Simple Man (16 page)

When he pulled away they were both breathless. Her lips were nude and puffy. God, she was cute.

“Goodnight,” he whispered.

“Goodnight,” she mimicked. And this time, when she tried to leave, he let her.

Chapter Eleven

Shane dried off from his shower and combed out his hair. It was getting really long. He wondered if Kate liked long hair on guys. And tattoos. And did she like musicians for that matter? Tonight he’d seen a whole new side of her. His prim and proper caseworker was a little bit of a retro punk. He liked that.

After pulling on a pair of sweats, he checked on Logan, laying a palm gently on his back. Sometimes he was so still when he slept it was almost frightening. His body temperature felt good, normal.

Today had been terrifying. He was definitely taking his little man to the doctor’s tomorrow to see what was what.

Quietly pressing the button on the thermometer, he reset it and pressed it to Logan’s ear. 97.9. Shutting his eyes, he let out a breath of relief and thanked the gods his temp dropped.

At the closet he pulled out the soft quilt that belonged to his mother. When he was a little boy and didn’t feel good, she’d cover him with it and let him rest on the couch all day. While his friends were at school he’d catch up on
Three’s Company
reruns and
Gilligan’s Island
. He always passed out during
The Facts of Life
.

He scooped Logan up and cradled him to his chest, shushing him when he started to stir. He told himself he was comforting his sick little man, but knew he was acting more for his own piece of mind.

Shutting out the hall light, he carried Logan to the couch and made a nest of pillows along the floor. He carefully reclined, curling his arms protectively around his boy, and faced the back of the couch. He needed a new couch.

Shane stared at Logan, experiencing a wonder of emotion welling up inside of him out of nowhere. He’d been scared tonight—really scared—more scared than he’d probably ever been. He’d be more than willing to admit at this point that babies were not as easy to take care of as they seemed.

Logan’s small, rosy mouth puckered and he sighed in his sleep. He looked like an angel. So much so, Shane was tempted to check for wings.

He smiled. “You’re my boy.”

That night he rested on the surface of sleep, never really truly relaxing, tuned into every whispered breath or sound Logan made. It was a tense night, but at the same time, totally reassuring to hold him through the dark.

Somehow, Shane’s rest didn’t matter. He was exhausted, but found a reserve of usable energy to take care of Logan. He’d always take care of him, no matter what.

The following day, once they returned home from the pediatrician’s, Shane cleaned. His place hadn’t been tidied up like that since…ever. It needed a good scrubbing desperately.

He reorganized his medicine cabinet, assigning an entire shelf to baby stuff. He cleaned out the drawers in his bedroom, which were mostly jammed with CDs and crap. He actually folded his clothes and put them away. It was a novel concept, not leaving clothes out on the dresser or the floor or wherever. He even arranged two drawers for Logan’s pint-sized wardrobe and blankets.

The doctor said Logan likely picked up a twenty-four hour bug. Shane had tons of questions and the other parents in the waiting room gave him the stink eye as he left, probably because he took up so much of the doctor’s time. Well, tough shit.

By the following evening his little man seemed to be acting more himself. Shane vacuumed and spread a blanket out on the floor along with several toys. He didn’t have much. There was a used baby toy store he passed on the way home from work he wanted to stop by next time he got paid. Right now Logan’s favorite toy was a rubber spatula.

He compulsively checked his phone, but other than a few texts from the guys there was nothing. He didn’t know why he expected Kate to call. She never had before, but for some reason he found himself wishing she would.

When he was done for the night he sat on the floor with his back to the couch and played his acoustic as Logan sang and gurgled along. Logan liked being serenaded so Shane sang him some Jack Johnson and rolled into a bit of
Somewhere Over the Rainbow.

Logan’s eyes grew heavy. He blinked slowly and rolled to his back. His hands balled into pudgy fists and played over his face. Shane quietly watched as he played, finding it therapeutic to observe his little man discover new things at every turn.

As his fingers gently strummed the notes Logan grew more and more sleepy. He played on, singing softly, turning the riff into a soft lullaby. Logan was sound asleep by the time he crooned the verse about clouds being far behind.

