Nigel could find a place for himself within the framework of the honor he’d been given. If Hazard ever needed anything, whether it was cash or a kidney, time or a bloke to talk to, Nigel planned to be there for him. He turned from the window and headed out of his room, prepared to meet Hazard Alley Paxton for the first time.
My son, Hazard.
When he reached the top of the stairs, Deidre stood at the bottom. She was tall for a woman and had Jeff’s dark hair and eyes. She’d thickened around the waist, and her breasts looked larger. In black jeans and white oxford shirt she looked like a long, strange penguin. She carried the baby between both hands in his car seat. As Nigel came downstairs, he saw the baby’s eyes were open, and he was looking around.
“What do you think?” Dee asked him. Behind her Jeff lugged in what looked like two suitcases strapped together and some sort of bassinet basket covered in kitsch fabric. Katje carried a diaper bag and another suitcase and some sort of wire-framed sling seat.
Nigel opened his arms and pulled Deidre in for a hug. “I think this place isn’t going to be big enough for all your baggage, woman. How was your trip?”
“Pretty easy, actually. Haz slept most of the way.”
Nigel peered into the bucket-shaped seat. Deidre had the little canopy up, and the baby was curled into a tight ball, still giving him the eye. “A remarkable child, then.”
“No, he did his share of crying on takeoff and landing. I just whipped out a boob and nursed him until the pressure in his ears equalized and—”
Nigel plugged his ears with his fingers. “Oh la la la la la. I mustn’t hear this; I will not listen.”
Dee gave him a playful shove and handed over the baby. Nigel took the handle with both hands. She said, “Everyone was an annoying baby child once.”
“Not me. I was perfectly angelic.”
Jeff set down the last bag, a shopping bag of baby clothes with the price tags still attached. “Because you never wanted to be the center of attention, isn’t that right?”
Nigel grinned. “Exactly. Quiet as a mouse, I was. And biddable.”
“You’re probably misremembering that. You weren’t biddable. Your mother was trying to sell you to the highest bidder.” Deidre unstrapped Hazard, then scooped him out of his seat. “You can hold him if you like.”
“Yeah?” Nigel put the bucket down and got close enough that handing Hazard over was more like that party game where players hold oranges with their chins and pass them neck to neck without using their hands. When he held both hands out close together, Dee deposited Hazard so he lay with his butt in one of Nigel’s hands and head in the other. Automatically, instinctively, Nigel pulled the baby into his chest and breathed in his baby scent.
“He’s so small,” Nigel whispered. The feeling of holding Hazard close was like nothing he’d ever experienced. It did something to his entire body, relaxing it like magic. “It’s like…”
“Holding a boneless chicken?”
The baby’s eyes blinked slowly. “Can he see me?”
“Sure. As well as babies see, I guess. They’re wired to see everything at an arm’s length. They see their mother’s face but not much beyond that yet.”
Nigel gazed down at him, tilting his head so he could look from every angle without moving Hazard. The baby had tufts of dark hair and indeterminate blue eyes. Dark blue, actually, like flat midnight. From what Deidre told him, their color would change. They’d turn brown like Deidre’s, or if she had a recessive gene for blue eyes, maybe they’d be blue, like his. Maybe they’d be hazel, though, or green.
Fascinating.
Nigel let out a long sigh. “He’s brilliant.”
“Isn’t he?” Dee’s eyes misted. “Now that you’ve said that, I have to be all nice and shit.”
“Shush, Dee.” Katje put her arm around her wife. Dee’s head rested on her partner’s, which came to barely above her shoulder.
Nigel took in Katje’s features. Her skin was fair and her pale blonde, gently graying hair was sleek and clean, pulled back without fuss into a low ponytail. Her face without makeup was prettier than most women’s after airbrushing, and she seemed to exude an aura of good health and common sense. They looked tired, but happy.
“I’m not supposed to curse when he’s around,” Dee complained.
Nigel felt for her. “Whatever will you find to say?”
“I don’t know yet. I can’t help but feel he’ll suffer from my lack of authenticity. What if me being all soft and maternal now confuses him later?”
