The Guy on the Left (The Underdogs Book 2)

by Kate Stewart

  Thank Christ.

  Dante gets up and turns to flush the toilet, and I jerk back in horror when I see the literal shit trailing from his ass down his legs.

  “Don’t move!” Gagging uncontrollably, I lift my T-shirt to cover my mouth and open the shower curtain before turning on the faucet.

  “What’s wrong?” Dante asks as he turns my way.

  “Don’t move, buddy. This is going to take some skill.”

  I’m still gagging, my T-shirt giving little aid due to the visual. It’s everywhere. I move him onto the rug, carefully stripping everything around the literal shit sandwich he’s made of himself. When his clothes are finally off, I lift him up by the arms and dispose of him in the shower, praying to God the water takes care of most of the debris.

  “I didn’t wipe good?”

  Dante looks up at me with innocent eyes, and I can’t help the tug in my chest as his lower lip quivers, but I’m gagging too much to console him.

  “We’ll,” gag, gag, gag, dry heave, “fix it.”

  I thank Christ Theo is high maintenance with his need for a removable shower head. I use it to get most of the crap off him before covering him in body wash. Shrouded from head to toe in suds, I can still see the shittastic mess running down his legs.

  “Okay, okay, I’ve been up against much bigger mountains. I scored a seventy-six-yard touchdown last week after hurdling a defensive end and a safety. I’ve got this.”

  Dante giggles, wiggling his butt as my gagging evokes another dry heave.

  “Don’t move means don’t move!”

  He frowns. “You’re bossy.”

  “Sorry,” I gag again. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay. You’ve got this,” he encourages, covered from head to toe in Old Spice body wash and shit. He looks over to me with a trust very few do, and inwardly, I melt at his eagerness to please me.

  “Thanks,” I say as I pull my sponge from the rack and begin to scrub him down. After a few minutes, I finally have him shit free, and get him out of the shower before I start toweling him off.

  Dante stands still, lifting his arms up and down to assist me, wiggling when my fingers dig into his armpits. “Ticklish, huh?”

  We give twin-like smiles to each other in the mirror. His laughter fades as he takes notice of our similarities. “Heyyy! You look like me!” His statement strikes me right in the chest.

  “I was here first, so maybe you look like me.”

  “People could think you’re my daddy.”

  My face is the picture of control when I ask him the question I already know the answer to. “What do you know about your daddy?”

  “I don’t know my daddy.”

  “You don’t know anything?”

  “Nope. Are we going to play Xbox again?” He’s already over the conversation, while inside, I’m fuming. He begins dressing as I pull out my phone and shoot off a text.

  Troy: We need to talk.

  Clarissa: Kind of in the middle of something.

  Troy: I’m aware, but we need to talk. Soon.

  Clarissa: Is Dante okay?

  Troy: Fine. He has diarrhea, but I don’t think he has much left in him.

  Clarissa: Is this what we need to talk about?

  Troy: Of course not. You think I would interrupt your date to talk about diarrhea?

  Clarissa: Aren’t you?

  Troy: Jesus, no. Can you cut me a break? I’m doing you a favor.

  Instantly, I know that was the wrong text to send. I’m his father. Watching him is not a favor. I just cut my own nose off to spite my face.

  Troy: I didn’t mean that. I’m happy about this. Spending time with him.

  Troy: Clarissa?

  Troy: Please don’t go postal. I didn’t mean that.

  Clarissa: I’m on my way.

  “Shi…crap,” I grunt as I dial her number, and she doesn’t answer.

  “What’s wrong?” Dante asks.

  Troy: Please don’t do this. I want my time with him.

  Clarissa: Fine. I’ll be back at 8:30.

  I just lost any leverage I had in feeling angry. I’ll have to choose another day to plead my case. He should know of me. What I did was wrong, but what she’s doing right now isn’t right, either.

