Juked Read online

  “Me?” I say, feeling like a middle-school boy staring at his crush. For some reason, this woman is starting to intrigue me. Not just in an “I want to fuck her” sort of way. More like a “It fascinates me a single woman would take on such a major responsibility and is doing it so gracefully” kind of way.

  “I have no excuse except I’m a dumb-ass.”

  “Why?”

  “I went out of town and didn’t bother to make sure I was stocked up on stuff like deodorant and laundry detergent. Now I’m back and have none of the needed essentials.”

  “I wouldn’t call you a dumb-ass,” she says with a grin. “Maybe a lazy ass.”

  I laugh. “I think my mother would agree with you about that.”

  All of the sudden, the baby lets out a huge grunt and the most god-awful noise comes from the vicinity of his hind end. My eyes get wide, and Quincy looks down with a stunned look on her face.

  “Did he just…?” I start but lose my train of thought as he grunts again.

  Quincy shakes her head in humorous disbelief. “I swear this kid has the constitution of a grown man.”

  I bark a laugh as Quincy holds her nose and says, “Ohmygod, Chance, what did they feed you at day care?”

  “Come on,” I say, pushing past her and pulling her cart to drag it behind me. “Let’s go over to that bench and get him cleaned up. There is no way anyone wants you to let that smell permeate through the store.”

  She follows me over to the same bench we sat on before and unstraps the baby from the carrier while I spread the changing pad out on the bench and pull out a diaper and some wipes.

  “How old is he now?” I ask as she sets him down gently and undresses him from the waist down. He looks up at me, and I’m sure he’s trying to figure out why I look upside down. He smiles and reaches for my face when I lean down to talk to him and keep him distracted from the mess his fingers could be getting in down below.

  “Four and a half months,” she says as she grabs him by the ankles and hauls his butt up in the air to wipe him off. “I can’t believe it’s been that long. He’s grown so much in that time.”

  “He really has,” I agree, wiggling my fingers at him to keep him entertained. “If it weren’t for the fact we had been in this situation before, I never would have recognized him.”

  She cocks an eyebrow at me as she quickly slaps a new diaper on him. “But you would have recognized me?”

  I chuckle. “Well, not necessarily without the baby strapped to you. But you guys do seem to make a lot of noise on that baby aisle. It’s hard not to notice you.”

  She laughs, never slowing from redressing the baby and wrapping the dirty diaper in a plastic bag. Smart woman. My sister used to always forget those bags. The diaper bag would always stink because she’d forget the diaper was in it, too. “I guess we are loud. It’s genetic, I guess. My dad always used to say he was from a big Polish family and Polacks are naturally loud.”

  I scoop up the baby as she uses an extra baby wipe to clean her hands and puts things away, sitting him on my lap facing me. “Really? You’re from a big Polish family?” I say to her in my best baby voice while looking at him, making him smile a big toothless grin at me. “I have a big Mexican family, so you can’t beat us in the loud department.”

  “That’s right. How many kids are there in your family? Five or six?”

  “Six of us total. Three girls, three boys, and all the spouses and kids.”

  “That’s crazy,” she says, sitting down after depositing the diaper bag in her cart. “It’s hard enough having one. I can’t imagine having six kids. Your mother must be a saint.”

  I smile, thinking about my loud, overbearing mother. “Pretty close to it. But boy, her wooden spoon sure could pack a punch if we got out of line.”

  We sit and chat for a while, neither of us really having anywhere we need to be. If I’m honest, I’m enjoying holding a baby again. My youngest nephew is three, and I kind of miss baby snuggles.

  Not many men admit it, but we’re big suckers when it comes to babies. We’re just not necessarily comfortable with them, nor does it mean we want any of our own. They’re just fun to play with.

  “So what kind of job do you have that you can grocery shop overnight and still make it through the day?” I stand Chance up on my thighs, sending an over-exaggerated smile his way, causing him to wobble in delight as I support him.

