Scrambled Babies

by Babe Hayes

  There he was, sitting directly across from her. His eyes seeking intimate contact. She knew better than to connect under these circumstances. Why was he so indiscreet about where they were when he flashed those demons at her?

  Paeton knew her primary task was to perform on the show with Steve at her side without being affected by him. Her impulsive reaction to Steve’s entrance was totally that—impulsive. She could learn to control that. And the way to achieve that control was to be around him. Moreover, her impulsive reaction was only sexual. The assignment she had given herself was to put Steve Kaselman and his eyes in the correct perspective. After all, she was a mature woman. She had been through this revisit to adolescence, and now it was time to fold it up and put it away in the drawer of fond memories.

  A young, well-dressed woman sat on Royale’s left. She had a digital recorder and clipboard filled with notes. She turned on the recorder, punched up a clean file, and started writing.

  Royale continued. “Well, does anyone have anything to say before I outline the show?”

  Fred spoke up. “Royale, we want you to know how excited we are about meeting this challenge and resolving this baby crisis forever. My client and, I’m sure, Mr. Kaselman, are eager to hear what you have to say.”

  “Amen to that,” said Steve.

  Royale beamed her TV smile. “Well, good. Good. I’m excited too.”

  Royale got up and wandered around behind the conferees. Paeton felt her approaching, then felt her hands on her shoulders. “Paeton, I can’t honestly say I know how you feel. I have no children of my own. I helped my grandmother raise seven brothers and sisters, but the glory of having my own child, not yet.”

  She left Paeton and walked around behind Steve. She put her hands on his shoulders. “And Steve. A single father. America’s Mr. Mom for a while, and I hope, soon to be again. I can’t be in your head either. But I think my show will solve your dilemma—that is, if you are the parents I think you are.”

  Fred jumped in as Royale resumed her seat. “Exactly how do you see this show presented, Royale?”

  “Well, first it has to be fun.” Paeton could tell how Royale’s mind was working. This was her business—entertaining TV audiences. Paeton didn’t relish the prospect of failing in front of a gawking world. How much would the pressure, the lights, the general disorientation, affect her ability to function?

  She glanced Steve’s way. She wondered if he was thinking the same thing. She let their eyes touch for a fleeting moment. Instant heat! Not a good idea, Paeton! She heard Royale addressing her.

  “—would you be amenable to that, Paeton?”

  Royale had been talking to her. She popped a quick glance at Fred, who was nodding her a “say-yes.” “Yes, fine with me,” she blurted out.

  “And Steve, you can be here that day as well? And if we have time, you don’t mind calls from viewers?” Royale winked a smile at him. “There are a lot of women out there who would love to find out if you’re available. You know, you and Paeton seemed to be an item there for a while. Can you face those kinds of questions?”

  “No problem, Royale. I can handle anything.” He was checking his calendar. “I have a meeting with the network that day, but it should be over in time to make the show.”

  An item. What is an item? It sounded like something with a price tag on it in a shop window. What were they worth as an item? And items broke when you played with them. Items didn’t last. They were found years later in an attic somewhere, still in pieces. Paeton’s mission in coming back to face Steve was to determine if what they had together amounted to nothing more than an item.

  Paeton felt a pair of eyes requesting a response. She focused her mind to see Royale looking directly at her. She again had missed the first part of the TV star’s remarks.

  “As I was saying, Paeton, you can’t fake this one! This is reality television. No tape to be edited. No words or gestures can be erased. Whatever you two do and say—well, it’s out there. And it will be out there forever.” She paused. “Do you understand? The way I have this show set up, you can convince the world you are the best parents in the world, or you can fall, not just on your face, but clear to the bottom of the deepest well you can imagine!”

  She turned to Steve again. “Steve, are you certain you want to do this? This will be second overtime, last play of the game—and you have to call the winning or the losing play. Okay with you?”

  “Yes! I want to do this.” Steve stared at Paeton.

  Those damned eyes! Paeton forced herself to stay unmoved. Why must she always be on the brink of something? Would there ever again be a time when life was easy?

