Scrambled Babies

by Babe Hayes

  “Well, that’s easy for you. You work in words all the time.”

  “I don’t call writing a sports column not working in words.”

  “Yeah, but sports, you know, I write any way I want. I’m not really a writer. I simply report guy stuff. I don’t have to create imaginary worlds.” Steve checked his watch. “Let’s get out of here.” Steve started to pick up Ryan’s travelseat. “We have about a half hour before the plane leaves. Let’s go to our gate.” Steve checked his ticket. “What was it? Ten?”

  “That’s what I have.” Paeton gathered her children and walked side by side with Steve through the terminal to gate ten. She knew she had to sever this impossible relationship immediately.

  But then she knew that might be impossible as well.

  #

  Everything about the flight to L.A. felt normal. The sound of Madison’s video game was comforting. Kelsey’s tiny waving arms and cooing noises were wonderfully familiar. Glimmers of new dialogue for Paeton’s screenplay promised progress. She could put her life back on track now. Her brief entanglement with Steve Kaselman was over. She could now focus on caring for her children, writing the screenplay, and buying her new home. She felt so warm and secure at the thought of being surrounded by Alice and her friends. She wondered what school Maddy would attend.

  In the same instant, she laughed ironically to herself—the flight to L.A. was anything but normal. It was rather unsettling, really. Steve and Ryan were three seats back across the aisle. Shouldn’t they have been sitting with her and her children? There was something very right about that image. But sadly, there was something very unattainable about it. Her past flashed danger signal after danger signal.

  There also was nothing normal about Steve’s touch. Or her touching him. Why was their touching so, so invading? Sex, she told herself. It’s the sex, stupid! Still, her heart couldn’t accept an answer so glib. But she certainly knew better from her unfortunate past experience than to follow a road promising a dead end, like a sexual affair with a jock.

  Paeton heard baby noises behind her. She couldn’t resist a backward glance. Steve wasn’t looking at her. He had responded to Ryan’s gurgle as well. Steve certainly made it in the “hunk” department. She had never seen a face so handsome and a manner so jaunty. He carried his broad chest high and straight. His highly developed athleticism showed in his walk and the dexterous movement of his arms. But he was human. The nickname she had given him was appropriate—his vest was still too tight.

  As always, it was Steve’s eyes that took her breath away. But what was really behind those forbidding eyes? She turned forward again. He had not seen her looking at him.

  Even though they had no say in the matter, sitting apart was best, Paeton reassured herself. After all, what did they have to talk about now, anyway? As they had agreed, “separate lives, separate worlds.” Nonetheless, she was compelled to steal furtive glances at him when she visited the restroom and stretched her legs. Whenever he caught her at it, he merely smiled back. No words were spoken. Was that flutter in her chest a signal from her heart?

  The short, bizarre relationship with Steve Kaselman, Mr. Mom, father to a child, the “twin” of her daughter, had concluded as abruptly as it had begun. There was no future to Paeton and Steve. The purple magic-marker heart that sent her reeling upon her eerie revisit to the catastrophic spot in JFK concerned two other lovers. “P + S” did not equal Paeton and Steve—now or ever!

  Paeton stole another glance behind her. He was lovingly engrossed in his son. The image brought a jolt—the promise of a family with too-tight-vest? Her reaction caused her to wonder: After having once looked into the eyes of Steve Kaselman, could any future for Paeton McPhilomy ever be normal?

  #

  Paeton’s life had been reassuringly comfortable the past few days back at the hotel. Kelsey and Maddy were the wonderful children she had nurtured them to be. She had made substantial headway on her screenplay and was loving it. Life was good again. The one thing nagging her, besides the absence of Steve Kaselman, was the Alice house. When was Bryce Thryce going to call her to finish the transaction? Surely the owner was back in town by now. And since there wouldn’t be any other offers for the “dog house,” why didn’t Thryce call her?

  She decided to get Kelsey and Madison into a cab and drive past the house. Her writing had gone very well that morning before the children woke up, and she was ready to relax for the rest of the day. She would roll the next few scenes around in her head during the cab ride to her new home. She got so excited thinking about it, a wonderful shiver scurried through her.

