Simple Man (11 page)

“Be my guest,” he called her bluff.

She scowled at him. Suddenly Logan began to cry. He stood. “Are we done?”

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to stick around for a little while and observe.”

He did mind, but he couldn’t force her to leave. Why couldn’t he have been assigned to someone like Joanne or Haughenschlaugger? They liked him.

He turned and went to get Logan.

“Hey, big guy.” He reached down and scooped him up. He was already becoming more comfortable with holding him.

Logan immediately began to settle once in his arms. Shane carried him to the living room and sat him in his car seat while he heated up a bottle he’d had on the ready from that morning.

“Aren’t you going to latch that?”

Shane stilled. “I’m coming right back.”

“It only takes a moment for a baby to get injured, Mr. Martin.”

He scowled at her. She was really starting to piss him off. “Maybe you weren’t aware, but Logan’s two months old. At his age, he’s just learning to hold up his head. I think catapulting out of car seats is a little advanced for him—even if he is at the top of his class.”

“Do you think you’re funny, Mr. Martin?”

What. A. Bitch.

He gave up. Sighing, he went to the car seat and removed Logan. Collecting the bottle, he sat on the sofa and proceeded to feed him. Mentally, he asked his nephew, if he had to puke to please project it in the bitch’s direction. Logan blinked and Shane took that as confirmation he understood the plan.

Her gaze weighed on him. How much longer would she be there?

“Did you get a new car, Mr. Martin?”

“What?”

“Your truck, it’s gone.”

“Oh, no, I just traded with a friend for a day or two.”

“Perhaps you’ll consider purchasing a vehicle with a higher child safety rating.”

Did this woman have an off switch? Like he hadn’t already considered that. Unfortunately, the money tree was dead, so he had no fucking clue how that would ever happen. “I’ll consider it.”

“I’m sure on your salary, what with your gigs and all, you could afford it.”

His gaze jerked to hers. That was it. “Are you new?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Are you new? I was wondering if we were maybe your first case or if your social skills were just this bad all the time. If it’s a disability of some sort I’d be willing to overlook it, but if it’s something personal you have against me, maybe I should ask to be reassigned.”

She stiffened. “I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way. You get who you get.”

“So I guess at social work school they don’t really teach a social graces class.”

“Mr. Martin, I’m sorry you find my presence so insufferable, but truth be told your feelings are not my concern. I’m only concerned with the well being of that little boy.”

“Well, this little boy’s well being is just fine. He’s usually rather pleasant when he isn’t being hassled by stuck up harpies.”

She jumped to her feet. Her mouth opened and closed. He was done being intimidated by this shrew. “I’ll be talking to my supervisor about this.” She marched angrily to the door.

“Go right ahead. Be sure to tell her that you don’t like babies.”

She stilled and turned on him, her eyes furious. “I love babies! It’s you I can’t tolerate. Good day!” She left the trailer and let the screen door slam behind her.

“Shit.” This wouldn’t end well. Gritting his teeth, he went after her.

Chapter Seven

Shane popped the bottle out of Logan’s mouth and stuck it on the table before he followed her outside. She was sitting behind the wheel of her little lime green bug, looking overly frustrated. Incidentally, she looked cute when she was knocked off her high horse. He held Logan to his shoulder and knocked on the driver’s window.

She ignored him, obviously aware of his presence, so he knocked again. Her lips formed a thin line as the window lowered. “What?”

Shane patted Logan’s back. If the kid wound up going through with their puke on the caseworker plan, things would only get worse. “I’m sorry. That was rude of me to talk to you like that.”

Her chin quivered. She still wouldn’t look at him. Fuck, was she crying? “Are you crying?”

“No!” she barked then sniffled.

Shit, he really fucked up. “Look, I’m apologizing. Please come back inside.”

“No, thank you.”

“I didn’t mean what I said.”

She turned on him. “Didn’t you?” Her eyes were red and glassy. Definitely crying.

“No, of course not. I just—”

His truck came barreling in at that moment, cutting off his words. He faced Logan away from the dust and she took advantage of the interruption to pull out. Shit!

Duce jumped out of the truck and looked after her. “That the social worker snob?”

