Chapter 4 Seth
Seth
I try not to think about my sexy and annoying-as-hell neighbor, Calvin, as I take my kids to the drop-off daycare for the evening.
Why does he always push my buttons? I want to poke back, but my kids are always around.
I have to set an example for them. What’s worse is that he’s starting to live rent-free in my head.
I blame it on not getting laid for three years.
If he wasn’t hot, my brain probably wouldn’t be festering like this.
Malcolm and I called our daycare drop-off business ‘Penny’s Playhouse,’ named after my mom. What started as one facility quickly grew into four across New Orleans and the surrounding suburbs.
Honestly, I’m making a killing on them. Sure, I have loans and overhead, but they’re incredibly popular.
Parents can simply drop off their kids on other days when daycares are closed or if they only need us once.
Need to go to an appointment and can’t bring the kids?
Drop them off at Penny’s. Going on a date night?
Drop off your kids at Penny’s. You can leave them for an hour or ten, though ten is a bit excessive and unusual.
My business is technically a glorified babysitter. Instead of hiring babysitters you don’t know very well, who are hard to come by, or are unreliable, I have staff trained in childcare and education.
Every night is movie night. The place is one giant playscape, filled with activities and bright colors. In the back, outside, is a playground. Our services include meals and snacks.
I never expected the place to grow so fast that I needed to expand rapidly. It made all that pain and grief worth it. When Malcolm left, I was shattered. It was work and my kids that kept me going forward and distracted.
Even better? I get to drop off my kids on poker nights. They’re in good hands, and I get a much-needed break from children. I love them with every fiber of my being, but sometimes I need a moment to breathe.
“Can’t I go with you, Seth?” Harrison asks. “I’m older now. This place is for little kids.”
I smile and slide open the back door of my van. “But I need you, Hare. You’re great at keeping your brother and sister in line. You also know that there aren’t any kids on poker night.” That’s not quite true. Sometimes, if they’re older, they might come. Usually, we try to play without them.
I unbuckle a zonked Emily from her car seat. When she wakes up, she’s going to be a grumpy banshee. Once she sees her friends from Penny’s, she’ll forget about being mad.
Sawyer is easy. He loves Penny’s and especially watching movies while eating pizza.
After I get my kids all checked in, I head back to my car and drive to my friends’ place. I’m eager to hang out with adults for a change.
My friends Ruben Edwards and Travis McClure have an old home in the Garden District that they’ve beautifully renovated. They have three kids between them: two in college and one who’s a flight attendant.
Reuben has one son from a previous marriage, and Travis has two. Both had been married and divorced to women in a past life. They found each other about eleven years ago and have been in love since.
Edmundo Chavez, my accountant, invited Malcolm and me to the poker team after we adopted our children. He and his husband, Paul Amhaz, have two kids of their own through surrogacy.
The last member of the Royal Dads’ Poker team is Slade Messer, who owns a small tattoo shop and has a seventeen-year-old daughter.
There have been a few others who have come and gone, but for now, there are only six of us.
I knock on the door, and Reuben is quick to open it. “There he is!” he booms and yanks me into a bear hug.
“Oof,” I grunt as he squeezes the air from my lungs. “Nice to see you, Reuben.”
Reuben is wearing a cream linen shirt, which looks amazing against his dusky skin.
He’s been losing his hair over the years, so he just shaves his head, but he wears a beard, which is sprinkled with gray.
He owns yoga and Pilates businesses and even teaches.
At 55, he looks more like he’s in his late forties, and his body could give some thirty-year-olds a run for their money.
He also stands at six-foot-four, a half a foot taller than me.
As Travis tells it, Reuben was a football star at LSU a gazillion years ago until an injury kept him from going pro.
He leads me into the dining room, where we play poker since it has the most space. But each month, we rotate who will host the game at their house.
“How are the kids?” he asks as we make our way into the kitchen.
“They’re good. Harrison is amazing at school and always helpful. Sawyer is as sweet as ever. He’s still a little shy, but he’s coming around. And Em? Well… she’s my wild girl. I’m terrified she’ll start climbing trees and breaking legs in no time.”
Reuben chuckles. “Be grateful. She’ll grow up and give those boys a run for their money. None of them will dare mess with her.”
“I love her vibrancy and independence, but, god, she’s hard to keep up with.”
“Toddlers, gotta love them,” Travis says, handing me an opened bottle of Abita Amber.
