Baby Daddy (8 page)

“Where did you get this information
?”  Harlan’s voice had definitely switched to attorney-mode.  A few seconds passed.  “I know you have a legal right to print the story, but . . .” I could hear his aggravation as he said, “Yes, but I’m just asking for you to sit on it until Tuesday.  I’ll give you an exclusive then...okay?” He listened for a minute, then clicked his phone off.  “Fuck,” he muttered.

I turned around in time to see him pocket his phone and square his shoulders before he spoke to us. 
“Something has come up that I need to deal with.  Christopher, why don’t you take everyone out to dinner tonight?  Anthony will pick everyone up tomorrow around eleven.  Breakfast at nine.  Any questions?”  No one answered, so he nodded to Christopher, gave us a tight smile and left.

“That was abrupt,” Reno commented.

“Must have been important,” Tulsa pointed out.

“Do you live here, too?” Liberty asked.  “I mean, in this house.  It’s big enough for several families.”

“No, at least not right now,” Christopher answered.  “I have a small house in Bee Cave, but I just sold it last week.  When Roger died, and my responsibilities with the agency doubled, I knew I needed to live closer to the office.  The buyers are closing on my place next week, so if I don’t find something between now and then, I guess I’ll be your housemate for a few weeks, if you guys don’t mind.”

We exchanged
looks and nods.  It didn’t really feel like our home yet, so how could we deny someone who belonged here more than any of us did?

“
Thanks.  I appreciate that.”  Christopher smiled and glanced at his watch.  “You guys are probably getting hungry.  Downtown rocks on Saturday nights.  Reno, you like magic.”  It was more of a statement than a question because as we all knew, Christopher had done his homework on us.  “There’s a cool place that has a decent magician as part of a comedy show.  I think y’all would enjoy it.  We could look around Sixth St. and eat an early dinner.  Why don’t we meet in the entry hall in about...say, thirty minutes?”

“Yeah, that sounds great,” Reno said with more enthusiasm tha
n I had seen him demonstrate.

Even Dallas looked enthused as we all nodded and walked out of the room.

I knew there was absolutely no dress code in Texas, but I wanted to look a little more put together than I did right now.  I combed out my hair, put on a little heavier coating of mascara, a touch of blue eye shadow and more lip gloss.  It was pretty hot out and probably wouldn’t get much cooler after the sun set, so I didn’t want to wear anything heavy like jeans.  I selected a short white skirt that I knew showed off my long, tanned legs and a black scoop-necked t-shirt with the slogan
This ain’t my first rodeo
printed on it in iridescent sequins.  I stepped into a pair of strappy sandals and I stopped for one last look in the mirror.  I was happy with the image that looked back at me.  Let’s see what Christopher thought about me when I was at the top of my game.

Dallas was just passing my door as I exited, so we walked downstairs together.  Everyone else was already there.

“I have a Mustang, so I can’t carry but one person with me,” Christopher said.

I was about to volunteer when Reno stepped forward.  “I want to hear more about that magician.”

WTF?  Two dudes in a Mustang?  That just wasn’t right.  I wanted to stick my foot out and trip Reno, but I knew that wouldn’t be cool.

“Roger has a Mercedes
G63 you can use.  Heck, it yours anyway,” Christopher said.  He took a set of keys off of a rack on the wall by the front door and held them up.

Tulsa and Dallas lunged forward at the same time, but she was a split second faster.  “That’s a sweet ride.  Over 500 horses under the hood.”

“Yeah and a $150,000 price tag,” Dallas grumbled.  “I’ve always wanted to drive one.”

“Maybe I’ll let you on the way back,” Tulsa taunted.

I shrugged.  Cars didn’t really impress me...except for Mustangs driven by hot guys.

The
silver Mercedes was parked under the portico, and we all piled into our respective vehicles.

“Follow me,” Christopher said.  “If we get separated, Dallas, you probably know
Sixth Street pretty well.  Let’s meet at The Jackalope.  It’s early enough that we should be able to get a table.”

