Accidental Makeovers Read online

  “Eric is working on getting everything ready, and a contract drawn up. I should be able to meet with him towards the end of the week and start on Monday.”

  “Excellent. I’ve already got an ad out for extra help to replace you.”

  “I’m sorry, Mom. I can still work the events we have scheduled if you need me. Like the wedding reception on Saturday afternoon.”

  “Okay, but it’s not necessary. I want you to focus full time on this new adventure. I am so excited for you.”

  I smile, but my mother can always tell when I’m troubled.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s just…Mick. I’m glad Max is gone. I’ll miss him occasionally because I’m used to him, but if I can stay away long enough this time, I’ll get over the hump and move on. But I am worried about my son. He asks for him, and I can’t tell him Daddy is away playing the drums forever. He will get to see him, but I can’t explain this new arrangement to a toddler.”

  “Kids are resilient. He’ll get used to it, and it will become the new normal. You’ll see.”

  “I hope you’re right. Oh, I hear him. He must be up from his nap.”

  Mick comes toddling out with sleepy eyes and bedhead hair. His red tresses are matted down on one side and he’s walking rather unsteadily. I look at his feet and I see why.

  Foreign, hot wetness assaults my eyes as I stare at my little boy’s baby feet…encased in his dad’s old work shoes.

  “Mama, see Dada. Dada soos.”

  “Yes, Sweetie, those are Daddy’s shoes.”

  I pull Mick onto my lap and hide my face in his messy hair.

  Max

  “You know, I’m not on waitress duty right now. You can get your own beer.” Diamond kicks my feet off her fancy white coffee table and puts her hands on her hips.

  “Sorry, Sparkles, I figured you were up.”

  Sparkles is my new pet name for Diamond. She seems to like it more than Bianca likes ‘Birdie,’ but I’ve only been hanging out here for a day. I’m officially crashing at Rob’s place, which is my old studio apartment.

  Contrary to Bianca’s past complaining about it, it’s not that bad. But since Rob spends so much time over here at Diamond’s house, I’ll get the place all to myself most of the time.

  The problem is that the food and clean dishes are also at Diamond’s house, and a bunch of frou-frou stuff even worse than Sharon’s crap. I don’t know how the kid doesn’t destroy all this white and pink furniture. I guess little girls are neater.

  Diamond shakes her head and pouts. “It’s okay, Max. I know you’re hurting.”

  She puts her little hand over her heart. Well, really over her enormous boob, but there is a heart under there somewhere. I think about asking to listen for it, but Rob will kick my ass and then I’ll be living out of a tent down by the river.

  Of course, I could get my own place, but nah…this thing with Birdie will blow over. It always does.

  “I’m okay. I miss Mick more than anything. She needs to call me back to arrange for me to see my kid. But more of your lasagna would help my emotional state.”

  I pick up my plate and hand it to Diamond. I insisted upon dropping Rob off after work, and I graciously accepted the little blond hostess’ kind dinner invitation.

  I’ll have to make myself scarce soon because the kid is at her dad’s house, so these two will be going at it soon. Maybe I can keep playing my video game and they won’t notice. It’s a big house.

  Diamond sighs and takes the plate, turning to address Rob. “Pumpkin, do you want more?”

  She bats her eyelashes and I marvel at how this girl can make household chores so sexy.

  Rob glares at me, challenging me to comment on his pet name. I try not to laugh.

  He’s bald like a pumpkin, but not as orange.

  “What are you laughing at, asshole?” He changes his expression as he answers Diamond. “Sure, Sugar. You know how to keep a man happy.”

  She saunters and off and Rob says, “What? You know what your problem is? You don’t know how to keep a woman happy. Diamond has no problem taking care of me because I know how to take care of her. You and Bianca make everything too complicated.”

  “You’re saying I don’t know how to please a woman? That’s some shit right there. And I would like to see you try to please Bianca. She doesn’t care so much about sex. She’s a lot more complicated than that…all I’m sayin’ is that it’s not that simple for me.”

