Scrambled Babies (22 page)

Then Paeton wondered what it meant if he really had loved the same “dog” house.  Was he corny in the same way she was corny?  Why in god’s name would a true-blue jock buy a “little girl’s” house?  Because that’s what it was.  A house portraying a little girl lost in a fantasyland, trying to find her way home.  Rabbits carved on front doors.  Heart-shaped swimming pools.  Statues of Caterpillars and Mad Hatters and the Queen of Hearts.  Why on earth did he buy that house? 

But most upsetting was that Paeton found she liked him for it.  That is, if he bought it for reasons other than to spite her.  And that feeling made her doubly mad at him!  She had to admit there was no way he could have known she wanted the house—unless Thryce had told him!

There it was!  That disgusting weasel had blabbed the information that Paeton had made an offer on the house.  That is the only reason Steve, er, Kaselman would have bought it.  Fred was wrong.  Kaselman
was
getting back at her!

Then again, maybe she was wrong. When she thought about it, what reason did he have to prove anything to her? He had shown no interest in extending their relationship since they returned from Chicago. “Neighbors?” That’s all he had said. Maybe he loved the house too. Was that possible? He hadn’t displayed any deceitful side as yet. Was she punishing him just because he found the house too? But was the real culprit that snake Thryce?

Right now she had no answers for too many questions.  Her non-future with Steve Kaselman was looking increasingly like a very distasteful future currently compounded by the
In Your Face
article.  She knew Fred was correct in positing that Paeton and Steve must confront the outrageous allegations as a single, united force.

She had to get
In Your Face
and read the story for herself.  There was no way a sleazy publication was going to sink her ship.  If they thought because she was a romance writer she was all fluff and lavender, they were in for a big surprise!

She collapsed in a chair and stretched out her arms and legs to survey the parts of her body.  She felt as if she’d been shot full of holes, but didn’t know exactly where the bullets had entered.

#

Steve couldn’t stop shaking his head in disbelief!  There they were, all four of them.  The
In Your Face
headline tattled, “CELEBS KEPT SCRAMBLED BABIES A SECRET!”

Steve had bought the paper when he and Greta stopped at a supermarket on the way back to the hotel from the crazed-Paeton incident at the new house.  He had raced out of the store, forcing himself to wait to read the article in the privacy of his hotel suite.

Now he had it spread out before him on the table.  His eye twitched as he read the finger-wagging photo caption:  “Paeton McPhilomy and Steve Kaselman finally get back their own infants after scrambling the babies at JFK International, keeping them away from their natural parents for days!”

Steve felt at once sickened and furious.  He turned the page
.  Son of a bitch! 
There smiling dumbly at him was ponytail in a photo captioned “Eugene Small, Los Angeles cab driver, knew celebs’ secret!”  Small had tipped Black, and old Steedly had put it all together.  Steve continued reading the rest of the damning story.

Well, now it’s out, Paeton and Steve.  And both of you should be ashamed of yourselves!  You have some hard questions to answer to your fans!  First, how is it possible for such “splendid” parents not to know immediately that you had someone else’s baby?  Second, what kind of cancerous devastation, including psychological, emotional, spiritual, and sexual, will fester in the tiny hearts and minds of your children from this pernicious, unnatural experience?

This reporter caught them in the act of secretly unscrambling the babies so that no one would discover their contemptible behavior.  But now you, our loyal readers, and the rest of the caring world know the truth!

In Your Face
readers, I’ll bet you and this reporter will see some fancy footwork as they try to explain this one!  Let’s watch and see! 

And you can count on this dedicated reporter and this proud newspaper to bring you all details pertaining to this explosive story of celebrities who are so self-centered and career-orientated that they put their public images ahead of the spiritual and psychological well-being of their infant children.

Blindsided again!  That son-of-a-bitching Black was there after all!
  Steve threw the paper down, splaying it all over the floor
.  Damn!

“Steve?  You doing okay in there?” Greta called supportively from the balcony, where she had tactfully retreated while Steve read the article.

“Yeah.  I’m still breathing.”

“Sorry.”

He walked to the balcony door.  “Hey, it’s okay.  I’m—I don’t know what I’m doing.  I’ve never been in a spot like this before.”

“Well, you’ve got two people right here on your side.”  Ryan babbled his affirmation.  “Why don’t you call Maury?  He’ll know what to do.”

“Good idea.  Thanks.”  He turned away and approached the telephone.

Actually, his first impulse was to call Paeton and join forces.  But from the way she stormed away from him a few minutes ago, that option didn’t look too promising.  Besides, maybe she hadn’t read the article yet. 
Maury.  Right.  Call Maury.
  Steve needed to know what he should be doing pronto, and Maury would have some ideas.