  Paeton felt Royale’s eyes on her again. She knew it was her turn to commit. “Paeton. You are your own heroine. Your choice will bring complete disaster or total success. Do you want this final chapter written?”

  Paeton sat up straighter. “Absolutely.” Her voice came out strong and clear.

  Royale flashed her world-famous smile and pushed her chair back. “Great! Congratulations, Paeton and Steve. We have one week until the show. I believe in you. I believe you are about to show the world you are the best, not only as parents but in every respect.”

  Fred was all smiles. “Thank you, Royale.” He whispered in Paeton’s ear. “She’s on our side, kid. We’ll be back in the ballgame soon.”

  “No sports analogies, okay, Fred?”

  “Uh, sorry.”

  Royale closed the meeting. “That’s it, folks! Thank you for coming. We have a week for publicity, then it’s show time!” Royale rose and schmoozed around the room, shaking everyone’s hand.

  Paeton didn’t stand up immediately. The situation was still difficult to comprehend. Was she really doing a reality TV show to prove she knew her own child? Apparently she was. Did she deserve this possible humiliation for giving in to that one magic moment, when nothing else mattered? Apparently she did. And now Fate, in the form of Steedly Black, was giving her a chance to make amends for that one lapse into sublimity.

  As she left the meeting, only half listening to Fred’s voice, she pondered the big question: If she could turn back the clock and never have bumped into Steve Kaselman, would she want to? Then, of course, there was the bigger question: Where Steve Kaselman was concerned, did she ever really have any choice?

  Chapter 15

  Paeton sat in the waiting room with Rosa, Madison, and Kelsey. Fred was out of town but would be watching the show from Atlanta. In a few minutes she would be served up to the “wolf pack” on Royale’s show. Steve and Ryan hadn’t arrived yet. Steedly Black was in a separate room at Paeton’s request.

  Paeton was contending with all the symptoms of stage fright—nervous stomach, sweaty palms, cotton mouth. The only times she had been on live national television were for book interviews. Those interviews were controlled, each a one-on-one exchange with someone who liked her and appreciated her writing talent.

  Appearing on The RoyaleShow was different: Paeton would be facing a new audience—one that was out to get her. This audience was the wolf pack. Its members got their strength from being part of a group. They were judgmental, feeding on people’s misery and mistakes. Reveling in people’s tears and anguish. She had occasionally seen such TV audiences while riding an exercise bike at her athletic club. The wolves were self-righteous. They were vindictive. They were vicious. And today they would be hungrily encircling Paeton, waiting to see if she could pass muster as a mother. And if she couldn’t—!

  Royale had outlined the basics of the show: The babies would be in the famous Zoo Kingdom travelseats with matching blankets, dressed exactly as they had been that life-changing day at JFK. Steve and Paeton would carry the babies onstage and put each on a table on either side of the stage. Then they would take seats in the center of the stage. Black would join them after they were seated. After some introductory remarks from Royale, Steve, Paeton, and Black would be ushered offstage. During their absence, an assistant would switch or not switch the infan
ts. The three would return to the stage and be directed to one of the babies. They would write on a card the child’s name, or in Black’s case, the gender, keeping the answer hidden from the others. Then the true identity of the baby in question would be revealed to the audience, and the fate of each of the three would be sealed—hero or bum. Royale had mentioned she had a few other “fun” secrets up her sleeve, but she wanted unprepared responses from her guests.

  “Are you all right, Paeton?” God bless Rosa! She always seemed to be aware of Paeton’s mood. “Can I get you some water?”

  Paeton nodded.

  Rosa poured from an iced carafe and handed the glass to her.

  As the liquid reached her lips, Paeton realized how dry her mouth was. “Thank you, Rosa. Yes, I’m fine.”

  In truth, nothing was fine. She was having no luck calming her stage fright. Fred wasn’t there. Steve wasn’t there. She felt she had made no progress in resolving any of the many questions that had befallen her since that fateful day at JFK International.