  “Nice recovery there. I know you were getting ready to call Diamond a whore or something equally offensive.”

  He puts up his hands as I move to counter his accusation, which is totally correct, by the way.

  “No worries. That’s what you don’t get. She’s my whore.”

  And Bianca wonders why I’m so screwed up. Between my old man and my big brother, this is the view of women I have learned. But as I watch Diamond walk back into the room with two plates of lasagna, two perfectly presented boobs, and two sets of adoring eyes and pouty lips, I would say Rob is on to something.

  “Is he talking nonsense again?” She kisses Rob, with tongue, and places his food on the pink placemat.

  I look at her with wide eyes. “You heard that?”

  If she was Bianca, I would be running to find something to protect my balls.

  She laughs and touches her sleek, blond hair. “Only the tail end.”

  That was the worst part.

  “Rob is just being funny, Max. And he’s right. Maybe you’re not appealing to Bianca’s feminine side. I can see she’s a wild one. You should be able to distract her, you’ve got most of your brother’s charms.” She blows Rob a kiss.

  Normally, this would make me want to barf, but what she’s oozing is hard to ignore. Jeez, this isn’t helping at all. Suddenly, it’s not lasagna I want.

  Bianca’s feminine side. I think back to some of the wild times we had in the beginning, before Mick was born. She is feisty, and maybe I have neglected her.

  Diamond is right. I need to ignore the crap and just bang Bianca’s brains out.

  And I could take her to look at apartments. Even houses. I have plenty of money in the bank. The Harley down payment and the drums barely put a dent in my savings. Yep, I’ll ask Claire if her sister can recommend a good real estate guy down here.

  “Okay, if you boys have everything you need, I’m going to take my bubble bath. You’ll be up in a little while, Pumpkin?”

  I have a feeling Pumpkin is up already. Shit, this woman is unbelievable.

  And Brandon resisted this? Claire should never give him grief one day in his life.

  Rob nods and Diamond sashays off to the staircase. “Oh, and Max? If you don’t follow my advice, some other guy will break down her tough façade. And that’s what it is. All women want to feel special.”

  I throw the controller on the floor. Special.

  I have been such a moron. Diamond isn’t giving Rob shit about where he lives because she already has a man supporting her—her ex-husband. Between that jerk and Rob, she has everything she needs. She can enjoy her little waitressing job for attention and extra spending cash.

  Bianca tries to act all independent, but she’s been harping at me to find us a place to live on our own for a long time now. She’s practically begging me to be the man and take care of her, and I’ve missed the signals. She’s like Ma and Diamond deep down. I need to be more like the other Buczkowski men and deliver all the goods. Maybe Pop isn’t as bad as I thought.

  After all, he’s getting fed in his own house.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Bianca

  It’s only Thursday, so I shouldn’t be concerned that Eric hasn’t called yet. I’ll probably hear from him today with some news about next steps. I can’t believe I’m going to have my own space in a beautiful, established salon, earning what for me is a dream salary.

  I hope I don’t disappoint Raven. I know I can do it, but her assessment of my makeup, under the table at her wedding, isn�
��t much to go on in order to make a job offer. I’ve had jobs that paid me under the table, but I’ve never had an interview in that location.

  Mick is fast asleep in his car seat, with his little head tilted to one side. I always marvel at how uncomfortable that looks, but all babies sleep like that. I sigh and keep my eyes on the road. We’re headed to the park for a play date with Cassie and her two-and-a-half year old, Owen.

  It’s a sunny day and the temperature is a perfect seventy degrees, and Cassie wants to walk until the baby decides to make a move to exit her enormous, weary body. I wasn’t half as big with Mick, but he came a bit early.

  I pull into the parking lot of the beautiful, riverside park in Cassie’s neighborhood. They live in the suburbs, but close enough to the city to enjoy the river, in an older established community.

  I normally meet her at her sprawling brick ranch, but today she asked me to meet her at the park. I was going to bring Phoebe, but it’s challenging, at best, to wrangle the little guy and the furry girl.