  “I’m pretty sure the only reason I make it through the day is because of the Starbucks next door,” she says, watching the baby as he bounces and wiggles and drools everywhere. “I’m a hairdresser, so I’m on my feet all day.”

  “That sounds pretty brutal, being on your feet all day on such little sleep.”

  “It’s probably better than sitting behind a desk. At least it’s harder to fall asleep when you’re standing up.”

  “Good point.” Chance reaches for my face with his chubby hands. I pretend to bite them before he can reach me. “Have you been doing it for a long time?”

  She cocks her head to the side in thought. “Um, about six years now. I started off in college, but when my dad died, I switched over to cosmetology school so I could start working as soon as possible. I had guardianship over my sister Sarah, Chance’s mom,” She tilts her head to him. “I needed to have a career as quickly as possible. I’ve been doing it ever since.”

  “Wow, I’m impressed.”

  “Why?” she asks, eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

  “You keep taking on the responsibility of raising someone. That’s admirable.”

  “Well, what would you do in that situation?”

  “The exact same thing you did,” I say reassuringly. “I know a lot of selfish people who wouldn’t, though. It’s nice to meet someone who has a real respect for family values. Not enough people do these days.”

  She opens her mouth to say something, but before she can speak, we’re interrupted by a little boy. He’s probably eight or nine and obviously a fan by the look of awe on his face.

  Even after all these years, it’s still weird when people recognize me on the street. I get it, because I was the exact same way, but it’s still strange when the attention is directed toward me.

  “¿Me das tu autógrafo?” “Claro. ¿Cómo te llamas?” I take the paper from him and scribble my standard signature and the number of my jersey on it.

  “Gabriel.”

  “¿Juegas fútbol, Gabriel?”

  “Sí.” He smiles. “Soy delantero como tú.”

  “Que bien. Tienes que seguir practicando si quieres ser profesional. ¿Okay? Saca buenas calificaciones y hazle caso a tu entrenador.”

  “Lo prometo.” I hand him back his paper. “¿Me puedo tomar una foto contigo? Mis amigos no me lo van a creer.” He’s smiling so wide. I remember what it was like to meet my favorite player when I was a kid. It’s kind of magical. So of course I’m gonna say yes.

  “Por supuesto. ¿Tienes tu teléfono?”

  He hands it to me and stands behind me so I can snap the pic for him. We smile for the camera quickly.

  “Gracias, Zavaro.”

  He takes the phone from me and races away, probably back to his parents.

  I turn to Quincy. She has a strange look on her face.

  “What?” I ask sheepishly. I know this just opened the door to her finding out about my job. It’s not a secret but I’m enjoying her not knowing anything about my choice in career. I love what I do, but sometimes it’s nice to talk about other things, too.

  “What was all that about?”

  I chuckle. “I take it you don’t speak any Spanish.”

  “Beyond the Pappasito’s menu, not a word,” she says with a grimace.

  “How can you live in Houston and not know any Spanish?” I ask.

  “I took a couple years in high school. I still know how to count to twenty, if that’s any consolation.”

  “Impressive,” I say, shifting Chance to my shoulder and patting him on the back. He’s gotte
n wiggly in the last couple of months.

  She quirks an eyebrow at me. “So are you going to tell me why some random kid came up and got a selfie with you?”

  “It happens sometimes because of my job.” She gives me a confused look. “He asked for my autograph. I’m a soccer player. I play for the Mutiny. The kid was just excited to meet a professional player.”

  Quincy sits up straight, like she’s shocked by my revelation, but she recovers quickly. “That explains the overly muscular calves, I guess.”

  I give her a flirty smile. “So you’ve been checking out my legs, have you?”

  “They’re hard to miss,” she says with a smile. “They are larger than the average legs.”

  Chance takes that moment to start squirming and getting fussy.

  “As fun as this is, I think this is my cue to go home.” Quincy takes Chance out of my arms, and he nuzzles into her neck. She straps him into his carrier.

  “Did you get everything you needed, or do we need to swing back through the baby aisle?”