  Nevertheless, through her anxiety, she was convinced that she could not mistake Ryan for Kelsey during the show even in the dizzying atmosphere of blinding lights, hovering audience, and huge stakes.

  But the possibility of making a mistake made her skin crawl. Could the lights blur her vision? Could fear cloud her instincts? Cause some weird doubt that would make her choose the opposite of what she knew was fact? What if she did choose incorrectly? She shuddered at the thought. Her temples throbbed unmercifully.

  And what about Steve? She had to laugh ironically to herself. As always, her thoughts involuntarily turned to him. Wherever he was right now, was he fighting the same fears? She knew she couldn’t ask him. That would reveal her doubts to him. But the possibility that he might be having similar fears made her feel connected to him. She liked that connected feeling. She could no longer deny a lifelong natural connection to Steve Kaselman. No matter the consequences.

  Her feelings could never be erased from her heart. Their connection was one of those inexplicable mysteries. Because notwithstanding all the doubt and frustration their relationship had engendered, she did believe she loved Steve. And she believed he loved her.

  They had made love that one magical time. That Camelot. Only to have her heart run through the next morning with the sword of Steve’s apparent accusation.

  Now Paeton longed for another lovemaking that would bring on another lovemaking and another and another—but—

  But wasn’t it hopeless? Wouldn’t Black always be a vengeful reporter who would never give them peace? Wouldn’t Steve always be another unreliable jock who would never give in to marriage? And wouldn’t the “Paeton + Steve” graffiti heart at JFK eventually be painted over by a coat of time? But Paeton knew there was no coat of any kind that could ever entirely hide it from her soul. If that was true, there was always hope—wasn’t there?

  Paeton looked at the door. Where was Steve? He said his meeting would end in plenty of time to make the show. Or if he had to, he would simply walk out. He should have been here by now!

  But he wasn’t here. Was he going to be a no-show? Was he going to let her down as the jocks had in her past? Was she going to be connected to him forever but be denied the relationship of her dreams?

  But what else should she expect? She knew she had to learn to face the reality of her and Steve. And right now it appeared she would she have to face the reality of this voracious audience without him.

  Paeton picked up the phone in the waiting room.

  “Yes, Ms. McPhilomy?”

  “Has Steve Kaselman arrived yet?” Paeton hated the slight tremor in her voice.

  “Not yet, Ms. McPhilomy. We’ll send him down as soon as he gets here.”

  “Thank you.” Paeton replaced the phone.

  The show was five minutes away from going on-air. Why did Steve always make everything last-minute? Because he was an egotistical jock, that’s why.

  She looked around the waiting room. It was nothing special. The walls were painted aspen white, kind of a champagne color. The furniture was from the fifties—dark mahogany with large flowered patterns on the upholstery. There was a TV monitor hung in one corner as in a hospital room. A table held glasses, water, ice, and a few soft drinks. Dainty, crustless sandwiches were piled high on Royale Smith china platters. Fancy, chocolate fringed cookies beckoned from an accompanying platter.

  “Mommy, do I get to be on TV?” Madison asked, looking up from her video game.

  “No, honey. You stay here with Rosa. This time only Kelsey and me. You know I have to choose her when she and Ryan are onstage together, right?”

  “Yes. I don’t think that’s very hard. I could do it.”

  Paeton and Rosa laughed quietly. They exchanged knowing looks. Ah, the beauty of children. Paeton bent over and kissed Madison. “I love you, Maddy.”

  “I love you too, Mommy. May I have another cookie? When’s Steve coming?” She got up and walked toward the table holding the food.

  “Okay. One more. Rosa will help you. I don’t know, honey.”

  The door opened abruptly and Greta entered carrying Ryan. Paeton jumped to her feet. “Where’s Steve?”

  “Hi, Paeton. I’m glad we finally meet in person after all our phone calls. Steve sent me on ahead with Ryan so he could run if he had to. His meeting is taking longer than expected. But he said not to worry, that he’d be here in time to be next to you when you two had to choose a baby.”