Steve’s hand shook and his eye twitched unmercifully as he dialed.  The last time he felt like this was when his college football coach caught him breaking curfew with a female the night before the Rose Bowl game.

He heard the ring on the other end.  “This is Maury Cohen.  I’m either out of the office or on the phone.  Please—”

Steve hung up.  He wanted to talk to a live person
.  Come on, face it, you want to talk to Paeton. 
As a matter of fact, he wanted to do a lot things with Paeton.  Funny, he was more worried about her than himself.  Why was that when he knew he was at the top of her shit list? 

He went to the small hotel refrigerator and took out some brie cheese.  Okay, she could hang up on him.  That would be easy.  But could she slam the door in his face?  Face-to-face, if he shot out a quick, sincere apology—wait a minute!  What did he have to apologize for?  He had no idea she had made an offer on the same house
.  Oh, hell, apologize, Steve.  What do you care?  You can’t stand having her mad at you.

He returned the cheese to the refrigerator.  “Greta, I’m going out for a while.  Call me on my cell if anything comes up.”

“Okay, Steve.”  Greta left the balcony and moved toward him, balancing Ryan on her hip.  “But everything’s going to come up after that article.  Be ready.”

“No, I don’t mean that kind of anything.  I mean anything good!  Like, uh, Paeton calling me or anything.”

Greta gave Steve a smile of confidence.  “Don’t worry, Mr. Mom.  We’ll get through this.” 

“Thanks, Greta.  I know.  I know.  But right now I’m worried about paying for my new home.  If old Ollie decides to dump me because of this bad publicity, I could never afford that place.  That damn million dollars still hasn’t reached my account.”

Greta nodded in understanding.

“Well, I’m, uh, going out for some air.  Take a drive maybe.”  Steve started for the door.

“You don’t have to drive to Paeton’s.  An elevator will get you there.”

He felt himself reddening.  “How did you know?”

Greta laughed quietly.  “I know I recently came on the scene, but five minutes of watching you two today made it clear you’re not upset only about buying her house.”

“That obvious, huh?”

“We always want what we think we can’t have.”

“What makes you think I want her?  And what makes you think I can’t have her, if I did want her?”

“I was there, remember?”  And she laughed again, this time prompting a squeal of delight from Ryan.

“Oh, right.  Of course.”

“Yeah.  I’ve seen angry, and I’ve seen angry, but that was—whew!”

“I know.  I’m surprised the sidewalk didn’t burn up behind her.  I didn’t know that was her house too!  That son of a bitch Thryce!  Why didn’t he say something?  But there’s the fact that I love the crazy place too.  I don’t want to give it up.  There’s got to be something else on the market that Paeton could love.  But she’s stubborn!  She’s strong.”  Steve conjured up an image of Paeton.  “She’s gorgeous!”

“She is that.  Of course, you only attract the gorgeous kind.” 

Greta, a great athlete, but not a great beauty herself, was also a victim of Steve Kaselman’s eyes.  After her career in track and field, she had gone into sports therapy where she met Steve after his knee injury.  She never had any illusions about being more than a physical therapist to him.  When Steve got the unexpected custody of Ryan, she had responded enthusiastically to his request for her as a nanny, figuring that was as close as she would ever get to being with Steve full-time.

“Yeah, but she’s gorgeous in spirit too.  I can’t quite believe she doesn’t have any interest in me.  Christ, I’m available.  I’m not—not ugly, for god’s sake.  A few too many pounds here and there.  But there have been those moments between us.  I know she was aware of them too.  But now she’s so damn mad.  And right when we need each other against the goddam
In Your Face
and old pencil-mustache!”

“Well, go knock on her door.  Maybe she’ll let you in.”

“Right.  I have to give it a shot anyway. Plays hurt.  That’s me.  And god knows I’m hurting right now!  See you later, Greta.”

He nuzzled Ryan and gave him a kiss.  “Be back in a while, tiger.  Nice to have you back.  But I’ll bet it wasn’t so awful being with Paeton McPhilomy, now was it?  She can peel back my diapers any day.”

“Get out of here.  Are you trying to make my face red?”

“Later, Greta.”

Steve walked out the door and down the hallway to the elevator.  But instead of riding up to the eighth floor, he took a quick trip down to the hotel cafe.  Some bagels and cream cheese might act as an icebreaker and a peace offering.  Besides, he hadn’t had any breakfast.  Then he would take the dreaded trip to the eighth floor to confront Paeton McPhilomy.

Ten minutes later he stood outside her door, a bag of goodies in one hand, his other hand poised to knock. 
Oh, well, what have I got to lose?

Knock!  Knock!

Chapter 9

“Mommy, I’m tired of living in a hotel.  Can we get another rabbit house?”  Madison was whining.

Paeton had finished the damning article.  The unreality was overwhelming.  In her wildest imaginings, she never could have believed she could achieve such national infamy.