CHAPTER 6 Dex Bradley
Peepee Teepee
Where is she?
It’s been ninety minutes since she left, and the kid is going to wake up soon.
I’ve done my best to be as quiet as possible, but I’ve already decided once she’s back and he’s not in his room, we’ll move his room so it’s not so close to my weight room.
I don’t know what else to do with myself, and I still need a solution to this problem. I decide to call my sister—not the one Ainsley is friends with, but Everleigh, the one who’s only a year younger than me.
“Hey Dex,” she answers.
“You sound tired.”
“Thanks?” she says like a question. “I’m not tired, just busy.” She’s firm and to the point, which makes me think she doesn’t have time for this conversation. “What do you need?”
“Nothing,” I mutter. “Call me when you’re not so busy.”
“No, wait,” she says, probably correctly reading that I was about to hang up. “Talk to me. Why are you calling? You never call.”
“I, uh…I have a bit of a situation.”
“A situation? Do you need to lay low at Madden’s place until camp starts? I think he’s in San Diego for now.”
“I just spent the last month laying low there.” I blow out a breath but don’t let her get on my ass about not calling her while I was in town as long as I was. “I guess I got a woman pregnant around fifteen months ago.”
She gasps.
“She had the kid, and then she got arrested, and she dropped the kid off with me while she does her time.”
“Oh my God, Dex,” she says. “When did all this go down?”
“Yesterday.”
“Whoa. Okay, so you have a kid?”
“Yeah. And I have no idea what the fuck to do with it. Help.”
“I’m an auntie?” she asks softly, and she sounds nearly emotional over it.
“Focus, Ev. I need help.”
“Shit, Dex. Okay, do you know anyone who could help you out?” she asks.
“I actually ran into one of Ivy’s friends who was looking for a job. Long story short, she’s been a fucking lifesaver while I try to figure out what to do.”
“What do you mean, figure out what to do?” she demands, and she’s even more no-nonsense than Ainsley.
“You know…find a more permanent solution,” I say.
“Like a nanny?”
“Like someone who can take him,” I mutter.
“You don’t want him?”
“Jesus. Why not get straight to the heart of the matter?” I realize that’s my sarcasm biting, but I don’t really know any other way.
I clear my throat as I try to figure out what I do want.
“Look, I never said that. But I only have a few weeks to figure this out. Keeping him, raising him…I’m not convinced it’s the best option for either of us. ”
“Him?”
“Jack. He’s six months old. His mom just surrendered herself to jail for the next two years, but she signed sole custody over to me before she left when she dropped him off yesterday.”
“Oh, Dex,” she says, and she sounds sympathetic. “You can’t just give him away. He’s your baby. I didn’t want this huge crisis at work, but it’s still my issue to take care of. You know what I mean?”
“Yeah, you’ve got work to do. I get it.”
“No,” she says firmly. “That’s not what I mean.
I mean, just because something lands on your lap that you didn’t necessarily want doesn’t mean you have as many options as you seem to think.
It’s your responsibility to take care of your child.
What does Dad always say about legacy? What would Mom and Dad think about you just giving someone away who has the Bradley blood running through his veins? ”
“I knew I should’ve called Ford instead of you.”
“The reality is the same either way you look at it. I’m happy to help however I can, but I think if you set aside your fear for a second and really take a look inside, you know what’s right and what’s wrong in this situation,” she says.
Her words are tough, but her tone is gentle.
“I wish we were closer so I could hold my nephew.”
“Come visit me,” I suggest.
I hear some rustling through the baby monitor. He might be up soon, and Ainsley isn’t back yet.
“I’ll try. It’s been hard to break away from work. But now that there’s an actual reason besides my dumb big brother, maybe I’ll prioritize Vegas.”
I laugh. “Thanks, Ev. You always know just how to make me feel better.”
“I figured that was why you called. Listen, you’ll be fine. No parent knows what they’re doing when they first have a kid. Yours is just, well, six months older than most kids are when parents get started.”
“And there’s often a significant other in the equation,” I mutter.
