Canceling my tennis game with Chipper to be safe, I was trying to be a grownup. Rather than get rewarded with a day with Poet, I end up alone while he spends time with Hayes and Chipper. With Candy working and Bianca Bella visiting her parents, I have no one to play with for the afternoon. Too restless to sit at home alone, I decide to check on my charge, Pickles.

Now pushing fifty, Richard Parness has lived on the streets since before I was born. He says living in the normal world with so many voices in his head proved to be impossible. He couldn’t handle the rules, expectations, and sanity of society. Now he lives happily on the fringes.

Like most afternoons, Pickles can be found under the St. Martin Bridge where he sets up his tent along with a few other free-livers.

After I wave down at Pickles and Shemp, I sit at a picnic bench in the park nearby. I know my charge won’t join me until he finishes his argument on the differences between American and Canadian bacon. Pickles doesn’t shift gears well, so I patiently sit and watch mothers push their little ones on the swings.

“You look different,” he says when he finally sits across from me.

“I’m pregnant.”

Scratching at his gray beard, he smiles. “Huh, I thought you changed your hair.”

“No. Just pregnant.”

“Did you buy sperm from one of them banks?”

“No, I slept with a guy a few months back. His name is Poet, and he lives in West Virginia. When I told him I was pregnant, he immediately drove here. He’s very sweet.”

“Sweet?”

“Also, sexy and prone to violence in bars. So, basically, he’s my type.”

Pickles stops checking behind him and worrying about threats long enough to say, “You’ll make a good mama. I can tell. I watch lots of people at the park, and I can tell who’s a shit parent and who isn’t. You have the right look.”

“Thank you,” I say and study his face. “Are you taking your cholesterol medicine and eating healthy?”

“What do you mean by healthy?”

“We do this every time,” I sigh. “Healthy means salads. They sell them for a buck or two at most fast food places.”

“Naw, I don’t want to eat like a rabbit, girl. I’m a man. I need to eat like one.”

“Don’t you want to live until you’re a hundred?” Pickles smiles at my bullshit but says nothing, so I continue, “Your card still has cash on it. Does your phone need minutes?”

“Who am I going to call?”

“What happened to Olivia?” I ask, remembering how shocked I was to learn that homeless people date.

“Too high maintenance.”

“Women are like that.”

“I got some gossip if you’re interested,” Pickles says, leaning closer. “I was over at Polliwog Park, playing chess on the boards they have set out.”

“I didn’t know you play chess.”

“I prefer checkers, but they don’t put those out ever since the teenagers pissed on them.”

“Teenagers are the worst.”

Pickles nods before continuing with his gossip, “I was there with Danny Boy Flynn. You know, the fucker who wears a tartan hat like he’s back in Scotland.”

“The one who calls me ‘Uptown Tits’?” I ask.

“Yeah, that’s Danny Boy. He and I saw a bald fella selling shit in little baggies. I made nice, pretending I wanted him to buy me booze. He said his name was Garbage. I warned him that people weren’t allowed to sell shit in White Horse. Garbage told me that he had a friend in the Brotherhood that kept him in the clear.”

Frowning, I think of the Serrated Brotherhood MC next door in Hickory Creek Township. Years ago, they established a pact with Hayes who runs White Horse and the slightly shitty town to the west, Common Bend. The rule was drugs, whores, and titty clubs stick to the Bend while White Horse remains clear of trouble. The Brotherhood having an asshole making deals on the side wouldn’t bode well for the longevity of our agreement.

“I’ll let Hayes know,” I say and hand Pickles twenty single dollar bills. “If you need anything, you call my number. If the police hassle you, have them call my number.”

“You worry too much. I’ve been on my own for longer than you’ve been alive.”

“Yes, I know, but my rich girl guilt forces me to be overprotective.”

“You’re an odd woman.”

“You have no idea,” I say, giving him a wink. “How’s Shemp? Does he need anything?”

“Naw, he’s got family that drops off food and blankets.”

“That’s nice. Everyone should have someone who cares about them.”

“Yes, they should,” he says and then cocks an eyebrow. “Are you nervous about being a mama?”

“Yes, but I have money, so it’s not as hard to have a kid as having one while poor.”

“I know you, kid. You’ll be hands-on. Money won’t change that.”

“I have six months to get ready. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“You look worried, though.”

“I have my first doctor’s appointment and ultrasound tomorrow. Maybe I’m nervous the doctor will find something weird.”

“Could be, but you should stop chewing on your lip like that. It’s a bad habit to get into. I knew a guy who nearly ate his entire face off.”

Grinning at his bullshit, I glance around the park and notice people watching us.

“I’ll bring Poet to see you some time. He’s really pretty.”

“I don’t swing that way, but I’d like to meet the man who made a baby with you. I want to see if he’s on the up-and-up.”

“Hayes is doing that right now.”

“Wonder if your man will come back in one piece?”

Frowning, I don’t want to even consider Hayes fucking up Poet. I mean, sure, yeah, my father is known to go ape-shit crazy at times, and he’s disappeared a few people over the years. But I’m sure Poet is safe. After all, Chipper is with them, and he tends to be the voice of reason. You know, except for when he’s not.

Crap, now I wish I had gone with them.

But then again, Poet and I could use a little time apart. Or should we spend all our time together? How do relationships actually work? I might want to search the internet to see what happens next.