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I called my younger sister, Claire, hoping that she was available. Voice mail.
I chewed my bottom lip, vacillating between calling my mom and calling Ronnie.
I went with Ronnie.
“Hey, babe, you available to watch Grady tonight for me?” I asked, hailing a cab.
“Oh, honey child, why do you do this to me? You know I would die to watch the little man, but I totally have plans already. Unless you don’t mind if I take him with me,” he answered with a dubious tone that immediately set off alarm bells.
“Where are you going?” I asked, wary. “No drag shows.”
“Oh, poo. Well, if you’re going to be like that, then no, I already have plans.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “You know you can’t take Grady to a drag show. Most are held at a bar.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. This is a private show, and mostly kid-friendly. I think.”
Yeah, I wasn’t about to take the chance. “Not this time,” I said, chuckling. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Grady to be safe with Ronnie, but sometimes my friend didn’t think about how impressionable a six-year-old was, and learning how to effectively tuck a penis wasn’t a skill set I needed my son to pick up anytime soon. “No worries. Enjoy your show,” I said and clicked off.
That left my mom.
Ugh. My mom and I were often on opposite sides of everything. For example, my mom thought I ought to be going after Grady’s dad for child support even though I’d explained that it was better for Grady and me if Houston wasn’t involved. I wasn’t about to poke the sleeping bear. Houston was content to pretend that he didn’t have a son, and I was totally fine with that. But my mom saw only the potential dollar signs floating out the window.
“He needs to take responsibility for his son,” she’d said during one of the many pointless arguments on the subject. “He has enough money—he needs to pay up.”
“I don’t want Houston around Grady,” I’d replied, hoping the conversation was finished. “We’re better off. Houston isn’t exactly ready to be a father.”
“You should’ve thought of that before getting knocked up,” Ellen Hughes disparaged with a cool look. “If your father were alive today...well, let’s just say he’d be having words with that young man.”
I winced, hating when she brought up the subject of my dad. “Leave Dad out of this,” I warned. “The man has earned his rest after being married to you for thirty years.” It was harsh, but things tended to slip out when I argued with my mother.
“Lauren Elizabeth Hughes, you watch your mouth. I didn’t raise you to be disrespectful.” My mother’s mouth pinched as she added disapprovingly, “A boy needs his father.”
“No, he doesn’t if that father is a useless playboy who cares more about partying than raising a child,” I returned sharply, giving my mother “the look” as I finished putting away Grady’s toys. My mother took the hint and gathered her things to leave. “Do you need me to call a cab?” I asked helpfully, but my mom was already out the door.
So, yeah, I wasn’t super excited to have her babysit.
I could always bring Grady with me.
The thought popped into my head almost as a joke, but then I realized maybe that was an excellent idea.
I doubted Nico would try anything inappropriate with a six-year-old boy in attendance.
Maybe I was risking my mom card for using my kid as a shield, but the idea had merit. The more I thought about it, the more I realized it was a viable solution to a sticky issue.
With Grady there, I could keep the conversation on point and I could also use Grady as a legitimate reason to leave on time.
I’d get my interview and escape with my integrity.
Problem solved.
CHAPTER SIX
Nico
IN PREPARATION FOR TONIGHT, I had the best mood music set, soft lighting and a menu course that never failed to impress.
My buddies never failed to give me shit about my enjoyment of cooking, but I took pride in my work.
I believed men should be able to do two things well: cook and fuck.
And I excelled at both.
My doorbell went off, and I smiled at her punctuality.
I strode to the door with a wide smile, ready to go another round with Miss Hughes, but when I opened the door I stopped short, my smile freezing in place as confusion rapidly set in.
“Hello, my name is Grady.” A small boy with glasses perched on his button nose thrust his little hand up at me. I faltered, inelegantly surprised by the unexpected plus-one, but Lauren filled in the blanks quickly—and, if I wasn’t mistaken, I caught a spark of mischief in her dark eyes.
“Single mom, no babysitter so that means it’s take-your-kid-to-work night. I hope you don’t mind.” She smiled broadly as if she knew throwing a kid in the mix had just crumpled all of my elaborate plans. Just then, a sexy song came on the playlist and I felt as exposed as if she’d caught me with my pants down.
Hot damn, she’d just taken things to the next level.
But I was nothing if not quick on my feet and recovered with a smile. “No worries, nice to meet you, little man,” I said. I shook the boy’s hand, impressed with his solid handshake. “Come in. You’re in luck that I didn’t plan for the lobster soufflé. I thought I might go with something a little less stuffy for our interview. I hope you like spaghetti.”
Grady answered first, piping in, “I love pasketti. It’s my favorite, but are you going to make garlic bread, too?”
Precocious little kid. I liked him already. “Of course,” I answered. “Have you ever known a self-respecting Italian to serve a meal without bread?”
“Good man,” Grady said, nodding with approval as he made his way into my living room, taking in the surroundings. “My mom says that you’re a rich man with poor morals, but how good are you in the kitchen?”
Lauren gasped, embarrassed by her son’s honesty. “Grady! Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry,” she exclaimed, sending Grady a look that said, cool it, kid, but a smile pulled at my mouth. If I had a quarter for every time I’d embarrassed my mother by what’d popped from my mouth...well, I’d be even richer than I already was. “I don’t know what’s come over him. We have this problem at school, too. We can’t always say what we want to say whenever we think it. Isn’t that right, Grady? Please apologize.”
“Not necessary,” I assured her, grinning more widely. Yeah, I definitely liked the kid, especially when I knew now that I could probably get whatever information I needed out of the loose-lipped terrorist. “That’s the thing about kids and drunks—they’re always honest.” I winked at Grady, then gestured for him to follow me into the kitchen. “But to answer your question, I kick ass when I’m cooking. The bigger question, little man, is what are you going to do to make yourself useful?”
My brow arched with mock sternness, but he wasn’t intimidated in the least, which I found another point in his favor.
“I can do whatever you can do,” he boasted without a hint of bashfulness but added when Lauren laughed a little nervously, “Except work the oven. Mama says I’m too young, even though I watched a YouTube video on how to work the burners and that worked out pretty good.”
“What did the world do before YouTube?” I asked, only half joking because I was fairly certain YouTube was going to make college courses obsolete at some point. “But your mom is probably right about the oven. Best leave that to the adults or at least someone tall enough to ride the big-kid rides at Disneyland.”
“Grady, I’m sure Nico is kidding about having you help.”
“I’m absolutely not kidding. You’re going to work, too,” I told her, earning a wary smile. “The best way to get to know someone is in the kitchen.”
“Then you’re gonna find out real fast that my mom doesn’t make very good food,” Grady confided, then cast his
mother an apologetic look. “But you try real hard, and that’s what counts.”
