“Where else are you gonna sleep? I already told you we’re not sleeping together.”
“We have before.” She licks her fingers, and I’m momentarily distracted. But then I remember she’s Wilder’s sister and annoying as fuck, and I’m okay again.
I go to the pizza, not feeling hungry right now, thinking of Shasta’s impending appearance. “And I vowed to the universe to never do it again.”
Simone chews, thinking of a response probably. “Why? Did I turn you on too much? I tend to do that, and I didn’t even sleep naked like I usually do.” She smirks, and I roll my eyes.
“Yeah. You were so hot lying there that I jacked off, but your snoring must’ve drowned out my moans.” If she only knew I did that exact thing to Hadley.
“I don’t snore!” That’s the point she argues?
“Dream on, Steven Tyler.” Standing at the table, I reach for a piece of pizza. I’m going to need some kind of sustenance to get through Shasta, Birdy, and Simone.
As I take a bite, a knock interrupts me. Simone whispers, “It must be Shasta?” I hope it’s Death.
Going to the door, my stomach knots. How does Shasta feel confident enough to leave a small child with me? I’m inept beyond even my own delusions. I’m unconvinced this kid will get any kind of benefit hanging out with me. I’m more likely to corrupt her and steer her to a life of crime. It’ll start with bad grades. Then she’ll steal, set fires, join a gang, and do hard time because of me.
Opening the door, Shasta stands on the balcony, holding the car seat. “Look who’s here,” she says, grinning, announcing herself like I’m supposed to be excited about it.
I pull open the door wider, and she enters, throwing bags into my arms. I kick the door closed behind her and follow Shasta as she sets down the car seat. I’m hesitant, peeking inside to see Birdy. When she sees me, she stares at me as if she’s either mystified or disgusted, which either way still makes me grin without trying.
Shasta’s smile drops, seeing my sprawling estate. “I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to find your place. Maybe I should’ve kept looking.”
“I’m sorry, Zsa Zsa, for not putting out the good china and real silver. It’s the maid’s day off.”
She removes the enormous pink bag from her shoulder, slinging it into my hands. “You’ll need that.”
“What’s in it?”
“Clothes and diapers.”
Behind me, Simone emerges from the kitchen. “Hey, Shasta. What about formula? I didn’t know what kind to pick up.” Shit. That’s what I forgot to ask her again.
Shasta’s eyes are lasers, zeroing in on Simone as her prey. “I brought plenty,” she basically growls. Confused, I look from Shasta to Simone, who stiffly smiles—another reminder of her dildo brother, especially with the shorter hair. That sucks to hell.
Moving closer to me while still eyeballing Simone, who moves back toward the kitchen, Shasta hisses, “What’s she doing here?”
“She’s helping me with Birdy.”
“I don’t want her watching our daughter.”
“I’ll be watching her. And I thought it was someone else who you had a problem with.” Unsure of how much Simone can hear us, I avoid saying Hadley’s name to not pique her suspicions.
“Her too.”
“Why?”
“You haven’t heard the stories she told at practices.”
“What about them?”
Shasta looks past me, giving that general direction the evil eye. “She’s not a good role model for our daughter.”
“And you are?”
Now it’s my turn for the evil eye. “I don’t sleep around like she does, Roddy. She shouldn’t be here. It’s sending the wrong message to Birdy.” Right. But I couldn’t say goodbye to her because babies don’t understand.
“That another woman cares about her? The horror.”
Shasta eagerly nods, jangling her large hoop earrings. “That’s what she is. A whore.”
“I said horror. And you have about as much room to talk as a woman who sleeps with the boss but got pregnant by another coworker, telling him she also recorded the whole thing. What would you call someone like that? Whore seems generous. Right?”
“I don’t want her here.”
“Did you actually record it?”
“Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?” No. It makes me murderous.
Simone interrupts our whisper-fighting to say, “You know, I can leave.”
Shasta nods with a patronizing grin. “Yes, go.”
“She stays.”
Shasta glares at me while I cross my arms, waiting out her tantrum. She finally says, “I’ll be back Friday. If anything happens to her, I blame you, and I’ll come at you with everything.”