Shane played out the song, ending on a slow harmonic pull of his voice. Grinning, he placed his guitar on the couch, and carried Logan to his crib.

* * * *

“Holy shit! You gotta come look at the steamer I just left in your toilet,” Duce shouted from the bathroom.

“No thanks, man.”

His friend peeked around the corner. “Seriously, my nickname should be The Riddler. It’s a perfect question mark!”

“I’ll pass.”

The toilet flushed and Duce came into the living room. “Your loss. That was some impressive shit. Literally.”

Shane flipped through the weekly saver and ignored his friend.

Duce plopped down in the chair and picked up the remote. “What’s up with you today?”

Shane tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“You’re all quiet.”

He shrugged. “I don’t have anything to say.”

Duce’s phone buzzed and he looked at it. “Lisa’s having some friends over. Tucker wants us to go over there.”

“You know I can’t do that. I got Logan.” He spotted a coupon for formula and tore it out.

“You could bring him.”

“I don’t think so.” On the next page there was a buy one get one free on diaper rash cream. It wasn’t the kind he usually used, but the price was good.

Duce sighed. “I’m bored.”

“Then go over to Lisa’s.”

A few minutes passed. “I bet Sue will be there.”

“Then I’m sure Sims will too.”

His friends’ stare irritated his senses like little needles over his nerves. “I thought you were into her?”

“I’m not into girls my friends have been in.”

He snorted. “No way Sims made it that far. He’s a total ball bag around girls. Doesn’t know how to talk to them. We should go over there just to see him make an ass out of himself.”

“No thanks.”

When Shane finished going through the circular he’d clipped about ten good coupons. He stacked them up and tossed the rest. In the kitchen he rinsed out his cup and made a bottle for Logan. He’d be getting up soon.

“Next month Logan’s going to be able to have cereal. That’s gonna be cool to give him actual food.”

Duce frowned at him in confusion. “What, like Lucky Charms and shit?”

“No, it’s like oatmeal sort of. He can’t have real food for a while still.” Duce continued to stare at him as if he had three heads. “What?”

“I think you need to get out.”

“I went out last night,” Shane reminded him.

“Yeah, to play a gig. When’s the last time you went out just to hang?”

Shane shrugged and washed his hands. “I haven’t felt like it. Besides, I already have Lisa babysitting three times a week while I’m playing at Moosen’s. I can’t afford another night of babysitting
and
the cost of a night out.”

“But you’re getting paid decent.”

“Money’s tight. If you want to go out, go. No one’s holding you hostage here.”

Duce’s lips pursed as he flipped through the channels. After a while he said, “Sims said your caseworker’s hot.”

“Sims can keep his fucking eyes and opinions to himself.”

Duce faced him, a wide grin slowly crawling over his face. “Aw, you like her.”

Shane pulled out a diaper and the box of wipes. Logan usually pooped around this time of day. “Shut up.”

“I only saw her real quick one time, but she looked all right.”

Shane shrugged, pretending he wasn’t interested. She was more than all right. Anyone who didn’t see how cute she was had a vision problem.

“You gonna ask her out?”

“Dunno.”

“You put the moves on her yet?”

“What are you writing a fucking book?”

“No. Just asking. Dude, what the fuck are you doing? The kid’s sleeping.”

Shane looked down at his artillery he’d set up on the coffee table. He had the yoga mat, a diaper, the wipes, the butt paste, and a bottle. “He’s gonna wake up soon.”

Duce shook his head. “I think you need a break from all this. You’re clipping coupons, your place’s clean, pretty soon you’re gonna start jarring homemade applesauce and shit like that Diane Keeton chick in that
Baby Boom
movie. Where’s the old Shane?”

He frowned. He hadn’t changed that much, only in matters where Logan was concerned, which just so happened to touch every part of his life. So what if he’d been slightly overhauled by a three month old? He was becoming more responsible as a result of all of it. Nothing wrong with that.