  The morning was mild and fragrant, the sun stretching out over the trees. Paeton’s anticipation rose, because she had never seen the house in the morning sun. When they reached the place, she was startled to find two cars parked at the curb. One she knew was Bryce’s. The other was unmistakable as well. It was a sleek convertible painted in the ComfyDype motif and bearing the temporary license plate M R M O M.

  Mr. Mom? Steve Kaselman? What was he doing here? No! This was her house! Fred had promised! It was a dog to everyone else in Hollywood!

  Paeton leaped from the cab. “Wait here!” she instructed the driver. Come with me, Maddy.” She grabbed Kelsey’s travelseat and steamed up the front sidewalk, oblivious to the flowers still cavorting along the path.

  Once inside, she spotted Steve, Bryce, and a woman she didn’t know, who seemed to be in charge of Ryan. They were talking by the heart-shaped pool. She burst into the yard. “Steven Kaselman! What do you think you are doing here?” she yelled, barely on the brink of civility.

  Steve smiled a big hello and said, “Hey, Paeton! This is the house I told you about. I bought it yesterday. All I have to do is wait for my loan to be approved. Wanted to take another look at it before I’m off to Anaheim.” Apparently, Steve had not caught the “Steven” in Paeton’s challenge. “What do you think? You like it?”

  Now she was close enough to believe Steve could see the fire coming out of her eyes. “Like it? I love it! I thought I bought this house a week ago!” She moved so she could get to Bryce Thryce, who was trying to hide behind Steve. “Mr. Thryce, what is the meaning of this?”

  Steve stepped aside in astonishment as Paeton’s forefinger became a weapon ready to penetrate Thryce’s heart.

  “I suggested you write a full-price offer, Ms. McPhilomy. You do remember that? Don’t you? Don’t you? Don’t you?”

  “Yes, I remember that, but Fred said this house was a dog! That no one else would ever make an offer—!” Paeton never cried in front of anyone but her children and husband, and those times were rare. She was crying now, but inside—from anger and heartbreak. There would never be another Alice house!

  Steve face wore genuine surprise. “Paeton, I had no idea that you, uh, Bryce never told me that, uh, you’re welcome to visit. Neighbors? Remember?”

  But Paeton had to believe he was acting. The coincidence was too remarkable.

  Of course! He had bought the house to spite her! Now he was making fun of her by pretending to be totally surprised that she had wanted to buy it. And all because she had accused him of being a jerk jock. He bought “her house” just to show her he didn’t have to have a macho house! She felt so furious and so betrayed, she was shaking. And right when she thought there might be a reason for “together worlds and together lives.”

  Look at that ridiculous grin! If he thinks he can get off that easily with me, he better think again! Paeton hoped Steve couldn’t see the tears balanced precariously on the edge of each eyelid. She felt as if her heart had been flattened by a steamroller. “I hope you are very happy in your new home, Mr. Kaselman.” Paeton spit out her words in castigation. “And as for you, Mr. Thryce, I will take my, and all my new Hollywood friends’ real estate business, elsewhere. To someone who has appendages that allow him to walk upright.” Paeton picked up Kelsey rather abruptly, grabbed Madison with the other hand, and fumed from the Alice house.

  “Paet
on? Wait! Maybe we can—” She heard Steve call after her. Then she heard nothing but her pulse pounding in her ears.

  Paeton reached the waiting taxi. The cabby was leaning on the fender. He came around to open the cab door.

  “Take us back to the hotel, please.” Paeton’s speech was clipped.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Paeton sat with clenched fists, fighting to keep herself from coming apart. She had so counted on owning that house. She wanted to hit something. She wanted to hurt something. And that something was Steve Kaselman!

  “I don’t think you should be mad at Steve, Mommy.” Madison gently took her mother’s hand.

  “Oh, you don’t, do you? And why is that?” Paeton tried not to take her hurt and anger out on Madison. She put her other hand on top of Madison’s.

  “Because he’s a nice man. He wouldn’t do anything bad to you. Not on purpose.”