“Valid point, but we play the cards we’re dealt. And knowing how you’ve always been a little scrappy but managed to pull yourself up more than once, I think you’ve got this under control, too.”
“Scrappy?” I repeat. “No one has ever called Dex Bradley scrappy.”
“No one except his baby sister.”
I can practically see the smirk on her face. “Well, thanks for nothing.”
“Dex, seriously, if you need anything, call me. I’ll do whatever I can to help.”
“Thanks. Don’t say a fucking word to anybody about any of this.” I end the call before she gets mushy and says something stupid like she loves me, and as much as I hate to admit it, I think she did help.
Reality hasn’t set in yet, and maybe it won’t for a while. But I think she might be right.
As much as my first instinct was to figure out a solution to this problem, it’s entirely possible that I myself am the solution.
It’s a little over an hour later when he’s crying, and I’m trying to change his diaper, but the kid is wiggly as fuck. I don’t want to damage any of the family jewels, so to speak, so I’m careful to wipe him the way I watched Ainsley do last night, but then the kid decides he needs to take a piss.
There’s no ready, aim, fire. It’s just fire.
The piss arches straight into the air and right onto my shirt, and I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do, so I panic for a few very wet seconds before I use the fresh diaper I was trying to open up, and I cover his entire area with it so at least I’m not still getting pissed on by my own kid.
He stops crying, at least. And now he’s giggling.
He’s fucking laughing at me as I pull the wet diaper away to inspect the damage.
The table is wet. The pad I have the kid on is wet. I’m wet. Jack is wet.
And he still isn’t wearing a goddamn diaper.
I pull his clothes all the way off, and I make sure he’s secure on the table before I pull my shirt off and toss it on top of his wet clothes. My shorts got a little on them, too, so I pull those off as well.
And that’s how Ainsley finds us after three hours away. She peeks her head into the baby’s room, sees Jack on the table naked and giggling along with me standing there in my underwear cursing my entire existence.
Her eyes are wide as she looks to me for my reaction.
“How was your interview?” I ask calmly.
She bursts into laughter.
“That good?”
She walks into the room. “What happened?”
“I was trying to change him, and he pissed all over me. Kid’s got good aim, that’s for sure.”
“Just practicing for writing his name in the snow in a few years.” She shrugs.
“He’s got me for a dad plus four uncles. He doesn’t need to practice quite yet, and there are plenty of guys who can train him.”
“My mom said there’s a thing called a peepee teepee to cover little boys up so they don’t do that.”
“Peepee teepee?” I repeat. “Jesus, I have a lot to learn.” I stare at the mess on the table and muse, “Do they make those for adults?”
She shrugs. “Just seems like one more thing to get in the way. Kid or adult.”
I laugh. “Will you get his diaper on while I go get some clothes?”
She shakes her head. “You get his diaper on. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
I clench my jaw. I’m not used to being so goddamn far out of my element, and it makes me uneasy. I’m used to living life how I want. I’m not used to having to ask for help. “I don’t know how.”
“You do. Give it a try.”
“I did, and I got pissed on,” I hiss. She’s close enough that she’ll take over if I walk out, so I do.
I’m paying her to do this for me, not to make me feel like I’m incapable of doing it myself.
I take a quick shower to rinse the smell of urine off and pull out some clean clothes, and when I’m dressed, I find her and Jack in the family room on another play structure.
This time Jack is sitting upright and slamming his hands on a part of the play gym that starts playing a song every time he hits it, so we’re getting the same note on repeat since he’s hitting it over and over while she absently scrolls her phone.
Truth be told, I’m starting to get a headache, and I’m not paying her to scroll. I’m about to snap about that when she looks up at me.
“Can we take him to a playground?” she asks. “Fresh air would be good for him, and then we won’t have to listen to this nonsense. I found a few nearby we can try.” She flashes her phone at me to show me the proximity of all the playgrounds nearby.
I’m glad I didn’t snap, and her question goes another long fucking way to make me feel like a dick.
I’m hoping at some point I can get my shit together, but it doesn’t seem like that day is today.