“Cool.”
“Don’t mess this up.”
“I won’t,” I reply with a fuckload of confidence I don’t have. What the hell am I doing, help or not?
Shasta’s barely out the door before I close it, making sure to lock the damn thing, preventing a second coming. I’d rather one of the drug dealers in the complex waltz in here. I could use a hit of anything.
I go over to Simone, who’s removing Birdy from the car seat. When she stands, she avoids eye contact, which isn’t Garrison by far. For the short time I’ve known her, Simone has been sass, brash, tits, and ass. Well, the tits and ass are mostly what I’ve noticed about her besides that damn mouth of hers.
I watch her cradling Birdy with a smile for my daughter. It’s unreal how she agreed to help me. We’re barely friends, and even with the Tesco deal, she’s here wasting her time taking care of a newborn, whose mother just called her a whore. How unlike Wilder.
I ask, “Why’d you offer to leave? Why didn’t you tell Shasta to go to hell? It wasn’t like you to do either.”
Simone plays with Birdy’s hand, shrugging like she doesn’t care, but seeing her with Birdy for five seconds, I see she does. “I didn’t want to be in the way. She’s your daughter. If her mother doesn’t want me here, then how can I argue, really?”
“Because her father says you can stay.”
She glances at me, weirdly unsettled. “I wasn’t sure you’d want me to stay after what you heard about me.”
“Like anything she said matters.”
“I’m not... Maybe I...” She sighs, looking back to Birdy. “Your daughter’s beautiful.”
“She’s probably not mine then.” Simone’s eyes flick to mine as she smiles. Looking at her short blonde hair, I ask, “What do we do now? I forgot to ask if she had a bottle or needs changed.”
“I guess we just make our own schedule and rules.”
“Rebels, huh? I can live with that.”
“Nothing less,” Simone answers, taking squirming Birdy to the couch. “Could you bring her diaper bag? You can check to see if she needs to be changed.”
“Uh, what?”
“You’re going to have to dive in some time.”
“I was hoping to skip this part.”
“Not a chance.” I set down the diaper bag on the floor next to the couch, and Simone stands, keeping her hand on Birdy, her bright pink nail polish matching Birdy’s pink dress. “Sit.”
I do as I’m told because I don’t have a choice. Just like I’m a father, even if I didn’t sign up for this. Birdy squirms more, whining like she’s ready to blow. Simone lifts up the dress and slides her fingers into the front of her diaper, and I about quit.
Pulling out her hand, she announces, “She’s wet.”
“Shit.”
“You should be glad she didn’t do that.” Simone laughs, handing me a diaper.
I twirl it around, unable to make heads or ass out of it. “This? There’s nothing here.”
“And it’s not even a preemie diaper. You have to unfold it.” I do it, and as Garrison gathers other supplies, she nods to my hands. “Okay. Remove her dress bottom and the diaper.”
I sit back as Birdy kicks her feet in the air. “I think I’ll pass this ro
und.”
“Greg, you can do it. Take the dirty one and quickly replace it with the clean one in case she pees again.” Am I in the speed round already?
I pull the bottom off and pause. Simone says, “Take off her diaper.”
“Do I have to?”
“Yes. It’s not brain surgery for fuck’s sake.” I give up and remove her diaper. Simone says, “Quick. Lift her legs with one hand and slide the clean diaper underneath. Use a wipe to clean her. Put her back down, wrap her back up, and you’re done. Piece of cake.”
“Remind me not to eat any cake of yours.”
Simone sits at Birdy’s head and smirks. “My cake is too hot for you to handle.”
Concentrating on my task, I mumble, “Right.”
As I try to figure out how to close the diaper, Simone giggles. “She’ll be in kindergarten pretty soon.”
I growl in frustration. This is not how I thought I’d be a dad someday. A non-friend barking orders at me while I hate myself for the push and pull with Hadley on my own arbitrary terms. This isn’t how I wanted anything to turn out. Every mistake I’ve made has led me right to this moment, one I wish I could trade in. And incidentally, I’d trade with Wilder since he’s living the life I gave away.