  “He wouldn’t? Why not?” Paeton would love to believe Madison’s words, naive as they appeared to be.

  “No, he wouldn’t. Because you want to know why?”

  “Yes, I would like to know why.”

  “‘Cause his name rhymes with my name.” Madison took her hand away and folded her arms summarily.

  “Steve and Madison?” Paeton told herself to humor Madison. After all, she had nothing to do with breaking Paeton’s heart. “I don’t understand. How does that rhyme, honey?”

  “Well, my name is Maddy. And his name is Daddy. Maddy and Daddy. See?” She nodded a triumphant smile.

  Oh! The rhyme spiked through Paeton’s heart. Her hand went to her chest in an unconscious attempt to ease the unanticipated wound. How much did Madison see? What did she know that Paeton didn’t know? Was she hinting that she wanted Paeton and Steve to become Mommy and Daddy? Or was it as simple as Madison wanting a daddy so she could have a family again?

  Damn! Damn! Damn! Damn the sinister carnival ride that had plagued her life ever since that fateful gaze—up to heaven, down to hell, up to heaven, down to hell. As the taxi rudely jounced her over a pothole, she sensed the ride was far from over.

  #

  Steve was fidgeting in a cab on his way to Bryce Thryce’s office to discuss the house on Oakhurst. He was still unsettled from having Paeton McPhilomy so near him on the flight back from Chicago a few days ago—so near him and yet so far away. True, he now had Ryan back, and he had conned Ollie with that story explaining Steve’s abrupt departure the other day—needing to see Ryan’s doctor in New York, blah, blah, blah. And it had worked out perfectly. He couldn’t wait to get the hot convertible with special MR MOM license plates that Ollie had thrown into the deal to encourage Steve to spend more time in L.A. for promotional purposes. Now Steve could work his sportscasting assignments from L.A. as well as New York.

  And now that he was a multimillionaire, and Paeton would be in L.A. for a while, the house on Oakhurst made sense. So did flying Greta out here so that Ryan could have his regular nanny rather than a succession of strangers from the hotel service. Greta had enthusiastically agreed and would arrive tonight.

  So everything made sense to Steve except his lack of a relationship with Paeton. Yes, they had been leading separate lives in separate worlds since the trip back from Chicago. The problem was that Steve hated that part—separate lives, separate worlds.

  He thought back to that flight. The back of Paeton’s head, which was almost all he saw of her, drove him as crazy as the front. But what really drove him crazy was her touch. What happened when he felt her finger on his mouth? He was still trying to figure it out. Certainly the sexual response was instant and powerful. But there was something new that happened. Something significantly different from his reactions in his past relationships with other women. Something gentle. Something that reached his soul. Something that he wanted to last—permanently.

  Had Crystal affected him that way? Crystal had been great in bed, there was no doubt about that. And Steve had loved her. Hadn’t he? Or was it the glamour of her beauty-contest aura? Or did he finally want a family? Something had always been missing. Sure, Crystal had a great mouth. That was always an instinctive requirement. Not as bewitching as Paeton’s, of course. Paeton had the ultimate female mouth. But Crystal had never been—was it gentle? What was it Paeton offered that no other female had ever stirred in him? Well, whatever it was, he had to have more.

  The cab deposited him in front of InKredabal Realty. Steve walked up to the receptionist. Knockout! Truly gorgeous. Sex oozing out of every suntanned pore. But all Steve could see was Paeton McPhilomy. Admit it, Steve, Paeton has messed you up, and that is an understatement!

  “May I help you?” asked the twenty-something, flaming redhead.

  “I’m Steve Kaselman to see Bryce Thryce.”

  The redhead’s eyes lingered on him. There was the promise of bedroom swimming in those emeralds. “One moment, please.” She pushed a button on the switchboard. “Bryce. Mr. Kaselman to see you.”

  A voice came back. “Right out. Right out. Right out.”

  “Mr. Thryce will be out momentarily, Mr. Kaselman. Is there anything else I can do for you? May I call you Steve? I’ve seen and admired you many times on TV. I’m a big sports fan.”

