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I settle on the next best thing. Mase.
“Hey, man, you want to help?” I don’t know why I’m asking. We both know I’m demanding he come over. “I know you’re not doin’ shit tonight. Ami’s with Callie.”
Mase groans. “I was going to sleep.”
“Too fucking bad, bitch,” I say with some authority. “I never sleep. Get over here!”
He does as I say, knowing if he doesn’t, I will just pack the kid up and take him up to Mase and camp out in front of his door with a screaming kid.
* * *
“He seems normal,”Mase says as we sit on the couch, Caleb still sleeping in the donut with his arms up over his head. Looks comfortable, but not really.
“Normal? There’s nothing normal about newborns.” I turn the channel from ESPN over to watch the highlights from the Oilers game to see how they played. We’re playing them tomorrow night on home ice. “Their defense coverage is brutal, and their protection of the neutral zone is basically nonexistent. Look at all the turnovers they give up. We have to have puck management, get in the dirty area, and just keep crashing the fuckin’ net.”
“Oh, man, did you see the way he pulled that D-man in?” Mase shouts. Fucking shouts and wakes Caleb up.
It isn’t just a wake-up either. The kid goes into full-blown panic mode, legs kicking, arms flailing, and a shrieking cry.
“Nice, asshole,” I grumble at Mase and pick him up. “You’re fine, buddy. No need to alert the entire building.”
At my words, Caleb looks at me, then Mase, and realizes he’s stuck with us. Makes him cry even harder. I’m talking entire body cries.
Mase covers his ears. “You’d think we’re hurting him.”
I stand up, trying to bounce him. “This is all your fault.”
“Fine. I’ll leave.”
“You’re not going anywhere.” I grab him by the shirt and slam his ass down on the couch. Okay, I push him. But it feels much more aggressive in my mind. And don’t freak out. Caleb is fine. Listen to him. His lungs are in tiptop shape.
Mase glares at me. “You can’t hold me hostage.”
“Yes, I can.”
For the next ten minutes, I try everything from bouncing Caleb up and down to begging him to just fucking stop crying. None of it works. He cries harder and harder. Completely inconsolable.
“We should call Granny B,” I say after twenty minutes of him crying. “She gets him to stop all the time.”
Mase drops his hands from his ears, leaning forward on the couch with his elbows resting on his knees. “We arenotcalling Granny B.” And then he stares at me. “I’m going home.”
“The fuck you are,” I snap. “You woke him up. Deal with it.”
Mase follows me into Caleb’s room, where I gently lie my boy on the changing table, all while he screams his tiny head off. “Hey.” I place one hand on him to keep him from moving and then glance back at Mase. “Hand me that diaper right there.”
He does, and just about that time, Caleb pees. All over Mase. Well, his face that is.
Mase glares at me, pee dripping from his chin. “You did that on purpose.”
“No.” I shake my head, slightly in shock that just happened. “I don’t think I did.”
My phone rings in my pocket. I touch Caleb’s belly lightly and give him a bro-code look of shut the fuck up when I see it’s Callie calling. “Stay quiet, or she’ll know we have no idea what we’re doing. We’re boys. Don’t rat us out.” I shit you not, he stops crying. That’s all it took. He doesn’t make a sound, his eyes on mine like he knows what I’m talking about. Boy code, maybe. At any rate, I slide my finger over the screen. “Hey, baby.”
“How are things?” she asks, giggling heard in the background.
It’s a disaster, but no way am I telling her that. “Awesome.”
“It’s awful!” Mase shouts with a rag to his face wiping off the pee, only to have Callie start laughing. I turn to punch Mase when I feel something wet on my arm.