Katje snorted. “There’s plenty of time for him to realize what a monster you are, honey. All hope is not lost.”
Jeff nodded toward the hall. “I’ll put your things in the room down here. There’s an en suite bath.”
Dee leaned toward Nigel. “Okay if I leave him here with you while I get set up in there?”
“Of course. What should I do with him?”
“How about you just have a seat over there”—Dee pointed to the leather couch—“and I’ll be back in a bit.”
“I’m to just hold him?”
“If he bites,” Dee deadpanned, “Jeff will show you how to unlock his jaw to get him loose.”
Nigel eyed Hazard with some suspicion.
“She’s kidding you.” Katje took her wife’s arm and started her toward their bedroom. “Babies don’t bite; they have corrosive saliva that first numbs and then digests their prey so they don’t have to.”
“Very funny,” Nigel said to their retreating backs. Still, he modulated his voice to keep from upsetting Hazard, just in case. “Seriously, what shall I do with him?”
Deidre turned back. “If he needs a new diaper, change him. If he needs to eat, bring him to us.”
“I guess I might be able to handle that.”
“The trip knocked me out, honey. If you could watch him while we get a short nap, I’ll love you forever. I am becoming a firm advocate of the power nap.” She really did look tired. Even a little ill. She turned to Jeff when he came out of their bedroom. “Do you think you and Nigel could manage him for about an hour?”
“Sure.” Jeff set the bassinet down on the table. “Diaper bag?”
“Right there.” Katje pointed to a pile of bags and a laptop case on the floor inside the door.
“Go.” Jeff shooed them away. “Sleep. We’ll keep the baby until he needs to eat.”
“Thanks, guys.” Katje was already yawning as they disappeared through the door to the spare bedroom. “New baby. No sleep.”
Nigel remained frozen with the baby in his arms. “It’s okay if I move, right?”
Jeff rolled his eyes. “Just have a seat. I’ll get the diaper bag.”
“You think he needs changing?”
“I’m going to look for a blanket.”
Jeff picked up the bag—a rather elegant designer-looking number with a chain handle and some kind of fancy hardware closure. Nigel thought he might have sent it to Deidre from an Internet baby store while she was still pregnant.
“Sit, Nigel. I swear, it’s like you’ve never seen a baby before.”
“I’m not sure I have seen a baby up this close.” Nigel sat gingerly, careful not to jostle Hazard in any way. He reached a finger out to touch the softness of the baby’s cheek and discovered it felt like nothing he’d ever touched before. Like marshmallow velvet, moist but not sticky. Like dough. He laughed and touched the baby’s tiny hand, nearly jumping out of his skin when Hazard’s fingers curled around his and gripped him tight.
“Hello,” Nigel whispered. “Tough little bloke, are we?”
Jeff sat on the coffee table facing him, watching while Nigel explored Hazard. “They’re stronger than they look.”
“He’s got my finger.” Nigel grinned happily.
“He’s going to get your heart too. Just wait.”
Jeff kept his eyes on the baby, and Nigel was glad. It was hard to keep the emotion off his face, and this lump in his throat—the wrenching tenderness he felt for this baby�
�was too new for him to share.
Jeff patted his shoulder. “You’re going to spoil him stupid.”
Nigel wondered if it was possible to spoil a baby that young. He rubbed the bottom of one tiny foot with his thumb. Toes wiggled. Brilliant.
He glanced up. “What do you think he likes at this age?”
Jeff dug around in the bag and came up with a chunky blanket made of two layers of soft, fleecy fabric, tied at the edges in knots. “He probably likes being warm.”
Nigel didn’t move when Jeff tucked the blanket over them.
“He might like being rocked or sung to, in which case you have the advantage over everyone else in his life.”
“I don’t have a lot of experience with this sort of thing.”
“No?”
“Not a whiff.”
“My mom watched kids sometimes for friends. I’ve been to the baby rodeo a couple times.”
Nigel lifted his gaze to Jeff’s. “You’ll tell me if I’m doing anything that will cause irreparable harm?”
