CHRIS
That felt good… too good. I like this girl. She’s funny and sweet. Still not giving her my balls, but I can’t deny hanging out with her is something I’d like to do more of. Knowing she just got divorced, and what she shared about just getting out of another relationship, I doubt she’s thinking about dating anyway. Fucking perfect. No need for awkward conversations about where this is going or what we’re doing. I have a feeling that when I explain to her my take on relationships, she might be okay with it.
I can’t believe I told Liz about Shayla and her bullshit; that meeting with Larry really threw me off. I got up early, dropped MJ off at school, and made it to his office forty-five minutes before our scheduled meeting. I’d been so nervous that I barely slept last night, and I was really anxious to talk to him. This asshole was so frazzled when I told him who Shayla’s father was, he asked me to sit in the lobby then left me there for a fucking hour. Even after he called me back into his office with his bullshit apology claiming he had an emergency, he wasn’t much help. The only advice I got from Larry was to begin collecting receipts and documents proving my role as caregiver for MJ. Yeah, well, I’ll be collecting information on getting a new lawyer as well. If this is how he handles my dad’s legal matters, then Dad needs to get a new lawyer too.
“Daddy!” MJ yells.
“Hey, Frog,” I say.
MJ runs from his place in line and jumps into my arms.
“Ribbit,” he croaks, and I laugh.
“Hi, Mr. Preston,” Pauline, MJ’s teacher, greets me, smiling. “MJ had a great day.”
“Good,” I say, “were y’all going to the play yard?”
“No, we’re just headed for a bathroom break. His daily report is in his cubby, along with today’s art project. See you tomorrow, MJ,” she says and gives him a wink.
“Bye,” MJ says, and waves as his teacher and classmates walk pass in the hallway.
“Are we going home now, Daddy?” MJ asks as he slides into his coat and hat.
“Yep, unless you want to stop by the bug store for dinner?”
“The bug store?”
“I saw today that they have a sale on flies and crickets.”
MJ wrinkles his little brow. “FLIES FOR DINNER?!” he exclaims.
“Well. You are a frog, so it’s only right I feed you the right things. How does hot cricket soup and fried fly on toast sound?” I say, licking my lips and rubbing my belly.
“Ewww. No, that’s gross,” he mock gags and doubles over.
“Haha,” I laugh, throw him over my shoulder, and head to the car.
I don’t know how I survived eighteen years without knowing this kid, I love his antics.
After we get home, we fall into our usual routine. MJ goes to play in his playroom while I start dinner. Our duplex has a shotgun style layout, with a large open floor plan. The hardwood floors from the living room flow past the eat-in-kitchen. Behind the kitchen is a family room, but now it’s MJ’s designated toy room. Upstairs is a loft and three additional bedrooms. When Shayla lived here with us, we kept all of MJ’s toys in his bedroom, but the older he got, the bigger the toys seem to get. Plus, after a while, it didn’t matter how well his toys were put away, they would somehow find their way off the shelf and into his hands after dark. That’s when I made the decision to remove most of his toys from his bedroom.
We sit down for dinner, me in my jeans and t-shirt, and MJ in a Thor costume, complete with cape and helmet. Typical MJ, I’ve shared meals with three members of the Avengers and two Power Rangers already this week.
“So, what? Should I call you Super Frog now?” I smile, nudging MJ.
“Nope,” he says, shoving in a mouthful of noodles.
Swallowing, he leans close and whispers, “Even frogs have secret lives, Daddy.”
I laugh. He truly is the best part of me. After dinner, we clean up, read a few books, and watch a few cartoons, then it’s bath and bed.
MJ is sound asleep by the time I start packing our bags for the weekend. I’ve been worked up all week about Shayla and her shit that I’m really looking forward to seeing the guys. Nard said he’d call me if we weren’t working again, but I haven’t heard anything. I reach down and grab a few pairs of pajamas and socks from MJ’s drawer, being careful not to make any noises that would wake him. I love my job, I always have; I’m good at it, and I make a lot of money—easy money. My job will probably come up if Shayla and I end up in court, and that could be a problem. I bend over and grab a pair of shoes, throw them in the bag, and then open another drawer and begin piecing together outfits. My mind begins to race thinking about everything Shayla and her father can hold against me. I never really had to worry about it before, but the fact that I have no idea what she’s planning has me shook.
Shortly after we’re both packed for tomorrow and the house is cleaned, I retire to my bedroom. I probably just need some sleep. I know for a fact that she would never do anything that would make her hold any real responsibility for MJ; she’s all about partying and shopping. The worst that can happen is if she tries to sue me or something. I need to get a fucking grip. Reaching into the shower, I turn the nozzle to piping hot then step inside. The body jets feel amazing on the knots in my shoulders, and the rain head soothes me, but even after twenty minutes of heated bliss, I can’t kick the worry. Maybe I need to beat Shayla to the punch before she can call me out on my flaws.
My phone rings the second I step out of the shower, and I answer it without seeing who’s calling.
“Hello,” I say.
“Aye, man,” Nard says.
“Hey.”
“How’s lil’ man?” he says.
“Asleep, I just packed him to go with his mom for the weekend. Are we working?”
“Uh, kind of. Our place still is a no go, but Ty was asking if we wanted to do a private bachelorette party with him tomorrow, make some quick cash,” he says.
A pang of annoyance pulls at my nerves. I was really hoping to get lost in the chaos of work for the next few days; it’s just what I fucking need right now.
“Shit, I guess some work is better than nothing,” I say and push through the bathroom door into my bedroom.
“Yeah, okay, I’ll tell him your game.”
“Oh shit,” he continues. “You know Ashlee, the girl I met the night we went to The Lounge?”
“Yeah,” I say, as I grab a pair of boxers and a tank from my closet.
Red’s face comes to mind, and it makes me smile.
“She slept over last night, and we were up pretty late, so we slept in. I guess Rita decided on this grand fucking gesture this morning, so she bursts into the room crying and pouring her heart out. Ashlee and I were butt naked.”
My jaw hits the floor, and then the all-consuming laughter begins.
“No. You’re kidding!” I say, barely getting it out.
“Rita told Ashlee she needed to leave, and fuck, man… it was horrible.”
I listen to his tale of two women, which turns into an all-out catfight, with him ending up carrying both women out and putting them in Ubers.
Only Nard.
I can’t say this happens to him a lot, but Nard loves his women in a frequent variety. This means when a girl does a pop in, shit will immediately get awkward because he’s rarely alone.
"I don’t know what to do about Rita. Chris, I swear she’s driving me fucking crazy. One minute she breaks up with me, the next minute she’s dragging the girl I’m fucking around the room by her hair. Chick is unstable,” Nard sighs.
“Well, you like the little feisty ones,” I chuckle.
“Yeah. That’s true,” he laughs. “She stood there carrying on about doing the right thing by me and how important I was to her.”
He continues for a while longer, and I try hard to empathize with him, but in my head, I’m screaming I told you so. A few minutes later, I’m off the phone and on my bed. I look over at the two well-packed overnight bags at the door then again at the ceiling. Doing the right thing isn’t always the easiest task; usually, it’s the most uncomfortable option in most situations. Like with Rita, she had to know Nard had a girl in his room. She and Haley are attached at the hip. She’s there more than I am, but still, she carried her crazy ass in his room.
Could I do that? Am I the type of guy who would walk into a room with his dick tucked between his legs for the greater good? Fuck, am I even doing the right thing by MJ?
I’d like to think so, that kid is my life.
I look back over at the overnight bags.
Fuck. I grab my phone and hit the call button.
“Aye Nard, it’s me again,” I say.
“After tomorrow, I quit.”