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Authors: Babe Hayes

Scrambled Babies (19 page)

BOOK: Scrambled Babies
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“Well, I’m going to gate ten.  Where are you going?”

“Gate ten.”

Steve shot her a quizzical look.  “But that’s a flight to L.A.”

“Yes, it is.  That’s where I’m going.”

“Me too.”

Then they said simultaneously,  “But I thought you were going back to New York.”

There was a short silence, and they both laughed.  Madison joined them.

“But I thought you were going back to New York,” Steve repeated.

Paeton laughed again.  “You just said that.  No, I have to get back to L.A.  I’m writing a screenplay for my latest novel.  I’ll have to stay in L.A. for quite a while.  As a matter of fact, I’m also buying a house there.  My agent got me a good advance.” 

From the twinkle in Steve’s eye, he apparently was not averse to flying back with Paeton.  Did he even seem somewhat giddy?  His words tumbled out too fast.  “No kidding?  I’m very interested in a house there too.  I can afford it since my agent got me that great—or not so great, depending on how you look at it—diaper endorsement.  I’ll probably take a lot of ribbing from my buddies.”

“Yeah, jocks don’t wear or sell diapers, I guess.”  Paeton couldn’t resist the dig.

“Man, you sure have a thing about jocks.  We’re people too, you know.  I want you to know that I took excellent care of little Kelsey here.  Why don’t you ask her.”

Paeton didn’t respond.  There was a long silence.  Apparently, neither really wanted the meeting to end.

Finally, Steve spoke.  “Both buying houses in Hollywood.  That’s interesting.  Who knows, we might end up living near each other.”  He cocked his head and said tentatively, “Maybe we’ll end up sitting together on the plane back.  I mean, we have some different perspectives, but we’re not enemies or anything, right?”

Admit it.  The guy is likable.  Besides possessing the eyes of the devil, he is a fun male.  But the other two jocks were fun guys too!  Am I ever going to learn?
  Paeton laughed cautiously.  “No, for heaven’s sake, we’re not enemies or anything.  This whole thing has been insane but intriguing.  Now that it’s over, of course.  I fell to a new level of hell living through it.”  She breathed a deep sigh and her chest rose and fell, taking Steve’s eyes with it.

“Yeah, m-me too.  So if we happen to get seats next to each other, you won’t die or anything?”

Paeton’s only response was to laugh again.

“You guys could have more discussions on the plane,” Madison chimed in happily.

“Oh, right, right.” Paeton responded absently.  Why didn’t she go to her gate for the flight? 
Neighbors?  Would this be a good thing?

Both stood facing each other in the middle of the air terminal, shifting weight from one foot to the other.  The silence was becoming heavy.  Steve moved his hand toward his face.  “Well, let’s lose the mustache.”  He yanked on the gray handlebar.  “Ouch!  Damn that glue!”

“Sh!  The children!”  Paeton instinctively put her finger over Steve’s now-exposed mouth.  Their eyes met and held.  Neither was able to break the lock each had on the other’s eyes!  Both quivered.

Paeton was mesmerized. 
Those eyes!  Why do they find the bottom of my soul?  Why does my finger feel so right on his mouth?  This is too crazy to be true.  Break it off, Paeton.  This is romance-novel stuff only.  Real life is real life.  And love doesn’t happen in an instant in real life.  It’s the stress.  Stress and sex, pure unadulterated sex!  Kevin, god rest his soul, never made me feel like this.  Go!  While the going is good!  Get back to Hollywood.  Go to work.  Write, Paeton.  Write!

If she really believed what she was telling herself, why then did she keep her finger across Steve’s soft lips much longer than necessary? 

When Paeton could no longer sustain the pretense that her sole purpose was to stop Steve from swearing in front of the children, she allowed her finger to slip slowly from his mouth.  “Uh, Fred will be glad to hear everything went fine.  I mean, unscrambling the babies and all.”  She lowered her eyes.

Steve came back quickly on hearing “Fred.”  “I thought you told me there wasn’t anyone—who knew about us, I mean.  Not that I care.”

Do I detect a hint of jealousy?
  “Fred is my agent and publicist.  I didn’t think he counted.  He was the one who congratulated me on not panicking and calling the police about the mix-up.”

“Oh, I guess I owe him a thank-you too.  Of course, I didn’t call the police either.  I tried talking to Pony, but she—”

“Pony?  So you do have a female on a string.”

“Friend.  Pony’s only a friend.  Used to be an Olympic swimmer.  All my friends, and employees for that matter, are athletes or former athletes.  She’s in the media biz now like I am.”

“Penelope ‘Pony’ Aloni?  Two gold medals?  Swimming?  Free-style and four-hundred-meter relay?  1984?”

Steve’s amazement was obvious.  “How do you know that?”

“Swimmer myself in the old days.  Not Olympic by any means.  Only the boys were offered formal competition in high school.  But I did my best with the other women, competing around the state in what you would call sandlot swimming.  I really got into swimming.  So when I was in high school, I followed the women swimmers who were lucky enough to get help from the Olympic Committee.  She’s about my age and was kind of my idol.  Yes, I’ve seen her on TV.  Not the boxing announcing, of course, but other stuff.  ‘Circus of the Stars.’  Shows like that.  By the way, what does she have?  About five percent body fat?  Some, uh,
friend
you have there.”

“Pony?  Five percent body fat?  How would I know that?  Pony is Pony.  Yeah, some guys think she’s a knockout, and she, I have to admit, she is beautiful, but, you know.”

Were Paeton’s hackles up?  “No, I don’t know.  You have a girlfriend, or you don’t have a girlfriend.”