“Got it,” Dallas confirmed.

I watched, with envy, as Reno climbed into the passenger seat of the shiny black Mustang Cobra convertible. To add insult to injury, I got stuck in the backseat of the Mercedes SUV.  Liberty sat next to me and looked around.

“Wow.  This is the nicest car I’ve ever been in,” she said.

As I settled onto the buttery-soft leather and looked at the dashboard with all its bells and whistles, I had to agree.  And I suspected I had been in a whole lot more cars than Liberty had.

Okay, so I wasn’t in the Mustang with super-hot boss guy.  The night was young, I looked good and I was going to work it
...while I still had it.

CHAPTER NINE

At no place in Austin was it more evident that the city was
The Live Music Capital of the World
than on Sixth Street.  We found a lot only a couple blocks away from the restaurant, and as we walked along, music of every variety and genre poured from each bar and restaurant we passed, making it sound like a sampler mix.  The weather was beautiful, dry and not uncomfortably warm, so many of the venues had removable or oversized windows that had been lifted to allow everyone on the sidewalk to get a view inside that would, hopefully, tempt them to come inside.

Some of the music was too bluesy or rappy for my taste, but several of the places had bands I would have hung around to hear. 
However, Christopher was leading us with a purpose, and the rest of us followed with blind obedience.

I was checking out a
guy wearing a cowboy hat and trying, very hard, to look the part, but his highly polished cowboy boots and too large buckle gave him away as a guy dressed up for show when Christopher suddenly stopped.  I plowed into him with the force of a slide into second and he caught me in one strong arm, keeping me from falling into the street.

Startled, I looked into his amused eyes, only inches away.  He nodded toward the other guy, “All ha
t, no cattle,” Christopher said, then released me.

I
recognized it as a snarky comment slamming the guy as being a wanna-be cowboy who had probably never even touched a cow, but it wasn’t any of Christopher’s business whether I was looking or not.  I knew a dozen snappy comments would come to me later, but at this moment, when I could have shown him how witty and cool I was, I had nothing.  He was laughing at me for being so clumsy.  Dammit, I wasn’t clumsy.  I was...oh, never mind.  It was too late for snappy.  Anything I said now would just sound lame.

“You got room for six?” Christopher turned and asked the scantily-dressed hostess.

She gave him a wink and reached out and picked a non-existent piece of lint off the front of his shirt, letting her fingers linger on his chest just a little too long.  “Sure thing, Honey.  I can always make room for you.”  She looped her arm through his and made sure her generous bosom was pressed against him as she led us past a giant fiberglass jack rabbit with antelope horns to a table in the back.

If she treated all her customers like this, her tips must be amazing.  Maybe I should try that routine if I have to
go back to Harry’s.  Nah...contrary to my current condition, I wasn’t a slut.

“I’ve never seen a rabbit with
horns before,” Liberty whispered to me as we passed a real rabbit head that had been mounted on a plaque with little spike antlers.

“
It’s a joke,” I whispered back. “People think it’s funny to put antlers or horns on a rabbit.”

“But why?” she asked with horror.  “Rabbits are such kind creatures.”

“Bottom of the food chain,” Tulsa commented, obviously having overheard us.

Liberty’s expression was stricken.  I hurried to distract her.  “He probably got hit by a car or something.”

She looked doubtful, but she nodded.  “I guess that could have happened.”

I nudged her forward and we sat in the
two remaining chairs that hadn’t already been claimed at our table.

“The pizzas are great here,” Dallas said.

“They’re really big, so I thought we’d order a couple and split them,” Christopher suggested.  “Liberty, they have several veggie sandwiches and salads, so pick what you want.”

Honey girl handed us all menus so we could check out the toppings and we finally settle
d on one of the Pulled Pork Pizzas and one with extra pepperoni and mushrooms called an Old Timer.  She quickly returned with our drinks, then went back to her station by the front door.  The place was filling up fast.