Before he could formulate an answer Logan woke up. He stood and went to get him. When he returned he laid him on the mat and undid his diaper. Duce made a gagging sound. “What the hell is in that formula?”

“Babies poop,” Shane said, as he went about changing him.

“Maybe
he
should be called The Riddler,” Duce mumbled.

As Shane leaned back to feed Logan, Duce dropped the remote on the table and stood. “I’m gonna take off.”

“All right.”

He hesitated by the door, keys to the roller skate in his hand. “You should come. Lisa’s not gonna let things get crazy. You could bring the kid.”

“No. Were just gonna hang here.”

“Suit yourself.”

* * * *

The following day Shane stopped in at the used baby toy store. There was a ton of stuff. It was all clean and in great shape. He couldn’t wait until Logan was a bit bigger and could play on the big plastic slides and baby equipment. For now, however, he had his eye on a baby swing and a mat with all sorts of plush rattles dangling from two cross arches.

The mat was only ten dollars, but the swing was forty. He had about twenty dollars he could spare. He bought the mat and left, wondering if he should have held off and saved up for the swing.

That night he sat down and did the bills. Things were really tight. After his lot rent and car payment he had practically nothing left. He had to start shutting out lights and conserving water. His utilities were killing him. He’d cut back on personal bullshit, like beer, and also called the cable company to change his service package. But even after those cut backs he was still barely getting by.

The following day he did something extreme he knew he’d catch a bunch of bullshit from the guys for. With a heavy heart, he packed up his game station and all his games and drove it to the refurbishing place on Route 9. He walked out with a hundred and seventy bucks and that night he walked into his home with a swing and a bag full of baby clothes. It was a bittersweet feeling he decided was more sweet than bitter.

It’d been a week since he’d seen or heard from Kate. He debated calling her, but didn’t have a valid casework related excuse. He had the impression she was going to act like nothing happened. At one point he even called the Children and Youth office to ask a question about his court date, well aware his hearing was scheduled for September first, but he wanted a reason to call.

It was stupid. He didn’t even talk to Kate. Some receptionist asked for his social security number and looked on a computer and gave him the date, probably right before making a note in his file that he was a forgetful douche.

By Friday he was pissed off. Wasn’t she supposed to be doing a job? Shouldn’t she be keeping a better eye on them? He knew she was only expected to visit every few weeks, but he’d gotten used to seeing her. Logan even admitted he missed the nice woman with the cardigans.

The Moosen Grill was working out great for both him and the owner. He’d started drawing a crowd and Arty asked him to continue playing there through the summer months.

Lisa agreed to continue babysitting until she started up her night classes again in August, at which point he’d have to make other arrangements. But he’d cross that bridge when he got to it.

He was just opening up his second set on Friday, the dinner crowd thick, when he did a double take. He was singing a cover of Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young’s
Ohio
when his fingers slipped. Luckily the crowd didn’t take notice.

His mind blanked and he quickly fumbled for the right note as his eyes set on Kate standing by the door. Not Kate the barfly, but Kate the caseworker. Dressed in a pristine white cardigan and a pale blue sundress, her golden hair hung loose around her face and she had that shiny stuff on her lips. Her shoes were little gold slippers with bows.

A slow grin split his face, making it difficult for his mouth to climb over the words. It was hard not to sing her name so she saw him. She worked her way through the crowd and his eyes followed her. It was awesome she was here. Did she come to see his—his face harden.

She smiled as she approached a booth along the far wall. A man with a blond buzz cut wearing a pansy ass pink polo shirt stood. When he leaned in to kiss her on her cheek Shane’s jaw clenched.

Who the fuck was this tool bag?

Kate blushed and slid into the booth. Her blushes were supposed to be for him, not dweebs who wore pink button up collars.

The waitress arrived at their table and he watched them order. Was she on a date?

Shane finished out the song and took a swig from his water bottle. Should he say hi? Maybe play her a song? Completely thrown, he referred to his list of songs and moved on to the next one. He tore into an acoustic version of Petty’s
American Girl
and watched them.