The Fix (Carolina Connections #1) (5 page)

I
started to sweat.

“I
just don’t think it’s a great idea right now.”
Or ever. Just say it – or
ever.

Silence.

“Okay,
no big deal. It was just a thought!” she finally replied, her discomfort
evident. “Well, you let me know if I can send anything else or if you need
something.”

“I
will. Thanks for calling, Reagan. And for all your help. Really.”

“No
problem.” Her voice was quiet. “Bye Nate.” She hung up.

God,
I’m such a douchebag.

Wanted: One Playdate – Willing to Beg

Laney

Suffice
it to say, my talk with Rocco regarding a potential playdate had not gone well.
In fact, it hadn’t even gone at all. I waited a couple days after Mellie’s
phone call to broach the subject, and like a moron I’d chosen to do it as I was
getting him ready for bed one night.

“What
are you looking forward to doing at school tomorrow?” I opened with, helping
him pull his pajama shirt over his head. Why we even bothered to put PJs on every
night when they just ended up on the floor twenty minutes later, I don’t know.

“I
don’t wanna go to school tomorrow.” He frowned and twitched his nose.

“You
don’t? Why not?”

“I
don’t like school.” His eyes started filling with tears and there was that nose
twitch again.
What in the hell was that all about?

“But
school is fun,” I tried. “You get to see your friends and play with toys and
run around on the playground. You love all that stuff.”

“I
wanna stay home with you.” He sniffled and I dabbed at his eyes with a tissue
from the box by his bed.

“But,
buddy, I won’t be here. I have to go to work.”
Kill me now.

“Then
I wanna stay with Uncle Gavin.”

“Baby,
Uncle Gavin has his new job, remember?”

“I
miss Grandma and Grandpa!” Out came the full-fledged wail. “And I hate school!
I’m not going anymore!”

Whose
brilliant idea was it to do this at bedtime? It’s like I was a damn rookie or
something.

Since
that had been an epic fail, I decided yesterday to send a quick e-mail to
Mellie to see if perhaps she might be able to suggest a good candidate for a
playdate. I was surprised when I received a response almost immediately (again
with these daycare teacher genes – the e-mail even had a winky smiley face emoji
and an inspirational quote at the end of it).

Tucker
Peterson, she’d suggested. I had my mark.

My
alarm went off ten minutes earlier than usual this morning and I managed to get
Rocco to school several minutes early, thank you very much. A Tootsie Roll had
provided sufficient motivation to get him in the car that much faster than usual.
As every parent knows, bribery is an essential tool useful in preventing the
explosion of one’s head.

I
stood by the classroom door determined to find my target. I had a vague
recollection in my mind of Tucker’s mom from the first day I’d brought Rocco to
school. If memory served, she had blond hair and was fairly tall and thin.
Aha
,
there she was! And there was Tucker at her side.

Good
God.
Of all the rotten luck.

The
child was wearing a polo shirt with the collar popped and, I kid you not,
seersucker pants. Oh, I’m sorry,
slacks
.

What
five-year-old even owns–
Okay, don’t judge, Laney
.
They
are probably great people. Super, even.
I gave myself an inner smack to the
head and approached with a smile.

“Hi,
are you Tucker’s mom?” I did my best to gush.

She
turned to me and smiled in return. “Yes, I am.”
See? This was going well
already.
“I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met.”

“I
know. I’m Laney Monroe. My son Rocco just started here a few weeks ago.” I
gestured to my son who was – wait, what
was
he doing? He appeared to be
cramming his entire body into his cubby.
Shit
. I quickly looked back to
her hoping she hadn’t noticed my kid being, well, weird. No such luck.

“I’m
Bess Peterson,” she responded, a little less brightly than before, but she did extend
her hand which I enthusiastically shook. Ugh. She did the limp-fish-partial-shake
which made my very firm – and very normal – shake come off as trying way too
hard. My left hand began its ascent to my cheek for a good rub but I stopped
it, thank God, before things got even more awkward.

