Chapter 2
I t had been a shit week at work, and now there was more work―playing at the bar.
Friday nights were the absolute worst. Everybody had been at work all week, they were sick and tired of the rat race, and they came in to cut loose.
Problem was, they didn’t want to turn loose of any of their hard-earned cash, so there wasn’t much in tips, and the bar sure didn’t pay a lot.
They only got about twenty-five percent of the cover charge, which wasn’t fair either, and all they really got out of the work was enough to pay for gas for the week.
But every once in a while, someone would come in and decide to hire them for a party or something, and that was pretty nice. It was the best they could hope for.
Playing for four hours was quite a chore.
It was tempting to repeat some of the songs close to the end of the set.
After all, most of the patrons who’d been there early were gone, and the ones left near closing time were so drunk they didn’t know the difference.
The late set was an opportunity to play some of their original stuff, and it was usually well received, seeing as how no one could tell the difference by then anyway.
That was the part of the evening Blue liked best. If he had to be stuck in that shit town, he might as well have some fun and do something he loved, and playing that bass was something he’d always enjoyed.
It was still tiresome, though, after a long day at work.
By the time Blue dragged himself home and fell into bed, it was well past two in the morning.
He slept like a rock, never even rolling over, until a knock at the door woke him.
Prying one eye open and rolling it toward the clock, he was shocked―it was eleven in the morning.
He struggled to his feet and shuffled toward the door, wondering if he’d imagined the knocking.
Probably those damn kids from next door.
When he slung the door open, he was beyond pissed.
There was no one there. He looked both ways, but didn’t see a soul.
I must’ve dreamed it , he thought and headed back to bed.
But just as the door closed, he heard a sound, an unfamiliar sound, something that made him stop and turn back to the door.
He opened it again, but there was nothing and no one there.
And then he heard the sound again. Blue looked down at the landing and what he saw there almost made him faint.
A baby. In a basket.
Holy fucking hell! What kind of sick joke is this?
Blue looked out the door again, then stepped out and past the basket the gurgling bundle of spit and poop was snuggled down into and looked around in the yard.
Nope. Not one soul. He turned back and looked down again.
Sure enough, it was still there. There was a baby in a basket on his damn doorstep.
Is this some kind of weird dream? I must be hallucinating .
Stepping back inside, he closed the door, then opened it again and, yep, it was still there.
Now it was flailing its little arms around and making small, kitten-like sounds.
The panic that clutched at Blue’s throat was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before.
What the hell was a baby doing on his porch?
Someone must’ve had the wrong address―that had to be it.
He squatted near the basket, afraid to touch it, and saw a piece of paper sticking up at the side of the wicker.
Pulling it out, he opened it and read it, his mouth falling open and chin dropping until his jaw was almost on the concrete.
Dear Blue,
I know this comes as a surprise, but this is your baby daughter.
Her name is Indigo, and her birth certificate is in the bottom of the basket in a plastic bag (in case she leaks).
I’m sorry to dump her on you like this, but I can’t take care of her.
I’m leaving for California and didn’t want to take her with me.
I know she’ll be safe with you. Thanks and tell her I love her.
Cindy
Blue’s mind spun. Cindy. They’d only dated for about six weeks.
How could there be a baby? And yet he knew six weeks was definitely long enough for someone to get pregnant.
Hell, it only took once! But he wasn’t sure if the timing was right.
Maybe she was mistaken about it being his baby.
He squatted there, wondering what to do, when the unthinkable happened.
It started to cry.
What the hell was he supposed to do? He glanced around, but there was no bag of supplies, no instruction sheet, nothing.
He didn’t know how to feed it, how to clean it up, or anything else for that matter.
He knew babies took bottles, but the only bottles he owned had beer in them.
What now? Picking it up didn’t seem like an option because he wasn’t sure how to do that and he didn’t want to hurt it.
Maybe he should call somebody. Yeah. That’s what he should do.
He ran through his memory. None of the guys had kids.
He had no parents, so there was no mom to call, and no sister either.
Then he thought of Turner. Turner had kids.