  Paeton’s heart wrenched painfully. She recognized the familiar pattern unfolding. Twice before her heart had been broken by jocks who sent words and little else. Not that her heart would be broken. It was too late for that. But somewhere in the deepest regions of her soul, she wanted Steve to be different. She didn’t want him to be, as he would put it, “strike three and you’re out!”

  After an awkward moment, Paeton spoke. “I apologize for not introducing myself that miserable day I found out Steve had bought my house. I appreciate how helpful you’ve been on the phone.”

  Greta flushed. “Yes, that was a memorable day.” She reached out and took one of Paeton’s hands. “Steve is still feeling guilty about that.”

  Paeton tried to respond politely, but her thoughts were entirely focused on the probability that Steve was not going to be here for the moment of truth.

  Then she remembered she hadn’t introduced Rosa. “Oh, I’m sorry. Greta, this is Rosa, my nanny. Rosa, this is Greta.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Greta.”

  “Likewise, Rosa.”

  Paeton returned to the situation at hand. “It’s nearly air-time. He should be here by now.” This time Paeton took Greta’s hand. “He’ll be here, right? He won’t be a no-show?”

  She felt Greta’s hand tighten on hers. “You can count on Steve, Paeton. He would never let you down.”

  Those were exactly the wrong words for Paeton.

  Ring!

  Paeton grabbed for the studio phone on the table next to her as fear and hope wrestled within her.

  “Hey, Paeton! Is Greta there yet?”

  “Steve! Where the hell are you? You said you’d be here. I don’t want to do this alone. It isn’t fair. You should be on the chopping block too. I mean it!”

  Steve was on his cell phone. “That’s why I called. Paeton, I won’t be there—”

  The phone went dead and so did her hopes. “Steve! No!” All she thought she had done to prepare for being let down by Steve had been in vain. She had been a victim of this terrible aloneness twice before—the feeling of being in a sealed room that was slowly being drained of oxygen. Only this time, she felt threatened with complete asphyxiation. In a cruel authentication, she was having trouble getting her breath. I won’t be there!

  Why had she ever come back? The purple magic-marker heart had tricked her. She had returned to L.A. because deep in her soul, she secretly believed that “Paeton + Steve” was the truth. Now the truth she faced was that she was being sucked into a whorl o
f destruction by the same kind of man Destiny had always given her: a jock who would ultimately leave her—alone!

  For the first time in Paeton’s life, she had met something stronger than she was. Something, even with all her strength and resolve, she couldn’t overcome.

  She sank back in her chair, all feeling ebbing from her body, and gave up. This was truly the end!

  “Paeton? What’s wrong?” Greta was leaning over her.

  Paeton couldn’t speak. Nothing mattered anymore.

  “What’s the matter, Mommy? Are you sick? Where’s Steve? Is he coming?”

  Everything was out of focus, as if her eyes were looking through a camera that was zooming in and out, in and out.

  Knock, knock.

  The door opened. “You’re on now, Ms. McPhilomy.”

  No feeling had returned to Paeton’s legs. She couldn’t move.

  “Ms. McPhilomy? We need you onstage now, please.” A stagehand in torn jeans and scraggly beard was coming toward her.

  Greta stood up, taking hold of Paeton’s left hand. “Come on, Paeton. It’s okay. Steve will be here any second.”

  Rosa stood as well, grasping Paeton’s other hand.

  Paeton left her body. She looked down on herself, watching her body move but not understanding how she was doing it. She saw her mouth open to utter words. “No. He won’t. He said—‘I won’t be there!’”

  Greta stammered. “But that’s not possible. He told me a few minutes ago that he would be here no matter what.”

  Paeton returned to her body, submitting to the inevitable. “Well, ‘no matter what’ came and went, and he won’t be here. I figured as much! I have to do this alone—again!”

  Greta screwed her face up. “What do you mean ‘again’?”

  The stagehand kept checking his watch. “Excuse me, ladies, but we have a show to do. I’m going to be in a world of hurt if I don’t get Ms. McPhilomy onstage right now.”

  Greta raised her hand to silence the man. “We can do this, Paeton. Let’s get you onstage. The bum will burst in here in time. Trust me.”