The Fix (Carolina Connections #1) Read online

  After watching the game with my dad this past weekend, I had moved a couch and a few other old furnishings from their basement to the apartment. I figured it was enough to tide me over until I found a new place and could get my things from Austin moved permanently. Hopefully once things calmed down a bit, I’d have time to search for a better place. This one was kind of a shithole, but it was cheap. And for the moment I was content with borrowed furniture, beer and TV.

  Halfway into my IPA and an episode of Ice Road Truckers my cell phone rang. I glanced at the screen.

  Shit. Reagan.

  I muted the TV and answered the call, “Hey Reagan, what’s up?”

  “Nate! Oh my God, it’s so good to hear your voice!”

  “Yeah, you too. What are you up to? How are things back in Hippie Haven?”

  “They suck without you, Nate. I miss you.”

  And that right there was what I’d been afraid of. It was the reason I’d avoided her calls for the past week, although I kept promising myself I’d call back when things lightened up. Reagan was a really nice girl. Honestly. The problem was that she didn’t seem to feel quite the same about me. I suspected she didn’t just think I was a nice guy – she thought I was the guy. And, although she was nice and pretty hot, she was definitely not the girl. Who even knew if any such girl was out there, but I knew for sure that Reagan was not it.

  We had met at a bar a few months before I’d moved away and had been casually seeing each other since, casual being the key word. I was very upfront with her because the last thing any guy wants is girl drama. But then I started noticing some big fucking red flags. She left some of her things at my apartment and when I mentioned them she tried to laugh it off. And then I heard one of her friends ask about her boyfriend and at first I thought, oh shit, is some guy gonna jump me for banging his girl? Until I realized they had been talking about me. I tried to back off and I even sat her down for a conversation about it, but nothing stuck. I’d been planning to break the whole thing off completely but then my dad’s heart attack hit and all hell broke loose.

  “Aw, that’s sweet.” I didn’t know how the hell else to respond. “Oh hey, I’ve been meaning to thank you for sending those boxes. You really didn’t have to go to all that trouble.” She had evidently shown up at my place while my buddies were packing up my shit. She implied to them that I’d asked her to send some of my clothes and personal items and she packed up a few boxes and sent them my way. It was definitely nice to have some of my own stuff, no doubt, but the way in which I’d received it signaled nothing but trouble.

  “Of course! I knew you’d want some of your things and I wanted to do something to feel like I was helping out. How is your dad?”

  See? Really nice girl.

  “He’s doing a lot better, thanks.”

  “Oh good. So, listen, I was calling cuz I really wanted to hear your voice, but also because I was thinking of coming out to see you…”

  Christ on a bike, there it was.

  “Oh, Reagan, wow.” Why didn’t I break things off before I left? “Uh, that’s really nice of you to think of me. The thing is…work is really crazy right now.” Just tell her the truth, asshole! “I mean, I’m working all sorts of late hours and between that and checking on my folks…I don’t think now is the best time,” I finished lamely like the big fucking coward I am.

  “Oh. Sure, I mean, I understand. It’s just, you know, I was thinking I could maybe combine it with a trip to the beach too – you know, soak in some rays before the summer is completely over and all that,” she tried again.

  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.

  Chapter Five

  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!”

  Victory! My weekend playdate!

  “That sounds great!” I said and we exchanged phone numbers before she and Aiden went off with a wave.

  “Soooo,” I said, entering the bathroom where a very naked Rocco was splashing in the tub. “Guess who just scored you a playdate with some cool neighborhood kids and an X-box?” I crowed. “Me! That’s who.” I may have tried out a couple of my cool dance moves too. Why hadn’t I ever taken a hip hop class?

  “Just, no,” Gavin said from his perch on the closed toilet seat.

  I loved most everything about my little house, but even I had to admit the hall bathroom was a bit small. It had a tub/shower combo, a toilet, and a tiny pedestal sink. Unfortunately, both the toilet and the sink were pink. I’m a girl and even I was slightly offended.

  “What’s an X-box?” Rocco’s dark head tilted back and his face got scrunchy.

  “Trust me, kid. You want to play X-box,” said Gavin. “It’s an electronic game you can play with other kids. It’s awesome – and you can usually kill stuff.” Hopefully they wouldn’t be playing those games – although since it was Aiden’s game…yeah.

  “What kids?” Rocco still didn’t look sold on the idea. And there was the nose twitch again.