  “We already have everything,” she says as she stands up. “When you found us, we were browsing. You never know when you’ll need to know where the gripe water is.”

  “Good point.”

  As we make our way to the checkout lanes, all I can think is this was the most enjoyable conversation I’ve had in a long time. Most beautiful women I spend this much time talking to are soccer fans so the conversation revolves around my job. But with Quincy, things are more free. It’s refreshing.

  We find a lane with a short line, and Quincy gets into it. “Thanks again for all your help, Daniel,” she says. “It’s been a lot of fun.”

  “Quincy, wait,” I say as she turns away. She looks back at me. “Think you’d be interested in going to dinner with me sometime?”

  Her face breaks out in a grin. “I think I could do that.”

  “Great,” I say, smiling back.

  We exchange numbers and go our separate ways. I thank my lucky stars I remembered to write a list of what I need to buy, because I can’t focus on anything beyond a beautiful blonde and her killer smile.

  Maybe shopping overnight has its perks after all.

  “I’m thinking we need to go bolder. Let’s do purple streaks this time.”

  I wrap the cape around her neck and snap it in place. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Sue. Remember what happened when you decided to do blue streaks? You were calling me the next day to get what you called ‘that damn Easter egg color’ out of your hair.”

  “I don’t know,” she says as she looks in the mirror, fluffing out her hair. “I don’t think I took enough time to get used to it. I think I jumped the gun on that.”

  I look over at Geni, who is doing an all-over color on one of her regular customers. She winks at me. This is a conversation she has overhead between Sue and me numerous times.

  “You will look like you are trying to chase your youth if you go with pastel colors,” I say and brush her hair. “If you really want bolder color, we can do some really dramatic auburn lowlights and offset it with blonde highlights.”

  If it was any customer other than Sue, I wouldn’t be so open with my assessment. But Sue was my very first customer over five years ago. We know each other very, very well. In her late fifties, she is spunky and fun. I want to be her when I grow up.

  “I think Quincy’s right,” Geni says, winking at me. She always backs me up when it comes to Sue’s disastrous ideas. “Highlights and lowlights are the way to go. They’ll be beautiful on you.”

  Sue eyes herself critically in the mirror. “I guess you’re right. I do want to look nice for my date.”

  “Who are you going out with this time?” I put down the brush and roll my tray over.

  “His name is Frank. We’re on the same planning committee at church. He finally pulled his head out of his ass and asked me out.”

  I laugh. “Do you think you should be cussing when you’re talking about a guy you met at church?”

  “Honey, Jesus rode into town on an ass. It says so, right there in my Bible. Besides,” she says with a snigger, “I’m pretty sure God gave up on my potty mouth years ago.”

  I pat her on the shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”

  Geni and her customer follow me to the hair dryers, where Geni gets her situated under the dryer while her hair color processes. I continue to the back to mix Sue’s color.

  Yawning, I take a minute to stretch my arms and back. This weird sleep schedule Chance has decided on is killing me. I am dog tired but from everything I’ve read, he’ll get on a more normal schedule eventually. In the meantime, I’ll have to settle for stretching my limbs in the back room several times a day. And midnight shopping trips.

  Okay, so those trips aren’t all bad. Especially if I keep meeting guys like Daniel.

  Thinking of him brings a smile to my face. With his dark, spiky hair, dark eyes, dark skin, he really is good-looking. Not quite six feet, but he definitely has a few inches on me. Plus he’s kind, funny, good with kids. I have no idea why he’s still single. Unless, of course, he’s a man-whore.

  Well, he did pick me up at Walmart.

  That’s okay. I can still go out with him and have some fun. I’m only twenty-four years old. Acquiring a baby may have changed my life completely, but it didn’t change my desire to go out and enjoy myself.

  I return to my station with both colors, set them on the tray, and pull on my gloves. Geni is giving a trim to one of her regular male clients, who is reading today’s paper.