“How’d you like the G63?” Christopher asked which launched
a boring discussion about horsepower, speed, sound systems and alloy wheels.  Even Tulsa was caught up in it.

Liberty and I met each other’s eyes across the table, and we shrugged.  I could converse intelligently about hundreds of things, but anything on wheels wasn’t one of them.  I suspected her areas of interest were much more limited, but she probably knew more about how to raise a carrot or groom an alpaca than any of us ever would.

“How many people live on your commune?” I asked her.

“We call it The Farm and there are
six families and three unattached people who live alone.”

“You said your mother never
married, but . . .?” I was wondering if she had a father figure but didn’t know how to phrase it delicately without insulting her mother.

“She’s had a few men in her life since then, but there’s no one right now.”  Liberty smiled. 
“We live a very harmonious life.  Some of the couples are married and quite committed to each other.  Others, like my mother, believe all relationships weren’t meant to be long-term.  People come into our lives for different reasons, then move on.  It would be a loss to not let them in.”

In an odd way, I kind of understood that.  But I was still more of a long-term kind of girl.  I believed in the fairy tales my mom used to read to me.  I wanted a man who was strong enough to accept me as I am and to want to wrap me in his arms and protect me, but vulnerable enough to need me
in his life.  I had long ago accepted that those were fairy-tale heroes, not real-life guys who would actually show up on my doorstep.

It should have been
a clue that none of those dudes in fairy tales were named Brandon.  The only guy I knew named Prince was too short and lived too far north, coincidentally in the same city as Brandon’s family, so the field was definitely limited.

“We all share
ownership of about one hundred-sixty acres,” Liberty continued.  “All of us families have our own houses where we live and sleep.  There’s a central building where we cook and eat meals, as well as four bunkrooms for visitors or singles.  We share chores and either work in the fields or take care of the animals.”  Liberty smiled wistfully.  “Most of the animals belong to The Farm except for the alpacas.  They’re all mine.”

“Who’s taking care of them for you?”

“My mom.  She’s really good with animals.  They talk to her.”

“I heard somewhere that they hum.”

“Oh they do.  It sounds so cute, like they’re trying to harmonize,” Liberty said with a chuckle.  “But Mom says she can read their auras.”

Okay, now it was getting weird.  “Like the dog whisperer?”

“Who is that?” Liberty asked without recognition.

“You know, that guy on TV who talks to dogs
,” I explained.

“We don’t have television.  I’ve never actually seen one except when we go into town
and there are TVs in the stores.”

“Really, no television?”  Now it was my turn to be shocked.  How could a person live without watching TV?  “What do you do
for entertainment?”

“We read a lot, sew all our own clothes and we have sing-alongs.”

“Like Karaoke?” I asked.

“What’s that?”

I laughed.  “Another thing to add to your list of things to do.  But you and I are at a disadvantage.  Karaoke sounds much better when you’re drunk.”

“I’ve never been drunk,” Liberty admitted.  “We make some wine from our grapes and other fruit, but I only drink it on holidays.”

“Yeah, well I’ve been drunk, but I try not to drink over my limit.”

“
Why aren’t you drinking now?”

“Oh
...uh, I’m sort of still in training.  I have to work hard to get it out of my system, so I just avoid it,” I explained.  I glanced off to my right and saw that Christopher was looking at me.  He gave me that little half grin again, then turned back to Reno who was raving about Ducatis.

Our pizzas arrived right then and all conversation about vehicles stopped while we distributed plates and napkins.  Honey girl placed a veggie burger in front of Liberty
that even to me, a dedicated carnivore, looked pretty good.

“These are the biggest pizzas I’ve ever seen!” Tulsa exclaimed.

“Try one of these.” Christopher put a piece of the Pulled Pork Pizza on my plate even though I was reaching for the other kind.”

“I don’t know
…,” I started to protest.

“Trust me.  It’s good.”  He smiled, but this time
the smile actually touched his eyes and I knew he wasn’t laughing at me, but trying to be friendly.