“You’ve got this.” Jeff kissed his cheek sweetly, surprising both of them. “Hazard looks good on you.”
Nigel’s heart felt a little lighter. “Really?”
“You’re a natural. The girls will be hungry when they wake up. If you’ll be okay here, I’ll go make something to eat.”
“I think I’ll be fine.”
“You sure?”
“You’ll be the first person to know if I’m not.”
“I’ll hear Hazard crying from the kitchen.”
“If this goes badly, you’ll hear me crying.”
Jeff got up and stretched. “Babies cry. Try not to take it personally, okay? We’ll figure out what he needs, and he’ll stop. It’s just business with babies.”
“All right.” Nigel still held himself rigid. His hands were going to freeze into claws. He had to remind himself he didn’t have to hold on tight. “I don’t know why I’m so nervous.”
Jeff leaned down and kissed him again, this time on his mouth, running a soft tongue over his lower lip before pulling away. He smiled and brushed their cheeks together. “Because you’re a good guy who wants to do well. You’ll be fine.”
Nigel nodded. He wished Jeff would just sit there while he got used to all this, but Jeff left for the kitchen.
“It’s just us, Hazard.” Nigel wasn’t surprised when he didn’t get a response. “Just you and me. Who could have imagined something like this? Are you disappointed?”
Silence.
“I’m not disappointed. You’re marvelous. You’re going to be so happy. You’ve got two amazing mums. My mum would have thought you were perfect, and I’m sorry she’ll never get the chance to know you.”
More silence.
“She had red hair.” Nigel’s eyes stung. “I got dark hair from my father, I guess. It’s starting to come in silver but—don’t tell anyone—I pull them. Mum’s went white over her eye, like a stripe. Some of the old birds where we lived accused her of having it done. Counsel-housing bitches.”
Hazard batted at the fabric of Nigel’s T-shirt, then gripped it in the fist that wasn’t holding Nigel’s finger.
“Sorry. I guess I mustn’t curse now either. Carry on, say what you’re thinking,” Nigel whispered. “You’ve sprung from the shallow end of the gene pool.”
This is too new. I’m too raw. God help me, but I’m falling through the murky water again, out of my depth, out of my mind with emotions I don’t even recognize.
“You want to hear a song? Mum used to sing it to me. Here goes, okay? It’s Gaelic so I’ve no idea at all what I’m singing, except it’s about birds. If you like, I’ll have it translated and let you know.
“Éiníní, éiníní, codalaígí codalaígí
Éiníní, éiníní, codalaígí codalaígí…”
* * *
JEFF LISTENED TO Nigel sing from the kitchen. He didn’t understand the words, but it made him happy to hear Nigel singing.
He’d started potatoes boiling and cut up vegetables for a Spanish omelet for Deidre. It was weird to think of her lying in bed with her wife—her legal wife—while Nigel watched their baby. It felt good, but that didn’t make it any less weird.
He’d have to wrap his brain around Dee being a mother.
It seemed unbelievable—after years of hiding and DADT—to live in plain sight with Dee and Katje’s family, with Nigel and his penchant for cross-dressing and PDA. So easy—so far.
Maybe too easy.
Jeff couldn’t help the feeling that there was another shoe yet to drop.
Despite how happy his family appeared, and how relieved he’d be to leave the responsibility for Nigel to his sister again, Jeff found himself outside the loop yet again—alien and sad—because now that his sister was back on the job, they’d all move on. Nigel had a tour coming up, and Dee, Katje, and the baby would travel with him.
Jeff would go back to school as a twenty-eight-year-old veteran—making him feel like the oldest living undergrad. He had to look for a job and find a place to live. If he settled in Austin, at least his mom would be there, but he’d have to make new friends, find a new surrogate family.
Starting over was the lesson life kept teaching him, again and again. Just when he got comfortable, just when it seemed things were falling into place, when he was happy and knew where he belonged, everything changed.
Chapter Fifteen
“Paxton, are you fucking with your phone again?” Beneath the music, the noise of the crowd, the crack of pool balls, and the repetitive chiming of video games came a rhythmic thumping sound. “A little service here?”