Sure, they were grown, but they’d been little sometime or other.
He pulled out his cell and dialed his boss’s number.
“It’s a Saturday, Wallace. What the hell do you want? ”
“Turdbuck, um, Turner, I’ve got a little problem.”
“Yeah? And I’m supposed to fix it?”
“Hey!” Now Blue was getting a bit freaked out. “I just need some advice! Can you help a guy out, please?”
“What? Don’t know how to get a woman out of your bed?”
“No! You’ve got kids, right?”
There was silence for a few seconds, and finally Turner said, “Yeah.”
“So what do I do with a baby?” The silence stretched out painfully until Blue finally asked, “Turner? Did you hear me?”
“Um, yeah. Why in the hell are you asking me about a baby?”
“Because…” Blue started, then realized how ridiculous the whole thing sounded. About that time, the infant let out a shriek and Blue figured he’d better say something. “Because somebody left a baby on my doorstep.”
There was a really, really, ridiculously long pause and finally Turner started to scream with laughter. “You expect me to believe that someone left a baby on your doorstep? Your doorstep? Who the hell would be stupid enough to do that ?” Turner cackled as he asked.
“Shut up, damn it! There’s a goddamn baby on my doorstep! I don’t know who left it, well, I do, but anyway, I don’t know what to do with it!”
“I’d suggest you call whoever left it and tell them to come back and get it!” Turner yelled into the phone, still laughing.
“I can’t or I would. Damn! Can’t you help me a little?” Blue was growing desperate.
“You’re serious!” Turner laughed out, and then started to quiet. “There really is a baby on your doorstep.”
Blue’s heart sank. “Yes. There really is.”
He could still hear Turner chuckling, but finally the man said, “My wife took care of ours when they were little. I don’t know shit about babies. Wish I could help you, man, but I can’t.”
“Wow. Thanks then. Talk to you Monday.” Blue hit END, his hands shaking, and stared at the baby. It was still crying, but not as hard as it had been. He looked across the lawns again, but there was no one moving around in the neighborhood, so he picked up the basket and carried it into the house.
Once it was inside, he rummaged around in the kitchen.
He had no milk. All he had was beer, whiskey, vodka, and a little bit of wine.
Even though he didn’t know much about kids, he was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to give any of those things to a baby.
The only thing he had that looked even remotely like he supposed baby food would was guacamole, and it was old and probably not any good anymore.
Plus it was spicy, and he didn’t think that would be good for a baby.
So what else? It had started crying again, and he didn’t know what to do, so he took hold of the side of the basket and started to rock it back and forth.
That seemed to help a little. While he rocked, he ran through his list of friends and acquaintances, but there didn’t seem to be one single person on that list who would know anything about a baby.
Then he heard a sound that jolted him out of his thoughts.
Kids playing. The neighbor woman! She had kids!
She’d know what to do. Then Blue thought about what would happen when he knocked on her door, and he was pretty sure she’d slam it in his face, but he had to try.
There was no one else. “Stay right here. I’m going for help,” he told the writhing bundle, the realized how stupid that sounded.
Where would it go? And how would it get there?
With one more backward glance, he closed the door behind him and sprinted across the lawn.
The kids playing outside stared at him as he ran across the yard and up onto the porch. One knock and the door opened. Her eyes went squinty and she glared at him. “What do you want?” she practically spat.
“I need some help. It’s an emergency,” Blue wheezed out.
“Oh, what’s wrong? Your latest lay get her leggings tangled up?” she asked, her tone mocking and sharp.
“No! There’s a… I’ve got a…” Blue realized in that moment that what he was about to say sounded ridiculous, and she’d probably just laugh and order him off her porch.
“Well, spit it out! I haven’t got all day!” she snapped, leaning against the door jamb and folding her arms across her chest. “What’s the emergency? Out of rum?” she asked, one eyebrow cocking upward.
“No. I’ve, um, there’s a baby at my house.”
Her brows dropped and her forehead creased. “What do you mean, there’s a baby at your house?”
“Someone left a baby on my doorstep. And I don’t know what to do with it.”