“It’s
so nice to meet you, Bess. Listen, I know you probably have to run, but I
wanted to invite Tucker over for a playdate this weekend with Rocco.” I glanced
down at her son with a smile that was probably coming off as a little crazy at
this point. But he wasn’t paying attention to me. He was busy with a finger up
his nose while the other hand played with his crotch.
See? Our kids have so
much in common already!

“Oh,
that’s really sweet of you to ask, but I think we’re all booked up this
weekend,” she said, with what really did sound like genuine regret. Alright,
let’s not give up yet.

“Oh,
I understand. Things can get a bit crazy trying to cram everything in after the
work week.” I made some odd zinging sound – or maybe it was more of a whistle –
either way, I was sounding like an absolute moron. I couldn’t have stopped my
hands from coming to my cheeks if you’d paid me a gazillion dollars. Still, obviously
not satisfied with my current level of humiliation, I continued, “How about
next weekend?”

“Gee,
I–” She stopped and shooed Tucker toward his cubby – on the opposite end of the
wall from Rocco’s, mind you – “Have a good day, sweetie!” she called after him
and then turned her smile back to me. “We usually seem to have lots of things
scheduled on the weekends, but I’ll check our calendar and get back to you.
Sorry, I really do have to run. It’s was nice meeting you.” And she was gone.

Note
to self: arrange playdates via e-mail in the future.

Taking
my own advice, I stopped in Mellie’s office on the way out the door to get a
list of e-mail addresses for a few more moms. Armed with new candidates, I drove
to work mentally drafting my incredibly charming e-mails I would send over my lunch
hour to secure a friend for Rocco.

***

By
the following Monday it was evident that the moms at daycare were all big fat
bitches. Okay, maybe that was a bit harsh. It’s hard to accurately judge tone
over e-mail and I certainly hadn’t e-mailed
every
daycare mom, but
still. What were all of these kids doing on the weekends that they couldn’t squeeze
in an hour or two to play? Was there some big Mensa convention I didn’t know
about? More likely, there was a giant sale at the mall on tiny child-sized
penny loafers and actual polo ponies.
Okay, that was a bit judgy.

By
the time I got the fifth rejection e-mail the picture was becoming clearer. It
appeared that all of these kids had been in school together since they were in
diapers. They had their little established play group and apparently the
membership roster was all filled up. It was like
Heathers
for the
nose-picker set.

I
supposed I could try to reach out to some of the parents from Rocco’s old
school but that just seemed even more awkward. If he hadn’t played with their
kids when he had seen them every day, why would they want their kids to come
over to play now?

Grrr!

My
internal rant was interrupted by Annette who stuck her curly head over my
cubicle wall. “I have the perfect guy for you,” she announced. “I’m setting you
up and I will not take ‘no’ for an answer.”

“Um,
hello to you too.”

Annette
continued without acknowledging me. “His name is Alex and he’s twenty nine. He
has a seven year old daughter – divorced – him, not his daughter. He just
started at Dan’s work and he is
really
cute. I made Dan grill him about
his personal life and he is, quote, ‘feeling like I’m ready to start dating
again.’ It’s perfect, but I promised Dan I’d get your permission before giving
him your number. Say yes.” She pushed her glasses up on her nose and put on an
overly bright smile while nodding her head, trying to get me to follow suit.

I
guess I could use a distraction. What the hell.

“Fine.”

***

Week
two of Gavin’s job and he was still employed – woohoo! We had just finished an
early dinner and I was determined to get Rocco in the bathtub tonight if it
killed me. It had been a couple days – alright, five days,
don’t judge me
– since he’d bathed and he was getting ripe. In between showing Rocco mouthfuls
of mashed potatoes at the dinner table, Gavin had shared a few details of his day.

In
my mind it played out like a little show I called “
Gavin Goes to Work,
” such
was my excitement about his new job. There was even a jaunty little theme song
–
I understand, I need a hobby.
My brother may be an idiot, but he was
my
idiot and when it came down to it I just wanted him to be happy. It sounded
like the job was going pretty well and his overall good mood boded
really
well.

I
was just about to start the bath water when the doorbell chimed a painful
warbling sound. One more item to add to the growing fixer-upper list.