Sitting back, I blow out a deep breath. Simone orders, “Now, go wash your hands and make her a bottle.”
“How do I do that?”
“You have to scoop formula into six ounces of water. We’ll start with that much. You even get to use your new bottle warmer. Isn’t that the coolest?”
“Gnarly.”
Simone picks up Birdy from the couch, snuggling her as she speaks in an irritating baby voice. Still, I wonder if Shasta does any of that.
Just as I finish reading the instructions on the can of formula and figuring out the bottle warmer crap, I hear Birdy’s screeches from the living room. Shit. Going faster, I take the bottle to Simone who nods at the couch, indicating for me to sit. Instead, I hand the bottle to her. “You do it this time. I need a shower.”
Simone’s gaze drifts over me as she takes the bottle, as if she wants to say something but doesn’t say it. Before I can ask, Garrison recommences talking to Birdy like a leprechaun on helium. I hope Birdy throws up in her face.
But I’m grateful Garrison is here.
In my room, I check my phone for messages, but nothing. Sighing, I make a quick change of my bedsheets before going for a shower. Mostly, I’m in there to think, which is different for me. But what isn’t different is how my thoughts still fall back to Hadley. They always do. I wish I could find someone else, but there’s nobody out there for me. It’s as if I’m damaged beyond repair, and I’ll forever be the freak on the corner with 15 cats who feeds pigeons at the park and yells at pesky kids. Fuck cats. They’re devil incarnates. My stepmother’s cat hates me with the fire of a million suns. The feeling is mutual.
On the way back to my room, I see Simone in the living room, holding Birdy in a sitting position while patting her back. Forgetting I’m only wearing a towel around my waist, I stand there watching. Simone looks up, seeing me, and she freezes. She gawks at me kind of like she did earlier outside The Grind when I shocked her. What’s her problem now?
I ask, “What?”
She quickly shakes her head and focuses her attention on Birdy again, seemingly caught up in what’s she’s doing. “Um, I was trying for a burp. I guess it’s not happening.”
“A burp attendant. This kid is high maintenance. Jesus.”
Garrison weakly laughs, standing. “She’s your baby, that’s for sure. Uh, are you done with the bathroom?” She glances at me and then back to Birdy, giving her a small kiss on her bald head.
“Yeah.”
“Good. It’s bath time.”
I laugh. “Slow down, lady. A bath? I’m not that kind of guy. But I am the kind that would watch you.”
Simone rolls her eyes, but giggles. “Jesus, Greg. I meant Birdy. You can give her a bath.”
My laughter disintegrates, and I’m sorry I didn’t escape through my bedroom window. “Uh, no way.”
“I’ll help, but you have to man this ship. You changed her diaper already. You’re good to go. Grow some balls and bathe your daughter.” Her eyes fall to my towel and then back up to my face.
“You thinking about my balls, Garrison?”
She mockingly smirks. “Yeah. I’m guessing you’re all talk because you lack them at the moment, Rod.”
“I might be lacking nerve but never balls.” Such a bullshitter, I even surprise myself.
“Show me then.”
“With the kid right there? Yeah. Tesco will arrest me.” I shrug, enjoying her attention maybe. “I suppose we both have something to prove under the hood. Your family doesn’t own the patent on challenges. I can be daring too.” On a scale of idiocy, I’m a heroic 10. With a grin, I tug at the towel, definitely bluffing. “I guess if you cover her eyes...”
Simone is speechless at first but then laughs loud, startling Birdy some. “Show me by bathing her!” Amid her laughing, she stares at me—all over—seemingly calling me out. Christ. I hate when my teasing backfires.
“I’m not scared,” I tease, not ever knowing when to stop once I get going. I didn’t think I’d be swinging my dick to a non-friend with my daughter in the same room. Holy shit. I do need to be arrested, just for stupidity alone.
When I pull at the towel slightly harder, horrifying not only myself but Simone since she spins away from me, she yelps, “Nope! Nope! Just get dressed, Greg!” Thank God. Trying to shock Simone is already exhausting.
I laugh at her sudden awkwardness as I walk backward to my room. “Such a goddamn tease, Garrison.”
