Scrambled Babies (7 page)

He returned to the necessary resolution of the screw-up.  Okay, first, he had to discover if the “kidnapping” had hit the media.  Second, Ryan was probably in as good hands as this kid was.  Well, no, probably in better hands, as a matter of fact—a woman’s.  Steve still changed a diaper with some lack of natural flair.  A football he handled with artistry.  A three-month-old boy—well, admittedly, not as well. 

So all he had to do was find this woman, get an apology from her for causing such grief, and get the right kid back into the right hands
.  Except, of course, I’m left-handed!
  He grinned.  Then frowned
.  You’ve got to stop that!  This is serious guano, you moron!  Your entire career could go in the toilet if you’re not careful! 

Then Steve reverted to sports analogies the way he always did under pressure.  He felt the immensity of the occurrence “crash through the line.”  It was a huge, ugly, grinning, three-hundred-and-twenty-five-pound defensive tackle! 
When this hits the airwaves, the network will go ballistic.  Even though she caused the mix-up, who would believe that?  You’re going to get blamed, Steve—you’re the man!  No one in the world is going to believe that a mother could pick up the wrong kid.  Who could do such a thing?  The uncaring male!  That’s who!  All preoccupied with his job and crap like that.  You kidnapped a child, you man, you!  You’re responsible for causing this woman untold grief and emotional damage, even though it was simply an honest mistake.  You are in big trouble, Steve, baby! 

He felt perspiration break out on his upper lip. 
Son of a bitch, I’ll not only lose my job, but she’ll sue me for emotional distress!  How the hell did I let this happen?  That goddam gorgeous mouth!  That’s how it happened.  She should be kept in a convent with a mouth like that!  Son-of-a-bitching lethal weapon, for god’s sake!

“Buddy, I’m calling the flight attendant if you aren’t out of there in one minute.  I mean it.  How long can a guy wait?”

Damn New Yorkers! 
“Okay, okay.  I’m coming out.”
 
Steve opened the door, not certain he was ready to face the fierce double-overtime that seemed to be looming at the end of this “ball game.”

#

When he reached the children’s department at Bloomingdale’s, he noticed that the clerk behind the counter wasn’t bad.  She was also wearing a wonderful fragrance.  He particularly noticed her mouth.  She had a great smile.  Steve never missed a woman’s mouth.  Her body also beckoned him.  She had a body like Crystal’s, actually.  Long torso, firm breasts, and great rear.  But her face wasn’t Crystal’s
.  Let’s applaud that particular fact
.

Steve’s mission at Bloomingdale’s was to buy a childseat suitable for air travel to Boston where he was the color man for the Boston Red Sox.  There was no way he could continue leaving Ryan behind with his nanny, Greta, when he traveled to do games.  Not and still maintain the role he had publicly professed and the media had dubbed him, America’s Mr. Mom.  So Steve needed to start taking Ryan with him to keep up appearances.  But Steve didn’t want Greta traveling with them.  Talk about cramping his style.  So he would hire the professional nanny services provided by the hotels.

“May I help you?” offered the woman with the beckoning mouth and body behind the counter.

“Uh, yes, yes, you can.  I’m looking for a childseat that works on a jetliner.  Do you have anything like that?”

“Well, sir, all the auto seats will work on planes as well.”  Her smile was certainly warm.  He fought back his natural desire to become interested in her. 
Once is enough!
 

“Oh, is that right?  My car has one built in, so I—”

“Well, in that case, this is the latest in child travelseats, sir.  It’s from the Zoo Kingdom line.  They make the finest in children’s apparel and accessories.  But I’m sure you are already aware of that.  What do you think?”

Steve focused on her mouth. 
Good-looking and a damn good salesperson too.
  Steve reluctantly moved his eyes from the clerk’s mouth to the seat.  It looked okay to him.  He didn’t really know what “the latest” meant.  Probably more money than the previous model.  But if that’s what today’s upbeat mothers were buying, then that would work for him. 

“Hmm.  Cute little animals all over it.”  Steve picked up the seat and checked it over as if he knew what he was looking for.  “It looks fine to me.  I’ll take it.  How much is it?”

“Two hundred fifty-nine ninety-five and with tax”—.  She hit a few buttons on her register.  “Two hundred sixty-eight thirty-seven.  Will that be charge or cash?”

Steve’s attention was cornered by her mouth again.  She certainly had a fabulous smile.  “Uh, charge.”
 Three hundred bucks for a travelseat?  What’s the damn thing do, change diapers automatically?
  “Yes, charge, please.”

“May I have your card, sir?”

Steve dug into his pocket for his wallet and extracted his charge card.  His Bloomingdale’s charge card.
 I’m probably getting taken again.  I really don’t have the time to read up on this stuff.  I guess it’s what I deserve for shopping here.
 

The salesclerk’s perfume came across the counter again.
 Mmm!  That damn perfume is dangerous. 
He handed his charge card to the great-smelling woman.  He noticed how fine her hands were.  Nails not too long.  Fingers slender and well cared for.  No garish nail polish.
  Stop it, Steve!  You’re asking for trouble.  I know I really need a mother for Ryan, but the women all want to get married!

“Thank you, Mr. Kaselman.  It’ll be only a minute.  By the way, have you seen the matching blanket that goes with the Zoo Kingdom travelseat?  Most moth—” she corrected herself, “most people who buy the seats also buy the matching blanket.  It has a little hook that—” and she demonstrated how the blanket hooked securely to the seat to keep the little one from kicking it off and perhaps unwittingly chilling itself.  “See?  What do you think?”