“Gav!”
I yelled to my brother. “Can you start Rocco’s bath for me?” I headed for the
front door.

On
the front porch was a tow-headed boy who looked to be around Rocco’s age,
standing next to a smiling woman with auburn hair pulled back in a ponytail. The
woman was tall, probably three inches taller than my 5’5” and she was dressed
in black yoga pants and a dry-fit workout shirt in a bright fuchsia. The boy
was holding a toy gun in one hand and a – hmm, is that a machete? – in the
other. He smiled up at me with a very gummy grin, his two front teeth missing.

“Hi
there!” the woman greeted with a very thick Southern accent – not North
Carolina thick, Texas thick. “I’m Charlotte Baker, your neighbor from just down
the street.” She pointed to her left. “This is my son, Aiden. We just wanted to
introduce ourselves and welcome y’all to the neighborhood!”

“Do
you like guns?” Aiden asked me.

“Hush,”
Charlotte said. “Sorry, his grandpa collects antique guns.”

Understanding
the world of young boys, I glossed right over it and put out my hand. “Hey, I’m
Laney Monroe. It’s nice to meet you. I have a five-year-old son so I’m
familiar.”

“Oh
that’s great!” Charlotte shook my hand – no limp fish evident. “Did you hear
that, Aiden?” Then back to me, “I’ll bet they’d get along real well then.
Aiden’s six.”

Ding
ding ding! Is that the sound of a playdate calling?

“I’m
sure they would,” I returned, torn between calling Rocco for an introduction or
not, fearing that he may be naked and that could be a bit more awkward than NRA
talk. “We’ll have to arrange something.” I made sure to keep my smile just this
side of crazy. Sorry, lady, you’re not getting off my porch without a
commitment.

“Did
you know that a samurai sword can cut a man’s hand off in one swing?” asked
Aiden.

Charlotte’s
plummeting comfort level was obvious. “What has your daddy been lettin’ you
watch on YouTube?”

Eyes
on the prize I let it slide like water off a duck’s back. “Whatever it is, I’m
sure my brother has let Rocco watch worse. Boys will be boys and all that.”
Good grief, I was laying it on thick.

“Oh,
don’t they just beat all?” she drawled. “I think I like you.” She beamed at me,
and God almighty did I beam right back. I think I liked her too.

We
chatted a bit longer until she brought up the second reason for her visit.

“I
wanted to ask if you’ve heard anything about this buildin’ that’s supposed to
be goin’ up by the entrance to the street.” She pointed again in the direction
of her house.

“Um,
I think I may have heard something about that,” I hedged, praying that Gavin
was safely ensconced in the bathroom with Rocco and would not overhear.

“Some
of the other parents and I have been lookin’ into it a little and we’re a bit
concerned. Who knows what kinds of businesses are buildin’ there. We don’t want
some bar openin’ up so close to us, or anything really that’ll mean a bunch of
strangers hangin’ around or loud noise at night. Not to mention the extra
traffic on the street while our kids are out playin’.”

I
had to admit, some of the same thoughts had occurred to me since Gavin had
first brought it up last week. I’d just bought this house, and although I’d
gotten a good deal because of the work it needed, I didn’t want to watch its
value go down. And of course I wanted to live in a safe neighborhood,
especially with Rocco to consider.

“It’s
been difficult to get much information over the phone, so those of us who can
make it were plannin’ on goin’ over there early Thursday mornin’ to try and get
some answers. That’s when they’re gonna start tearin’ down the houses.”

“Mmhm,”
I made a noncommittal noise.

“Anyway,”
she put her hand briefly on my arm. “It would be great if you could make it.
I’m plannin’ on headin’ over around seven to try and catch them early, and I
know a couple other people who are comin’.” Her face brightened again. “Oh,
hey, and we’re also gonna have a little get-together this Saturday at our house
with some of the other neighbors and their kids. You should come along and
bring Rocco! The kids will probably just play on the X-box or run around the
yard while we talk about some of the neighborhood stuff but it should be fun!”