t traveling.”

  I walk over to the sink because Via’s about to have rice as a headpiece if I don’t wipe her down soon.

  On my way back to the table, I find Vance’s gaze on me. He has a way of making me feel wanton with just one look. As though he’s itching to have his hands on me, and is struggling to control himself. I wish I didn’t like it so much.

  Pulling my own gaze away from him, I concentrate on cleaning Via up. When I pick her up from the high chair, she rests her head on my shoulder.

  “Give me five?” I ask.

  He stands up, collecting his dish and mine. “I think I can keep myself busy.” His smirk is on display as he walks toward the sink.

  “Please don’t clean. I’ll get to it—”

  “When?” His eyebrows quirk up.

  “I manage.” Via goes limp in my arms. Daycare must have been a busy place today.

  “Go put your daughter to bed, Layla.” With his back turned to me, he starts moving the dishes from the stove over to the sink and I hear the faucet turn on before I reach the bottom of the stairs.

  Via should have a bath. I should rock her to sleep like I usually do, but she’s out like she’s the mother of two young kids, so I change her diaper and clothes and place her into her crib, where she settles again after a few moments.

  Moving on to Payne’s room, I see that he’s moved from the bed to the floor.

  I slide my hands underneath him in an effort to get him back into his bed. “Oh, you’re so big now,” I whisper to myself and place him on the mattress, pulling the covers up over him.

  The picture of him and Carver next to the bed pulls me in to remembering what I thought my life would be like. We were going to beat the odds. We’d win the Hollywood lottery and be the ones to enjoy successful careers and a successful marriage. Now I’d just be happy if the kids saw more of him in person than they do in that ridiculous sour cream commercial he’s in.

  I mean, come on—the man doesn’t even eat anything white. I’m not lying. Nope. Sour cream, mayonnaise, yogurt. He won’t touch anything dairy that’s white. Maybe that revelation should’ve been my first inkling that something was off.

  I sigh and rise up off the bed, leaving Payne’s room and making a quick stop in my own before I head back downstairs. I give myself the once-over in my mirror, taking in my tired eyes and the grey underneath. After a quick dab of face powder, I pinch my cheeks to bring out their natural rosiness, readjust my breasts in my bra so they’re sitting pretty and decide I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. For what, I can’t be sure.

  Do I want Vance? Hell, yes. But I’m smart enough to know I shouldn’t. But no one’s ever been hurt by basking in the feeling of someone else’s eyes smoldering when they look at you, right? Not to mention, I’m a single mother and a working actress with no real social life unless it’s something my PR people tell me to go to. Sue me if it feels nice to be wanted after having a husband who couldn’t stop wanting everyone else.

  The dishwasher is loaded and Vance is cleaning Via’s high chair tray when I reach downstairs.

  “You have any idea how long it took me to figure out how to unlatch this?” He eyes the soapy tray he’s scouring with a sponge.

  I chuckle. “I know, they should call it adult-proofing. When Payne was younger, I had this toilet seat lock…” I shake my head—I should not be telling this story.

  “Yeah?” he says, looking over his shoulder at me, a laugh ready behind his smile.

  “Never mind.”

  He turns around, drying his hands on the dishtowel. “No, no, tell me.”

  I prop myself up on the counter, tucking my hands under my thighs. “We were away at a hotel and I woke up in the middle of the night. Long story short, I ended up with my ass in the sink.”

  He buckles over in laughter. “Shower wasn’t a better option?”

  I pick up the hot pad next to me and throw it at him. “It was two in the morning. My brain wasn’t functioning.”

  His jeans mould to his ass when he bends over to pick up the hot pad and I don’t bother pretending not to stare. He eyes the drawer under my legs where the hot pad belongs. I should jump off the counter, take the hot pad from his hands and put it back in the drawer.

  I don’t.

  It’s like a slow-motion montage in a movie. He saunters over, one hand landing on the inside of my knee, easing it apart while his other hand opens the drawer. The hot pad drops and he shuts the drawer as I swallow hard, his eyes never leaving mine. His other hand pushes my other leg to the side and my breaths become shallow.

  My girly parts are on high alert, begging me to slide
forward on the counter, let his hands skim the outside of my legs and mould to my ass.

  One kiss won’t hurt anyone. I could just get it out of my system and move on. There’s nothing wrong with that.

  “Layla.” My name sounds like a soft plea from his lips.

  “Yes?” I press my lips together and his gaze drops, taking in the motion.

  I realize too late that his hands have moved to the outside of my thighs. He pulls me forward and my hands fall to his shoulders.

  “Just one taste,” he says, one hand snaking its way up my neck until he tilts my head and his lips crash down onto mine.

  Our kiss is sweet and raw and still it leaves me starving for more. It all mixes together into a cocktail that has be drunk off of Vance Rose. Our tongues glide, our lips meld, and the kiss is like the moment on the Fourth of July when the first firework blasts through the night sky while the crowd oohs and awws, eager for what’s to come. I know by the way he’s devouring me that our kiss is merely the promise of what Vance can do to my body.

  Our hands become frantic, clawing and grasping and taking whatever we can. He lifts me from the counter and my back smacks against the wall. I instinctively wrap my legs around his waist, the rigid length of him grinding against my center. Our tongues delve deeper, our mouths explore even more while my hands twirl the light brown hair at the base of his neck.

  “Mommy?”

  “Shit,” Vance murmurs, steps away from me, and my feet barely land on the floor in time to catch myself.

  Vance turns around, opening the fridge door to hide his upper half inside.

  “Payne.” I try to catch my breath. “What’s wrong, baby?”

  “I’m hungry.”

  “Okay, let’s get you fed now that you’re up.”

  I guide him over to the kitchen table and upon my return to the kitchen cabinets Vance finally shuts the fridge door. I hope I don’t look as dishevelled as him.

  “I better get going. See you two tomorrow.” He smiles, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

  Payne’s already half passed out on the table, but manages to give Vance a high-five on his way out.