Jeff sent his text and put his phone back into his pocket. He turned and found his best customer, RoadKill Roadhouse’s owner, Dennis “Mac” MacKenzie, drumming on the bar.
“Don’t I pay you to keep my glass full?”
Jeff got him another draft. “It’s your place. If you want to drink all your beer, it’s fine with me.”
Someone was playing “Gimme Shelter” on the jukebox, and of course, like everything else in his life, the song reminded Jeff of Nigel. Nigel could do a Mick Jagger impression that would fool Mick’s mother.
RoadKill, a big place just outside of Austin, off the I-35, had filled up early that night. The music featured rock and blues with a lot of country thrown in, and it had either once been a barn or it had been built from reclaimed materials, because Jeff could swear it still smelled of hay and horse. Most of the patrons were urban cowboys and weekend bikers, folks who wanted a place to play pool, drink, and make a little trouble but weren’t into pretending they were outlaws. Nobody took themselves seriously enough to keep a full-time bouncer busy.
Work could be hectic, but even as the cocktail waitresses kept him pouring a steady stream of drinks and the men and women at the bar chatted him up, he still managed to spend a little time each night hanging out with Mac, a family friend since the days when Jeff’s dad had still been alive.
Mac was the guy who’d waited a decent interval before trying to talk Jeff’s mother into a second bite at love’s apple. He’d been at it for close to ten years. Hope never failed in his heart, that was for sure.
Mac had given Jeff a crash course in pulling beer and pouring whiskey and told him who needed hitting and why. He’d even taught Jeff to make all kinds of fancy drinks for the patrons that wanted them, so now he was a proper mixologist.
RoadKill was a pretty fun place to work and Jeff fit in fine, but it was like the army—he lowered his head and kept his private life to himself. He worked hard, and if he was on the early shift, sometimes he drank hard because he was lonely.
Jeff’s phone alerted him he had another text. He’d look at it later, when he wasn’t under Mac’s watchful eye.
“You’re like a teenager with that thing,” Mac said sourly. “Do you think you could turn it off while you work?”
“Sorry, man.” Jeff switched the sound off. “Deidre sends pictures of the baby all the time.”
“I was like that when my kid was born, except we only had the telegraph back then. Can’t send a picture through the telegraph wires.”
Jeff grinned at him. “Isn’t that a country song?”
“Should be.” Mac took a deep swallow of beer.
Deidre did send pictures, but Nigel was Jeff’s most frequent texter. Since Nigel had gone on tour, he had become a maniac for messaging, sending dozens of texts and pictures every day, most of them silly but hilarious observations about his life on the road—all of them some variation of it’s crazy here but I’m perfectly fine so don’t worry.
Some were naughty. Nigel spent a lot of his time sitting around, and a Nigel at loose ends with a phone that had a camera was bound to make trouble.
“How are they doing?”
“Okay, I guess. Deidre and Katje have their own RV, and Katje spends her time with the baby while Deidre works. She’s a stay-at-motor-home mom.”
“And Gasp?”
“Is still Gasp.” Jeff couldn’t help a smile. “Some film school student is making a documentary, and he’s driving her crazy.”
“And how about you? Is he still driving you crazy?” Mac peered at him. “I’ve known you since you were a kid, son. You ain’t smiling like that because of a text from your sister.”
Jeff flushed. “No. I guess not.”
“Jeffie’s got a crush on a rock star.”
“Yeah, man. Laugh it up. Maybe I’ll start a rumor that rattlesnake piss is the secret ingredient in your microbrew.”
“Go ahead.” Mac took a good swallow. “That is what makes it taste so good.”
A scuffle by one of the pool tables grabbed Jeff’s attention, but it sorted itself out before anyone had to do anything.
Jeff’s suppressed the urge to answer his phone when it vibrated again. Mac was right; he was acting like a kid.
“How’s your mom doing?” Mac asked.
“Last I talked to her, she was in heaven. Deidre got her a new smartphone and they’re videoconferencing all the time. When the tour goes to Atlanta, Mom’s going to meet up with them so she can spend some more time with the baby.”
Gasp! Page 15