“I don’t have a girlfriend.  Pony is a—”

“You don’t have to explain anything to me.  I really don’t like it when people don’t say exactly what they mean.”  She folded her arms.

Suddenly, Paeton realized how ridiculous she was being.  His social life was absolutely of no interest to her.  They mixed up their babies one preposterous moment at an airport.  That was their only connection.  These other things—Steve’s eyes, his lips, his athletic body—were just sex!  Nothing more!  She and Steve were sexually attracted to one another.  What of it?  When she thought about it, she saw a lot—well, a few men she was attracted to.  Come on, who was she kidding?  Steve Kaselman did things to her that only her heroes did to her heroines.  Nothing like Steve had ever happened to her in her real life.  And strangely, this was real life.  But still, sex is only sex.  She was good at writing about it, but could she live it?  No!  She couldn’t!
  Let’s get back into the real world, Paeton!

“Well, that’s easy for you.  You work in words all the time.”

“I don’t call writing a sports column not working in words.”

“Yeah, but sports, you know, I write any way I want.  I’m not really a writer.  I simply report guy stuff.  I don’t have to create imaginary worlds.”  Steve checked his watch.  “Let’s get out of here.”  Steve started to pick up Ryan’s travelseat. “We have about a half hour before the plane leaves.  Let’s go to our gate.”  Steve checked his ticket.  “What was it?  Ten?”

“That’s what I have.”  Paeton gathered her children and walked side by side with Steve through the terminal to gate ten.  She knew she had to sever this impossible relationship immediately. 

But then she knew that might be impossible as well.

 

#

 

Everything about the flight to L.A. felt normal.  The sound of Madison’s video game was comforting.  Kelsey’s tiny waving arms and cooing noises were wonderfully familiar.  Glimmers of new dialogue for Paeton’s screenplay promised progress.  She could put her life back on track now.  Her brief entanglement with Steve Kaselman was over.  She could now focus on caring for her children, writing the screenplay, and buying her new home.  She felt so warm and secure at the thought of being surrounded by Alice and her friends.  She wondered what school Maddy would attend.

In the same instant, she laughed ironically to herself—the flight to L.A. was anything but normal.  It was rather unsettling, really.  Steve and Ryan were three seats back across the aisle.  Shouldn’t they have been sitting with her and her children?  There was something very right about that image.  But sadly, there was something very unattainable about it.  Her past flashed danger signal after danger signal.

There also was nothing normal about Steve’s touch.  Or her touching him.  Why was their touching so, so invading? 
Sex,
she told herself. 
It’s the sex, stupid!
 Still, her heart couldn’t accept an answer so glib.  But she certainly knew better from her unfortunate past experience than to follow a road promising a dead end, like a sexual affair with a jock.

Paeton heard baby noises behind her.  She couldn’t resist a backward glance.  Steve wasn’t looking at her.  He had responded to Ryan’s gurgle as well.  Steve certainly made it in the “hunk” department.  She had never seen a face so handsome and a manner so jaunty.  He carried his broad chest high and straight.  His highly developed athleticism showed in his walk and the dexterous movement of his arms.  But he was human.  The nickname she had given him was appropriate—his vest was still too tight. 

As always, it was Steve’s eyes that took her breath away.  But what was really behind those forbidding eyes?  She turned forward again.  He had not seen her looking at him. 

Even though they had no say in the matter, sitting apart was best, Paeton reassured herself.  After all, what did they have to talk about now, anyway?  As they had agreed, “separate lives, separate worlds.”  Nonetheless, she was compelled to steal furtive glances at him when she visited the restroom and stretched her legs.  Whenever he caught her at it, he merely smiled back.  No words were spoken.  Was that flutter in her chest a signal from her heart? 

The short, bizarre relationship with Steve Kaselman, Mr. Mom, father to a child, the “twin” of her daughter, had concluded as abruptly as it had begun.  There was no future to Paeton and Steve.  The purple magic-marker heart that sent her reeling upon her eerie revisit to the catastrophic spot in JFK concerned two other lovers.  “P + S” did not equal Paeton and Steve—now or ever!

Paeton stole another glance behind her.  He was lovingly engrossed in his son.  The image brought a jolt—the promise of a family with too-tight-vest?  Her reaction caused her to wonder:  After having once looked into the eyes of Steve Kaselman, could any future for Paeton McPhilomy ever be normal?

 

#

 

Paeton’s life had been reassuringly comfortable the past few days back at the hotel.  Kelsey and Maddy were the wonderful children she had nurtured them to be.  She had made substantial headway on her screenplay and was loving it.  Life was good again.  The one thing nagging her, besides the absence of Steve Kaselman, was the Alice house.  When was Bryce Thryce going to call her to finish the transaction?  Surely the owner was back in town by now.  And since there wouldn’t be any other offers for the “dog house,” why didn’t Thryce call her?

She decided to get Kelsey and Madison into a cab and drive past the house.  Her writing had gone very well that morning before the children woke up, and she was ready to relax for the rest of the day.  She would roll the next few scenes around in her head during the cab ride to her new home.  She got so excited thinking about it, a wonderful shiver scurried through her.

The morning was mild and fragrant, the sun stretching out over the trees.  Paeton’s anticipation rose, because she had never seen the house in the morning sun.  When they reached the place, she was startled to find two cars parked at the curb.  One she knew was Bryce’s.  The other was unmistakable as well.  It was a sleek convertible painted in the ComfyDype motif and bearing the temporary license plate M R  M O M.

BOOK: Scrambled Babies
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