  Clarissa retrieves him an hour later, and as I carry a sleeping Dante home, I notice her lips are swollen from kissing, there’s a bounce in her step and a light in her eyes. It’s then I know she’s hopeful. Hopeful that tonight was the start of something. A something she could never picture with me. For years I’ve watched her and feel in a way I know her, but in truth, I don’t. I’ve had a lot of time to conjure her up in my imagination, but that’s the extent of it. She could never look at me the way she did that night, and I’ve long since moved on from my selfish fantasies.

  I lay him down in his bed and pull his covers up before lingering at his bedroom door. It’s another parent thing I haven’t had a chance to enjoy, and I take my time, watching him settle into position. I push down the resentment, because keeping the peace is more important for now, for him. Everything I do and will do from this moment forward will be for him.

  “How did it go?” Clarissa asks on a whisper.

  “He had an upset stomach most of the night, but pretty well.” I shut his door.

  “Keep it cracked.”

  I follow her instructions and turn to look at her. “So, I’m guessing the date went well.”

  Her crystalline blue eyes narrow. “None of your business.”

  I try and disguise the tick of my jaw. “You’re right. Goodnight.”

  She sighs as if drawing her patience. “Okay, I’m sorry. I’m not being fair. Thank you, sincerely, for the clothes and shoes.”

  “Don’t thank me. It’s part of my job.”

  She nods. “Right. Well, it was a relief for me, so can I thank you for that?”

  I grin. “Sure. And the date? Or are we not sharing yet?”

  “It went very well. For the first time in a long time, I agreed to another.”

  I tap my temple. “Yeah, it’s been a while, hasn’t it? What was the last guy’s name? He was a total douche.”

  She frowns. “Paul was not a douche. We just didn’t have a lot in common. And it’s weird you know these things.”

  “You refused to let me in. But you let me watch.”

  Her cheeks redden, and she turns and walks down the hall leading toward the front door. I can’t help but study her wavy crimson hair and skin—though sun-kissed—that’s pale in comparison. She’s incredibly beautiful and although only a foot away, entirely out of reach. “I felt safer.”

  I’m distracted, but I catch her whisper.

  “What?”

  She turns to me when she reaches the door and lets out a breath. “I felt safer knowing you were out there. He was so small then, and the lock was flimsy.”

  “Really?” It’s an olive branch, and I eagerly take it.

  “Yeah. When I saw your truck in the parking lot, I was able to sleep better.”

  She looks at me, curious. “You were always reading. Had your cabin light on. What were you reading?”

  “Studying, mostly.”

  “Ah, right.” Her expression changes with my confession, and I feel some of the tension return. We reach the front door, and she gives me a look that tells me she’s about to level with me. “Look, for Dante’s sake, I really want to try this, at least for civility, but it’s going to take me a little time to get used to it.”

  “I get that.”

  “And I can’t promise friendship.”

  Slowly, I nod. “All right.”

  “So, we probably need to establish more ground rules.”

  “My schedule is rough. But give me a heads up, and I’ll move shit around. Football is going to take up my weekends, especially on away games, and I work every available shift around that, but I’ll do everything I can to be available for you both. I mean that.”

  She bites her lip thoughtfully, and I imagine a
nother man kissing it. It doesn’t sit well with me, and I know then I have to stop fixating on a lost cause. “Okay. If things work out, I’m probably going to want to go on more dates.”

  “Will you bring him around Dante?”

  “I have never introduced any man to my son. You know that.”

  “Our son. And I just don’t want to get him confused. I was just introduced, and my own title isn’t clear yet.”

  She lifts her hands. “Too fast, Jenner. Just too fast. I assure you I won’t interrupt what’s just started, if you promise me you’ll keep things the way they are for now.”

  “Deal.”

  “Goodnight.” She nods toward my house.

  “So, what does this new guy do?”

  “He owns a real estate company. The one who rents our houses.”

  “Nice. Good guy?”

  She drops her gaze. “I’m tired.”

  “Me too. So, is he?”

  “He was nice in school. He seems to be now. We’ll see. People change.”

  “You’re right. They do.” I lean in using her words to my advantage. Eyes locked, I get a whiff of her perfume. “They absolutely do.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Goodnight.”