She gasps, laughing while bouncing Birdy with her movements. “Me?”
From my room, I drop the towel, yelling, “Yep!” I laugh, feeling slightly better than earlier. But I know it’s only temporary.
I change, and soon as I leave my room, Simone puts Birdy into my arms without any warning, saying, “I’ll get her bath ready. You can take off her clothes.”
“Whoa. I’ll sit this one out.”
Simone grabs the pink tub from the kitchen and on her way to the bathroom sings, “Don’t be a pansy!” Damn it.
I hold Birdy like we’re walking a fucking tightrope in high winds. Simone’s right about my ineptitude, but she’s spinning tires if she thinks I’ll ever be an expert at this.
“Okay, Tweety,” I say balancing her on my arm as I walk to the couch. “It’s time to strip. But I’d better never catch you on a pole, young lady.” I set her down, and she instantly starts kicking her legs and swinging her arms at me. “I suppose that’d be awkward for you seeing your dad in a strip club. Am I right? We wouldn’t want me to cause a scene, storming the stage to cover you up. I guarantee you it wouldn’t be a pretty sight.” While I ramble, I wrestle with the dress and her punches, managing to remove her clothes, leaving the diaper. I’m not brave enough to carry her that far, ass out.
“You ready?” Simone yells from the bathroom.
“No,” I mutter, picking up Birdy and concentrating on not dropping her on her head, seeing the effects of Simone being dropped on hers.
I squeeze into the small bathroom, and Simone stands, wedging herself between the toilet and the bathtub to give me room. She sighs. “You didn’t take off her diaper.”
“I didn’t want her pissing all over me.”
“It’ll happen at least twice.” Garrison does the honors while I hold Birdy. That’s some black magic, being able to wrangle it off her like this. “Go ahead and put her in the sling inside her tub.”
My panic is swift and stealth. “In that? It’s a tiny runway! I’m a 747! I can’t make that landing!”
Simone throws back her head. “Oh, my God. The Diva Express has arrived. Just gently put her in there.”
“There’s no damn way!”
“Stop freaking out already.” Simone nods to the tub as Birdy fusses, which stresses me the fuck out
even more. “I’m not doing it for you.”
“You’re a really good teacher,” I complain.
“You’re a lousy student.” Simone crosses her arms, not budging. Is she really making me do this by myself? Nice non-friend.
“I’ll drop her.”
“You won’t. Now get her in there before you’re hosed.”
“Shit.” Slowly, I squat, trying not to lose my balance. I then kneel. I never thought this would be such an ordeal to accomplish. When I place her in the hammock, Birdy starts crying. I’m at that point too.
Simone puts the toilet lid down to sit and then looks over my shoulder. “Good job.”
“She’s crying.”
“She’s a baby.”
“How do I make it stop?”
“Dribble some water over her. Talk to her. She may calm down.” Simone hands me a washcloth for Hobbits and wetting it, I dribble water on Birdy’s stomach, which stops the crying. Now she stares at me. Birdy either gawks or cries. There’s no in between with this kid.
“Now, put some soap on there and wash her. Just watch getting soap in her eyes and mouth.”
“That’s easier said than done.”
“It’s easy if you take it slow.”
“Do you tell all the guys that?” I laugh, and when I look over at Simone, she doesn’t laugh or call me a name.
Instead, she quietly asks, “Are you going to slut-shame me like Shasta?”
“I... No. I didn’t know you heard her.”
“Yeah. I guess she’s the good girl.”
“That’s hysterical. Shasta’s into kink, bondage, and threesomes. She’s fucking Brandon.”
Simone cringes and realizing I just sorted myself into one of Shasta’s fetishes, I turn back to Birdy. “I don’t pay attention much to what Shasta says. You shouldn’t either.”
“I don’t care what she thinks about me.” That’s a lie because she’s clearly bothered by me even joking with her.
I drag the washcloth over Birdy, glazing over her girly bits. When I’m finished washing her, I sit back, knocking into Simone’s legs. “What next?”
“Rinse her off, and you’re done. She needs to be dried off.”
I try picking Birdy up, but since she’s slippery, I set her back down. “I’ll drop her.”
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