“Thanks.”  I set my plate down and cut off a piece.  I had to eat it with a fork because there was so much pork and coleslaw on it.  I took the first bite tentatively, not expecting to like it, but the surprising mix of flavors was delicious.  I knew my surprise must have registered on my face because Christopher’s smile widened.  “Wow!” was all I could say as I cut off another piece and forked it into my mouth.

Between bites, the conversation bounced to more general topics, and both Liberty and I were able to contribute.  We laughed a lot, more than I would have expected from people who had been strangers a little more than twenty-four hours ago.  Luckily, all the anger we had toward Roger and his bizarre contribution to our lives didn’t melt over into our relationship with each other.  It actually served as a bond that was stronger than just blood.

Christopher paid the check and we waited for him outside on the sidewalk that had grown increasingly busier during our meal.  Weekends, even in summer were times to drink, party and cruise for hook-ups by the thousands of students that were either full-time residents or going to summer session.  While there was a wide range of ages, the majority of the people on the street were probably in the under-thirty range.

A small group of guys approached us and one stopped in front of me.  “Hey Blondie, what’s up?” he slurred.

If he hadn’t been drunk, I’d have been more flattered.  “Just hanging out with my family,” I said.

He draped his arm around my shoulder and tried to carve me out of the herd.  “Why don’t cha come with me?”

“
Time to go,” Christopher’s voice sounded over my shoulder.  He firmly removed drunk guy’s arm and replaced it with his own.

“Hey, I saw her first,” the guy stated
possessively, but without me for support, he almost fell over, considerably undermining his argument.

“
Technically, that’s not true,” Christopher pulled me along with him as he called back over his shoulder, “She’s with me.”  He continued to propel me forward and my half-siblings closed ranks behind us.

I had been struck speechless as soon as I felt his arm
around my back and his hand cup my shoulder.  He held me close as we made a path through the crowd for the others to follow.  At five-foot-ten, I was taller than a lot of guys, but I had to look up to try to read the expression on Christopher’s face.  Had he meant anything by what he said or was he just protecting me?  I honestly couldn’t tell, but I fit against his side perfectly and was in no hurry for him to let me go.

“I can’t let you out of my sight
for a minute, can I, darlin’?” Christopher whispered to me.

“What
do you mean?” I whispered back, trying not to be too excited about his casual term of endearment.

“You shouldn’t encourage random guys like that.”

“Excuse me?”  I shook off his arm.  “I’ve already got a father...two in fact...and I don’t need another one.”

“Hey, I’m just trying to keep you from making a big mistake.”

“Ha!  Too late for that!” I exclaimed.  “I mean, I can take care of myself.”

“Yeah, you were doing a fine job with that dude hanging all over you, slobbering in your ear.”

“Sort of like that waitress did to you,” I snapped back.

A slow grin stretched his lips.  “You noticed that, did you?”

I felt my cheeks redden.  I obviously couldn’t deny it.  And there was no way to defend it, so I remained silent.

“W
here are we headed?” Reno asked, stepping between us.  I had never been so glad to be interrupted.  I let Reno take my place and slowed down so that Liberty, Tulsa and Dallas could catch up to me.  We were far enough back that we couldn’t hear Reno and Christopher’s conversation, which was a good thing, since that meant they hadn’t heard mine either.  We trailed behind for several blocks until Christopher led us around a corner and up a ramp.  He stopped at the ticket window and purchased six tickets, then we were led to seats inside the small building. 

“What
is this place?” Tulsa said, looking around at the vintage decorations.  In front of us was a stage that ran the width of the room.  Outside, we could see people on Sixth Street passing by the large plate-glass windows.

“Esther’s Follies,” Christopher explained. 
“It’s got something for everyone...songs, humor, satire and . . .,” he smiled at Reno, “A magician.  Want something to drink?”

“I
’ll go with you,” Dallas offered.  They took our orders, then bumped over our legs getting out to the aisle.