  When the door shuts, I don’t have to look back to know she’s watching me. But I don’t acknowledge it or even entertain any of the possible reasons why. I can’t afford to make any more mistakes.

  Lainey’s King Ranch Chicken

  Finance Analyst, Omaha

  Makes 8 servings

  1 hour

  3 lb. Chicken – Boiled & Deboned – See Note

  12 Corn Tortillas – torn into chip size pieces

  1 Onion – Chopped

  1 Red Bell Pepper – Chopped

  1/2 Stick Butter

  1 Can Rotel Diced Tomatoes & Green Chile Peppers

  2 Cans Cream of Mushroom Soup

  2 Cans Cream of Chicken Soup

  4 Cups Shredded, Cheddar Cheese (Mexican Blend cheese is also good.)

  Sauté onions and pepper in butter in a large sauce pan until tender. Stir in tomatoes, soups, 1/2 of the cheese, and chicken.

  Layer 1/3 of the tortilla pieces in a lightly greased 9 X 13 casserole dish. Top with 1/3 of chicken mixture and a layer of cheese. Repeat layers 2 times.

  Bake at 325 degrees for 40 minutes.

  Note: To save time, a rotisserie chicken will work just as well. Also, boiling boneless chicken breasts or thighs (or a mixture) in chicken broth & water will be quicker than boiling a whole chicken.

  Clarissa

  Parker lets Dante out of the booth, loading him with coins for the video games as I recite the rules.

  “Stay where I can see you. No talking to adult strangers.”

  “Got it,” Dante promises, eyes wide at the number of coins she’s filling his little hands with. “Ahhh yeah!”

  “You can do better than that,” I scold.

  “Yes, ma’am. Thank you, Auntie Parker!”

  She hugs him tightly to her, and he struggles in her arms while she insists on an embarrassing hug that he would have gladly given her a year ago.

  “Are you really almost six?”

  “Yep,” he says, wrestling her for his freedom. She kisses the crown of his head before she lets him go and joins me on the opposite side of the booth.

  “Jesus. This is not a fat-friendly booth.”

  The remark pains me. Parker has always been on the heavier side, but I’ve never seen her the way she sees herself. She’s truly beautiful, and her personality is so endearing, it’s all I ever pay attention to. That is until she comments negatively about herself. Parker and I have been friends since our first year at Texas Grand. She’s been the one constant in my life since my father died when we were sophomores, leaving me orphaned. My mother died when I was Dante’s age. The irony is that my father had been twenty-five years older than her and was the one to die from natural causes.

  “Would you stop with that? I hate it when you knock yourself.” I tell her as she grimaces from my reprimand. She nods, ogling the pizza.

  “Have another piece if you want it. You’ve only had one.”

  She forks a bite of salad and shoves it into her mouth. “I’ll stick to this,” she says, chewing around the bite, “mmm delicious.” It’s sarcasm at its finest, and I can’t help but laugh at her candor.

  “You’re beautiful,” I remind her. “If you want the pizza, eat the pizza.”

  “Nope.” She lifts a straw full of soda and lets it go covering the rest of the pie in Coke. “Temptation destroyed. Problem solved.”

  “What if I wanted to eat that later?”

  “You’ll thank me.”

  “Maybe, but please stop talking about yourself that way.”

  “Fine, fine, okay, I’ve been gone for an eternity. Give me some dirt.”

  For the first time in what feels like a century, I have something to report.

  “I have a new neighbor.”

  “Yeah?”

  “It’s Troy. He moved in next door.”

  She pauses with the straw halfway to her mouth. “What? When?”

  “Last month.”

  “And you’re just now telling me?!”

  “You’ve been busy. I’ve been busy and in denial.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I’m letting him be the neighbor for now. What choice do I have?”

  “I’m going over there.”

  “Reason number three I didn’t tell you.”

  She shifts in her seat. “I give zero shits.”

  “Parker, listen to me. Dante still doesn’t know. And for now, we’re going to keep it that way. Don’t come in like a bull in a china shop. We’re treading carefully here.”