Much as he fought it, Steve had no sales or any other resistance for—he searched to find her name badge—Yvonne.  “Great!  Great!  Yes, I can see I definitely need a matching blanket.  How much is that, Yvonne?”

She hit a few buttons again.  “That will be one hundred forty-six fifty-six, including tax.”

“Go for it.  You’ve made a sale, Yvonne.”  He liked saying her name.  He hadn’t said a woman’s name since Crystal left him.  He had made some kind of weird vow.  Now he was breaking the vow and lowering his resistance to attractive women.  How long had it been?  Eight months since he’d had a woman in bed?

Yvonne had finished ringing up the sale.  She was putting the blanket in a bag.  The childseat came in the manufacturer’s box.  Yvonne!  She was the first female to stir Steve since Crystal.
Does this mean I—?

“Here is your blanket, Mr. Kaselman.  Thank you for shopping Bloomingdale’s.”

Steve took the package slowly.  “Yes.  Yes.  And thank you for the help,” and he said her name again, “Yvonne.”

“It will be a pleasure anytime I can help you, Mr. Kaselman.  Please visit me again.”

“Yes.  I will.  I definitely will.  Thank you.”  Steve took his packages, gave Yvonne a covert, wistful glance, and walked out of Bloomingdale’s with the latest in children’s travelseats.

As he pushed through the revolving door, the image of Yvonne tarried foremost in his mind.  Yet he doubted if he could
ever
find a woman he would seriously consider marrying.

#

Steve emerged from the restroom, balancing the girl baby on his left forearm.  Long-Island-accent flustered in as soon as there was enough space for his broad behind.   The man mumbled something unintelligible about not knowing a baby was in there and closed and locked the door behind him.

Steve looked down the aisle.  Did he have guilt written all over his face?  He got that awful feeling people have when they do something wrong and are sure everyone knows, although, in this case, that knowledge would be impossible for anyone but Steve to have.  Guilty feeling or not, he wasn’t about to cause an uproar on the plane.  He was going to keep the baby screw-up a secret as long as possible.  He was hoping that the woman who had his baby was thinking the same thing.  But the chances of that happening were slim to nil.  His—their—screw-up was probably splashed all over the national news by now.  Bewitching-mouth would report having his kid and would be calling the police to reclaim hers.  After all, she was the woman in the situation.  She had nothing to worry about.

Damn!  What a time to be up in an airplane and not be able to hear the news!
  For all he knew, the “kidnapping” story was on every wire in the country! 
Steve!  Get a grip!  You didn’t do anything wrong—just stupid!  Hell, maybe you didn’t do anything at all!  Maybe the network will understand.
  He exhaled through pursed lips. 
Fat chance!
  This kind of thing made the media big-time, and careers went right down the tubes!

Steve’s mind raced.  He would like to call Maury, his agent.  But how could he talk with any privacy on an airplane full of people even in first class?  Why hadn’t he thought to call Maury when he was in the restroom? But, then, how can you think of anything at all when you discover you have someone else’s kid! 

He checked his watch.  He figured they’d be in the air for another twenty minutes before landing at Logan International.  Then he had to race to the newspaper to make his article deadline, do his five o’clock network sportscast on remote, and make it to the stadium by six to do the color portion of the game. 

Suddenly, his cell phone went off. Everyone in first class turned to look at him.
I thought I silenced that thing! Oh my god, this is it!  This is Maury telling me I am in big trouble.
 

“Hi, lover!”  Steve was surprised to hear a woman’s voice at the other end.

“Pony?”  So he was going to get the news from Pony.  He could think of people he’d rather hear it from.  Well, actually, he wasn’t really ready to hear it from anyone.

“Who else, baby boy?  How are things at thirty thousand feet?  Not as exciting as on cloud nine with me, right, Stevo?”

“Pony, for crissake, what the hell are you calling me for?”

 “Oh, Stevie, do I have to have a reason to call the most gorgeous hunk this side of any ballfield?”

Penelope “Pony” Aloni was a female sportscaster with huge, overt designs on Steve Kaselman.  Every since Crystal had dropped from Steve’s life, Pony had wasted no time trying to fill that particular void.  She had worked extensively with Steve since his early days at the network and had always had a secret crush on him.  Now she was openly aggressive about her feelings.  It wasn’t that she was unattractive.  She was a swimmer.  She had been the U.S. Olympic women’s swim team captain.  Pony was long, sleek, and dark.  She was what most men would call a ten.  Probably a ten-plus!  But for Steve, Pony and he had no sexual chemistry.  Beautiful?  Yes.  But sexy?  Not to Steve.

Steve was confused as hell.  “Come on, come on, stop playing games.  You’re calling because you heard the big news, right?”

“What big news?”

“On TV.  The baby business.  You know.”

There was an obvious blank on the other end phone.  “I know what?  Steverino, you okay?”

He hated it when she called him that.  And all the other pet names she called him.  He had told her a million times to cut it out.  But Pony was unstoppable.  Right now, though, maybe she wasn’t playing games.  Maybe she hadn’t heard anything.  Steve was becoming encouraged.  “Yeah, I’m fine. Fine.”  Apparently, the woman had not notified the authorities.  Why not, Steve couldn’t fathom.  Pony, being in the news business, would have definitely heard about it by now.  So he was safe, at least for the time being. 

“Stevo, say something!  You there?  What the hell are you talking about?  Baby business?”

He had to think quickly.  “Uh, that story about selling babies.  You know.”