  Steve could tell this was a set of rhetorical questions and flattery he had heard many versions of many times. She did look ready to back up her offer with superb performance. Steve had experienced the same thing in New York, but in L.A. the women were—what was it?—smoother.

  Steve decided to forgo the temptation and sat down without answering.

  Funny, now that he thought about it, he really felt no temptation. He shook his head in wonderment. Paeton McPhilomy certainly had him wrapped up. “Separate worlds, separate lives,” ha! He’d find some excuse to call her soon.

  “Mr. Kaselman, how fabulous to meet you!” Bryce Thryce bopped out of his office, his diamond-studded hand extended.

  “You too, Bryce. Call me Steve, please.” Steve admired the guy’s firm handshake, even though Bryce dressed like someone on a perpetual trip to a rock concert.

  “Okay! Steve. Great! Car’s outside. Car’s outside. Car’s outside.” Bryce bustled out the door, Steve obediently following.

  As soon as they arrived at the house, Steve was even more certain he wanted this home. When he had first seen it, he was preoccupied with the scrambled babies. Now, with the White Rabbit still in conversation with Alice, the house seemed to beckon to him, and Steve sat in Bryce’s car drinking in the place.

  As a youngster, he had always loved chess. His grandfather taught him to play when he was eight, and he took to it as he took to football some years later. His mother, an English teacher, showed him how Lewis Carroll had worked a chess game into the book Through the Looking-Glass. Then Steve took that intellectual exercise to his high school chess club. Alice and all the exotic characters had always stayed with him. Now this house was a destiny-type thing. He had to have it, and he hadn’t even seen the inside!

  “Steve, Steve, Steve. Let’s go inside. Inside is great! Inside is great! Inside is great!”

  Steve felt his teeth clenching as they had during the infant melee. If he could make it through the thrice of Bryce, he would be okay.

  The inside of the Alice house was everything the outside promised, and a half hour later Steve was in Bryce’s office writing up a full-price offer of a million one. He put the pen down after signing the final addendum. “So when do I know we have a contract?”

  Bryce tilted back in his chair, his radio blaring heavy metal behind him. “Steve, Steve, Steve. This is a full-price offer. The owner is back in town today, and all he has to do is sign it. I think you can consider this a done deal. Done deal. Done deal! Just need loan approval.”

  Steve pushed his chair back and stood up. He couldn’t resist. “Great! Great! Great! Thanks for the help. So we can close as soon as my loan is approved?”

  “Right. Right. Right. My lender will have it done in about twenty days. Maybe sooner.”

/>   “No rush.”

  “Time is money. Time is money. Time is money. I’ll set up the loan appointment.”

  “Thank you, Bryce. Mornings are good. Call me.” Steve extended his hand.

  Bryce answered with his. “We should be able to close in three weeks. Three weeks. Three weeks.”

  “Sounds good, Bryce. Good-bye.”

  Steve left the office. Mr. Mom wasn’t doing so badly. The purchase of the new home gave him a warm feeling he had never had before. You couldn’t buy a home in New York City. Manhattan homes had no front lawn or garden and pool in the backyard. Steve hadn’t had a home since high school. He wanted to share his feelings of warmth and happiness about the new house with someone.

  Who was the first person who came to mind? Paeton McPhilomy! Surprise, surprise! But Paeton’s words echoed in his mind, “separate lives, separate worlds.” They hadn’t spoken much on the plane trip back to L.A. She was definitely drifting quietly downstream away from him and Ryan.

  Besides, she would probably think a house with a rabbit on the front door was childish. Still, it certainly was un-jock-like. She would have to admit that.

  Paeton and her jock-block! There must be some way to overcome it. Even though she had given him hell verbally, she certainly seemed to respond the times they touched. Steve didn’t think he was imagining it.

  He would. He would definitely call her when he got to the hotel.

  But what if she didn’t have any time for him? He hated the idea of being rejected. He certainly wasn’t used to it.

  Naw! Forget it, Steve. Forget Paeton McPhilomy. Although the rest of your future looks bright, like it or not, get used to a future without that bewitching mouth!