  “Since you have a date, I should tell you I have one, too,” I say to Sue. I see Geni whip her head up out of the corner of my eye.

  “You didn’t tell me this,” Geni says, obviously irritated with me.

  “That’s because it didn’t happen until last night,” I rebut, painting Sue’s hair and not taking my eyes off the foils I’m folding.

  Sue smiles. “Well, who is he, and how did you meet him?”

  I chuckle. “I actually met him at Walmart last night while I was shopping.”

  “Chance is still not sleeping through the night, huh?” Geni asks, trading in her scissors for some clippers.

  “Nope.” I sigh. “We’ll get through it, but for now, I’m sort of stuck shopping at midnight.”

  “That doesn’t seem to be such a terrible thing, since you’re getting dates out of it,” Sue says. “Who is he? Tell us about this young stud muffin.”

  I shake my head at her. Sue is my favorite client. Her enthusiasm for life always puts me in a good mood.

  “His name is Daniel. Last night was actually the second time I ran into him. The first time was the night my sister died.” I take a second to swallow the lump in my throat that comes up every time I think about Sarah. There’s a time and a place to wallow in grief. Now is not either of those. “I was trying to figure out what formula to feed Chance, and I was a blubbering mess.” The memory still stings, though not as much as it did a couple of months ago. “He has a bunch of nieces and nephews, so he helped me figure out bottles and formula and stuff.”

  “Aw,” Geni says. Her client has put his paper down and is doing a terrible job of trying not to eavesdrop. “That’s really sweet.”

  “It was,” I agree. “We ran into each other again last night. I’m surprised he recognized me without all the snot and tears.” I chuckle. “We got to talking and really enjoyed each other’s company, so we’re going out.”

  “It wouldn’t happen to be this Daniel, would it?” Geni’s client asks, holding his folded newspaper out for us to look at. All three of us crane our necks to see.

  There’s a picture of Daniel and me sitting on the bench by the pharmacy. Daniel is holding Chance in a standing position. They’re smiling at each other while I’m looking on. The picture really is sweet. The writer of the caption, however, jumped to a whole lot of conclusions.

  Caught Again: Is This Soccer Stud Turning into a Soccer Dad?

  “Um… yep.
I guess that would be him.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Geni practically screeches and snatches the newspaper out of her client’s hand. “You’re going out with Daniel Zavaro? Captain of the Texas Mutiny? How did you not tell me this?”

  “I didn’t even know what his job was until last night. How do you know him anyway? You don’t follow soccer.”

  She gives the paper back, spouting statistics and ticking them off with her fingers. “Daniel Zavaro, twenty-nine years old. Six-year veteran of the Texas Mutiny. Number four on last year’s Top Twelve most eligible bachelor list as voted by the city of Houston, behind one baseball player and two football players. Single, loves his family, volunteers at a local children’s soccer league and all around nice guy.”

  I stare at her, mouth gaping. “I can’t believe you know all that.”

  “I can’t believe you don’t,” Sue says. “I didn’t know about his volunteer work, but even I bought one of those sexy calendars they put together from the guys on that list.” I cock my head at her. “What? It was for charity.”

  “Seriously, Quincy,” Geni says, turning back to her client. “He is ridiculously hot. If you decide you don’t like him, hook me up.”

  “We’ll see. He’s really fun to talk to but it’s not like we have a whole lot in common.”

  “You don’t need to have anything in common to get naked with the man,” Geni says without looking up from what she’s doing.

  “Uh, it’s a little premature for that, don’t ya think?” I quirk an eyebrow in her direction.

  “Premature to bang Daniel Zavaro? Uh, no. That will never be premature.” I shake my head and continue doing Sue’s hair. I haven’t been to a soccer game since high school. I may have to change that in the near future.

  I haven’t been this excited about a date in a very long time. Don’t get me wrong. I’m an extrovert by nature. I love going out and meeting people, going on dates, and of course, sex. But the idea of spending time with Quincy made it really hard to stay focused during practice yesterday.