Travis is a couple of years older than Reuben. His skin is pale with freckles, and he has a full head of thick gray hair. He’s not quite as tall, but he’s also fit. No doubt Reuben makes his husband do yoga and Pilates. Travis is an economics professor at Tulane University.
The two men have become incredible friends to me over the past three years. They even held me as I broke when Malcolm left and made sure to kick me in the ass so I wouldn’t neglect my children in my grief.
We’re making small talk when Paul and Edmundo walk in. We shake hands and share pictures of our kids. Their youngest is two years old, and they’re having to face toddler hell like I am.
I swear, Edmundo and Paul are the most attractive couple I’ve ever seen. Edmundo’s family hails from Venezuela, and Paul’s family is from Lebanon. Both are tall and fit, looking like they came right out of a GQ magazine with thick black hair and dark brown eyes.
They often remind me of my loneliness. Their marriages are so happy and filled with love.
I thought Malcolm and I had been happy, but apparently not.
The only one who keeps me from feeling like a fifth wheel is Slade.
Like Reuben and Travis, he’d been previously married to a woman and had a daughter before a divorce seven years ago.
She’d left when he came out as gay. Slade is as single as I am.
Speaking of the devil, he walks into the kitchen, greeting everyone.
He’s about my height, but that’s where the similarities end.
He has light brown hair, brown eyes, and he’s covered in tattoos.
Slade likes to wear T-shirts, torn jeans, boots, and drives a Harley.
We couldn’t be more different. But he’s a heck of a nice guy.
Slade claps me hard on the back after he grabs a beer. “How’s it hangin’, Seth? Ready for that tattoo yet?”
I visibly shuddered, making him cackle. “No way.”
“Come on. Just a small one. I’ll even do it for free since we’re bros and all. It only hurts a little.”
Edmundo scoffed. “Don’t listen to him, Seth. Tattoos hurt like a bitch.”
“Psh, it only stings for a bit. Besides, you ended up with a whole tattoo sleeve,” Slade retorted. “Yeah, that’s gonna hurt.”
Paul lifted his shirt sleeve to show off a Chinese-style tiger. “This baby here nearly made me cry when I felt the ink prick along my triceps, especially with the colored ink.”
I give Slade a deadpan look. “No. Needles and I are not friends. Whenever I have to get the kids vaccinated, I’m the one who has to squeeze my eyes shut. I’m a big baby. I might even pass out.”
He winks at me and takes a pull from his beer. “I’ll get you into my shop yet. Just you wait.”
“You’re impossible.”
“Persistent. It’s a good quality.”
“Good quality for whom? For what? Annoyance?”
He bumped my shoulder playfully. “It’s easy to get you going, Seth-baby.”
“God, you’re as bad as my neighbor, always poking and prodding me. Do I have a sign on my back that says, ‘kick me?’”
“Is he cute?” Paul asks, winking at me.
“Ugh, don’t you start. Yes, he’s cute. No, I don’t have any interest in him or anyone.
He’s a pain in the butthole. Did you know he makes totems with my kids’ toys if they leave them in his yard?
He’ll stand there at the crack of dawn in his underwear, making this strange sculpture.
Weirdo. And he brings home a lot of guys, like all the time.
Heck, I think I saw a woman leave his place once.
Sometimes I see him coming home when I have to take the kids to school.
Like, what is he doing all night? Then there’s his house.
I mean, who the hell needs a house that big living all alone? ”
All five men are staring at me with their beer bottles hovering over their mouths.
“What?” I ask.
“Bro, your neighbor sure has taken up a lot of your headspace,” Slade snorted.
“Tsh, no! He’s just annoying.”
“Someone has a crush,” Travis coughs into his arm.
“O-kay! Enough of the ‘let’s pick on Seth’ day. Can we play now? Sheesh.”
“You know it’s only out of love.”
I crane my head back at Edmundo as we walk into the dining room and roll my eyes.
“You know, I know a guy—” he starts to say.
“Ugh, no, Ed!”
“He’s really cute and sexy.”
“Hey! Who are you calling sexy?” Paul growls.
“Not for me. You know you’re the only one for me, baby, and you’re way hotter.”
Appeased, Paul sits at the dining table. “You better believe it.”
Edmundo looks back at me as I sit next to Paul. “So, how about a blind date?”
“No.”
If Edmundo is anything, he’s persistent. Well, he and Slade never stop. One with dating, and the other with tattoos. If I let them, I’d end up covered head-to-toe in ink and dating some guy I barely like. I’m sure I’ll eventually get talked into it because if I’m anything, I’m weak… and lonely.