  She narrows her eyes. “I’m the co-parent.”

  It’s the truth. She is. Guilt nags at me as I think of my omission in our conversations in the last few weeks. “I’m sorry. You’re right, but you were in London, and I didn’t want you going postal a continent away.”

  Parker was on the fast track to rich and successful the minute we graduated. She stays with us between long stints overseas. When I first had Dante, she’d been my savior and was able to afford everything I couldn’t, which saved our asses on multiple occasions. I don’t know what I would have done without her. She’s everything wrapped in one, a best friend, a co-parent, and the only family we have. Dante and I wouldn’t have survived without her.

  “So, is he…is he acting like a Dad?”

  “He’s allowed to be a friend, for now. We’re testing the waters to see how this goes.”

  “Is he still hot?”

  “Jesus. He’s so beautiful.” I follow Parker’s gaze to see Dante playing Skee-Ball. “And I hate him.”

  “Yeah, me too. But hate can be amazing fuel in the bedroom.”

  My lips lift into a genuine smile. “I’m covered there too.”

  She slaps her palm on the table, her inky dark hair spilling over her shoulder as her brown eyes meet mine. “You’ve been holding out all over.”

  “This is a new development.” I waggle my brows. “Brett Tompkins. We had a drink last week. And there was kissing.”

  “WHAT!? Oh my God, lady! Is he still hot?”

  “Hotter.”

  “Than Troy?”

  “We’re not comparing the two.”

  “Well runner-up isn’t bad, and he’s loaded too. You know that, right?”

  “Dinner is all he gets to pay for. And I like him.”

  Parker frowns. “You were crazy for him in college, that’s not the case now?”

  “I mean, it’s been years since then. I’m getting to know him again. We’ll see. And Troy watched Dante.”

  She sits back in her seat. “Let me get this straight. You’ve got a hot as all hell baby daddy as a baby-sitter and a hot as shit real estate mogul after your ass. Woman, you should be walking on a cloud!”

  “I am.”

  “Gah. Finally. The Lord answered one of my prayer
s.”

  “Yeah, well, don’t get too excited. You know my dating history.”

  “I would almost feel sorry for you, but I don’t. Please have sex with them both and make this an epic saga so I can live vicariously through you.”

  “Absolutely not,” I snap. “I’m never getting intimate with Troy again. Ever. Are you crazy?”

  “Clarissa, he was a kid. He saw your beautiful ass and wanted it. Most guys would lie for a crack at you. You are hot, babe. He didn’t know it would backfire like that. And you said a million times that you both used each other that night.”

  “But it did backfire. And if he hadn’t lied—”

  “You wouldn’t have Dante.”

  “I know.” I swallow the thought. “God, where would I be?”

  “I know this. That boy makes you happy. He does. Even if his conception was an accident.”

  “So, you’re on Troy’s side?”

  “No sides. Not anymore. It’s time you both grew up and did what’s best for your kid. Let old hurts go. Etcetera, etcetera.”

  “I am. I think I am. I’m trying, for Dante.”

  “Good.” She eyes me, pushing a lock of her long dark hair off her shoulders. “This is about to get fun.”

  “Stop. Nothing is going to happen with Troy. He’s still using his penis as a Fun Dip. I’ve watched him walk out two women since he’s moved in. And Brett, well, he’s a damned good kisser, and you know a good kiss is everything for me.”

  “Don’t you dare hold back again, I don’t give a shit if I’m in China, which I will be in November.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep,” she says with a sigh. “And I’m not eating shit there but rice and noodles. They eat dogs, and I’m not going to gamble on mystery meat. No, thanks.” She scrunches her nose. “It will be the best diet I’ve ever been on.”

  “Another diet?”

  “Clarissa, I haven’t seen my vagina in five years.” A woman walking by our booth gapes at us, grabbing her son and turning him in the opposite direction.

  “Sorry,” Parker sputters out apologetically as laughter bursts from me. I shake my head as Parker’s brown eyes come back to mine. “Oops.”