“Not anymore. I made her cry.”

His friend’s eyes bulged. “Dude, you made your caseworker cry? Why?”

“Because I’m an idiot.”

Logan took that moment to belch, which Shane interpreted as complete agreement. Great.

Later that night after Duce left, Shane put Logan to bed and pulled out the food stamps information. He’d always put down people on government assistance programs, believing he was better than that. But tonight, after looking into Logan’s eyes and fearing there might come a time when he couldn’t put food in his belly…well, that was much more intolerable than his wounded pride.

When he realized he could get between two hundred and four hundred dollars a month in food vouchers, he called himself an idiot for sticking up his nose at such a program. He decided to apply, but he’d be filing out the paperwork himself. No way would he willingly let Little Miss Fancy Shoes know he was that tight on money.

By midnight he had all the forms filled out and was ready to pass out. He heated up a bottle and quietly lifted Logan out of his crib. This was part of the building a routine thing Dr. Haughenschlaugger suggested.

He barely woke up, but drank at least four ounces. Shane softly worked a burp out of him and laid him back in his Autobot crib then fell into bed. He was completely wiped out, the past few days seemingly catching up to him all at once. How would he ever manage all this and working at the same time?

On Friday, Shane and Logan borrowed the roller skate again and went to visit daycares. “One day we’ll be looking at colleges for you too, if you’re anything like your mother,” he informed a gurgling Logan. “She was real smart.”

They first visited one place that was okay. It was pricy.
Really
pricy. For the cost, Shane wasn’t very impressed. However, as they worked their way through the list he became more and more discouraged. They returned to the first place, Kiddie Academy, and requested the enrollment paperwork. Logan would start there on Monday.

“Now, make sure you don’t let the kids who’ve been there longer push you around. You don’t take any lip from anybody. And I don’t want to hear about you being distracted from your studies by any pretty girls, you hear?”

Logan farted…possibly more than a fart.

Shane scrunched up his face as he pulled into Sunny Acres. “You keep that up and you won’t have any problems keeping the bullies
and
the girls away.”

The following Friday night the guys came over as usual, but Tucker was coughing and Shane asked him to leave.

“You’re kicking me out?” Tucker asked, shocked.

“You’re coughing. I don’t want Logan getting sick.”

“But I’m not sick,” Tucker argued.

Sims chimed in from the floor where he was playing the game station. “Lisa was sick. You had your tongue in her mouth. You’re probably a carrier of whatever funk she had.”

Duce held his cheesesteak mid-air and froze, hypochondriac at full alert. “You better go.”

“Shut up, Duce.”

Shane stood his ground. “Seriously, Tucker, Logan can’t get sick. Dr. Haughenschlaugger said—”

“Wait,” he laughed. “Doctor who? Hasphenpepper?”

“Haughenschlaugger.” They all cracked up, but Shane was being serious. “I’m serious. You need to go.”

The mood chilled. Tucker was insulted. “Whatever, dude. You act like I have the plague.” He grabbed his keys and left.

“He’s pissed,” Duce commented, spraying crumbs over the table.

“Use a napkin,” Shane snapped. “I just vacuumed.”

Sims kept his eye on the television, but didn’t miss a beat. “Uh, Shane, how long do you plan on being on the rag? Because you’re sort of a buzz kill like this.”

Shane stiffened. “You can leave too. I’m sorry if I don’t feel like dealing with a bunch of bullshit tonight like I have every Friday night for the past decade.”

Sims paused the game and stared at him. “Are you serious right now?”

Defensively, he glared back. “What? I can’t have boundaries? You guys come over here every week, trash the place, use my game station, drink my beer—”

“We come here because you invite us!” Sims snapped.

“Well, I need to consider Logan now.”

“You sound like a woman.”

“
You
sound like a woman all the time. Get over it.”

Logan’s cry filtered from the bedroom. Shane stood. “Great, you woke the baby.”

He switched on the lamp in the bedroom and went to the crib. Logan cried softly, but quieted the moment he saw Shane. “Hey, bud. Did we wake you?”

He stilled, staring up at Shane as though considering his question. His head slightly raised then dropped onto his
ROCK STAR
sheet as he cooed. Shane laughed and scooped him up.