  As I pull into an available spot, I see Cassie heaving her body out of the car and leaning in to unbuckle Owen from his car seat. I should run over to help, but I need to dislodge my little sleeper. He’ll be cranky when I wake him up, just like his father.

  I have been avoiding Max completely. I know he’s been hanging out with Rob and Diamond. Rob isn’t one to get involved in his brother’s personal life, and he won’t hound me to talk to Max. He knows I’ll do it when I’m good and ready.

  “Come on, Mick. Time to get up. Owen is waiting for you.” I touch his arm and he stirs, stretching like a little dog and pouting.

  “Mama, seepy.” He kicks his little feet, and I point out the window to show him that Owen has jumped out of the car, ready to go.

  Owen is a funny kid. He’s quiet, even though he can speak well for his age. Just like Max has been pushing the drums on Mick, Jon has tried to interest Owen in music.

  But Owen has one love. Fashion. At two years old, the child refuses to wear clothes he doesn’t like. No ducks, frogs or trains in his wardrobe. Cassie has to shell out big bucks on designer baby duds. He also insists upon wearing his shades wherever he goes, and he gets into Cassie’s hair gel, creating a mini ‘Elvis-do.’

  “Hey, guys. Owen, let’s go see Mick.”

  Cassie waddles over to meet us as I half drag my son to a standing position. I’ve brought the stroller because not only did I think he would be grumpy upon awakening, he’s a lot younger than Owen. At sixteen months it’s harder to walk for long periods of time. Although, I don’t know how long Cassie is going to last.

  We all exchange greetings, and Owen tries to high five Mick, who ends up smacking Owen in the side of the head. Luckily Owen isn’t a crier or a fighter, and we are able to get the walk underway. I wince a little as I watch Cassie’s effort with every step. She is determined to induce labor.

  As we head down the partially wooded path towards the river, I say, “So how do you feel? Do you think the baby is going to make its appearance soon?”

  Cassie places her hand on her huge belly and replies, “I sure hope so. I can’t sleep, I have to pee every five minutes. I’m ready for this to be over. Both sets of grandparents are also driving me nuts. We get a call from one of them every hour asking for an update, or telling me an old wives’ tale about how to induce labor.” She wrinkles her nose and says, “And you know, some of them are not things you want to hear from your father.”

  I laugh as I imagine Cassie discussing late-term pregnancy sex with her dad. Of course since I don’t have a dad, I am still envious.

  “Your father tells you that stuff? That’s funny.”

  “Oh, yeah. My parents are so weird. They are the least traditional people on the planet. My father loves to shop and decorate, and my mother plays golf and fixes appliances. My dad was actually the one who sent Owen the pink shirt he’s wearing. They want him to be gender fluid.”

  I pause before responding. This reminds me of my own mother’s attempts to be hip, but missing the mark. “You know that’s not what that term means, right?”

  Cassie smirks and says, “Of course I do, but there’s no point in telling him that.”

  She winces more visibly.

  “Hey, are you okay?”

  She rubs her belly and slows down. “Yeah, I think so. This little person is lodged in my ribs. I’ve run out of room. Dr. Mason says he or she is going to weigh at least nine pounds.”

  “And you’re eager to start labor?”

  I smile, but remember that it was hard enough to pop out a little six pound chicken. I wonder how big Owen was at birth. All the more reason for me not to be so eager to have another Rolling Stones named child.

  Wait, Max and I broke up. Since I was the one to initiate the split, why am I having a hard time remembering that it happened?

  We continue to talk about our parents and kids, and of course Cassie asks about Max. I knew she would. She’s not the nosy type, but to ignore the very recent breakup would be rude and unfriendly.

  “So has he been calling you constantly? Jon said he was pretty upset this time. I mean, you guys have broken up before, and he’s gone home with…you know, after a show…well, you did it, too.”

  Her eyes are pleading for understanding, and I give it to her, seeing as she has enough on her own plate.

  “You’re right. We used to have a big fight, break up and sleep with other people. Then we’d miss each other and get back together. I know he’s upset this time because of Mick.”

  “Dada soos.”