“You wanted to come hang out, didn’t you?”

He stepped back into the living room and Duce sat at the table. Sims was gone.

“He leave?” He should probably feel guilty for being a dick, which he sort of did, but he needed to establish some ground rules now that Logan was living with him.

“Nah, he just went out to smoke.”

Well, that was an improvement. At least Sims knew he couldn’t light a cigarette inside the trailer with the baby there. The door snapped open and shut as Sims stepped in smelling like second hand smoke. “Sorry, man,” he said.

“Me too,” Shane mumbled. They didn’t need to hug it out, but Sims, always the sensitive one, gave him a pat on the back anyway.

“Hey, big guy,” he said, greeting Logan.

Logan babbled out the funniest stream of syllables and they all laughed. As if this were the norm, Sims settled back into his game, Duce plopped on the couch and absentmindedly flipped a rattle in his hand, and Shane spread a blanket on the floor to change Logan’s diaper.

Tucker should have been there too, but not if he was sick. Logan arched and kicked like a cricket as Shane undid his diaper. Once he was all fresh, Shane turned him on his tummy.

Duce laughed, observing from the couch. “What’s that, his army crawl?”

“This is his work out. Baby push ups,” Shane joked.

Logan worked to lift his head, straining to see where the voices were coming from. It looked incredibly draining for the little guy. They all made moaning sound effects as if they were doing the work too.

Shane dropped his chest to the carpet and rested his chin on his arms, watching. When Logan’s bright blue eyes met his, he gave a gummy smile. He smiled back. Shane had been doing that a lot lately, smiling. Logan did that to him. He liked having him around.

* * * *

Sunday, Shane, Logan and Sims drove over to Clayton to visit a used car dealership. When they pulled up Logan was babbling away so Shane decided to carry him rather than lug the car seat around the lot.

“Can I help you find something, gentleman?”

They turned to find the quintessential car salesman waiting for the kill. Ten bucks said his name was either Eric or Carl. He had an oiled appearance and likely a case of Napoleon syndrome.

“We’re just looking right now,” Sims said.

The salesman’s gaze fell on Logan then back to him and Sims. “Well, my name’s Carl if you have any questions.” Bingo. Car and suit salesmen always had the same names. It was sort of like how if someone named a kid Barry he had an eighty percent chance of becoming a dentist or doctor. He wondered what Logan’s usually became.

They walked around the lot and Carl stayed to the shadows doing that creepy salesman slinking stalker thing. The selection was disappointing. After they made a full circuit of the lot, Carl reappeared. He reminded Shane of an eel.

“Were you looking to trade in that Celica?”

“The DeLorean?” Sims whispered, offended for his car. “Back off,” he hissed under his breath.

“Uh, no. I have a truck I’m thinking about trading,” Shane said, giving Sims a calm down look. It was a shame Sims didn’t have a cooler car. He
so
wanted some nerd trophy to drive.

“What kind of truck is it?”

“Ninety-five Chevy S10.”

“How many miles?”

“A hundred and eighty thousand.”

Carl whistled through his teeth and Shane swore he might have seen a forked tongue slither out. “Not gonna get much for a truck like that with that many miles. How’s your credit?”

Shot. When he was younger he hadn’t realized how badly he was fucking up his future when he let the bank take his parents’ house. He was a kid. How was he supposed to know that shit stuck to you like a rash?

“Not so great.”

“Well, we have a program here that helps people with low credit scores get loans. If you bring the truck in we could give you a price on it and go from there.”

Shane knew that was what he’d end up doing. He’d likely be financing a piece of shit for three times its worth and losing his nuts in the process on interest and everything else. But he didn’t really have any other options. He needed a safe car for Logan. Bumming rides wouldn’t cut it forever. He just hoped he got a fair deal on the S10.

They rode home and Sims petted his car’s dash for a good part of the way. Logan fell asleep just before they pulled in.

“Whose car’s that?”

Great. The green bug sat beside his truck. Sims shut off the DeLorean and they watched as Katherine McAlister got out. Sims jaw dropped.

“Who is she?”