  Mick is reminded of the shoes his father left behind. I don’t see how he could follow this conversation, but I guess the word shoes is an easy one.

  Owen is running up ahead and not listening to us. We’re talking quietly so they can’t hear us. Not that they would understand, but all of a sudden, one day, things are going to register and stick.

  I don’t want Cassie’s son telling his pre-school teacher about Mommy’s friend who fights with her boyfriend and sleeps with other guys.

  “Yes, honey, Daddy left his shoes.”

  My throat thickens and I swallow hard. I feel Cassie’s eyes on me and I look up quickly.

  “Okay, no I’m not doing that great. But it’s for the best.” I lower my voice even more. “He’s never going to change, and I have an amazing opportunity to change my own life. This job is going to be just what I need to take my mind off that man and build a better future for…”

  I point down towards my son sitting in his stroller and Cassie nods her assent. I’m not sure if she agrees or she knows it isn’t worth arguing the point.

  She flinches and rubs her belly again. “Maybe we should sit for a minute.”

  She motions towards the benches and I push the stroller over to the seating area, and call Owen, who has run up ahead.

  “Owen, come back, sweetie. Your mommy needs to rest. Owen!”

  He’s run a bit too far ahead, so I park Mick next to a panting Cassie. Her face is getting redder, and now I’m thinking she may be getting her wish.

  Shit, I suck in emergencies, and I am super squeamish in medical situations.

  You would think since I have given birth, it wouldn’t freak me out, but I refused the mirror when Mick was crowning. The nurse started to wheel it in front of me and I began a series of curse words that almost made her cry.

  I didn’t mean to be harsh, but they sent a tougher nurse to guide me through the rest of the birth. Luckily Max kept everyone laughing, and I found out later that he apologized to the first nurse and brought her flowers the next day.

  As I run down the path to retrieve the wayward little fashion model in the pink shirt, I hear Cassie yelling, “Bianca, I’m calling Jon. I think I’m in labor!”

  Jon is at work on a Thursday, and I hope he has his phone on and with him at all times. He better not be in some stupid meeting and say he didn’t hear his phone.

  When I went into labor, Max was on a job, and Brandon actually
had to drive to the job site to tell my dumbass boyfriend his kid was coming. Fortunately, Brandon knew where to find the Buczkowski Brothers.

  Where did that child run off to? I see his little head peeking at me through the trees.

  “Owen, get over here! This is serious!”

  Giggling and running, he treads deeper into the wooded area. At least he isn’t running towards the river.

  Wait, yes he is! My sense of direction is pathetic.

  Oh my God, now my phone is ringing. I fumble for it in the pocket of my shorts and glance at the display, which I can’t see clearly as I’m running over branches and rocks. It’s a number I don’t recognize.

  “Hello, Jon? Cassie’s in labor. We’re at the park.”

  “Oh…I’m sorry, I must have the wrong number. Wait, is this Bianca Osbourne?”

  “Yes, who is this?”

  “It’s Eric Kimball. I’m calling you from my office phone to discuss next steps, but it sounds like you’re in a bit of a…situation.”

  Breathless and panting, I stop running long enough to say, “I’m so sorry. I’m at the park with my friend…and…she’s pregnant…and her little boy ran off. I thought you were her husband. Hold on, I have another call.”

  I put Eric on hold and curse under my breath. What a great first impression. At least it’s not me who’s in labor.

  “Hello, Jon?”

  “No, it’s me. Did you find Owen? My water broke. Jon isn’t picking up his phone. Mick is crying. I don’t know what to do!” Cassie’s pregnancy hormones have hit a fever pitch, as she screeches into the phone.

  “Don’t panic. I think I see Owen. We’ll be back in a minute. Keep trying Jon, or maybe call someone else he works with? Just hang on, I’ll get you to the hospital.”

  My heart pounds harder in my chest as I realize I don’t even know how to get to the hospital from here. And which one does she need to go to? She sees Dr. Mason, and if so she probably has to go to St. Vincent’s. Why would a pregnant woman use a hospital that’s twenty minutes away?