* * *
ZAC
I need to get these shelves up today. They are coming soon, and everything has to be perfect. I have faced men in fight rings, drug dealers, and pimps, but nothing has me as frightened as this visit.
Kids—twins—and they are mine apparently. Three months ago, I was living the bachelor’s dream. Condos, fast women, fast cars, and lots of money. I am a creature of pleasure and live carpe diem. I say live because tomorrow you might die.
Now I have twins from a woman with whom I had forgettable sex. They are five years old. Did I challenge that shit? Yes, fucking yes, I did. I hired the best lawyers money can buy. However, thanks to a lab test result and my swimmers, they are mine. I apparently am an overachiever through and through. I didn’t do one kid, nah I knocked her up with fraternal twins; one boy and one girl.
My emotions are all over the place. I don’t recall much about the night they were conceived which means I was drunk. I wanted to know why she waited so long to tell me! Five years is a long time. Their mom said because I wasn’t ready for them, I wasn’t ready to be a father.
Under different circumstances, I would have dragged her through the mud. But she was right. Five years ago, I wasn’t ready for anything but sex and money. I would have thrown money at her, millions. I had it to burn.
I am still not ready, but I’m more mature than before. Or I would like to think so.
Alas, she didn’t want my money, just a promise that I would take care of two children whom I’ve never met.
She had ovarian cancer, and she fought and lost the battle. I rented the condo out and bought a four-bedroom house in Charleswood, Florida.
Now I am making my new home as child-friendly as possible. I want a glass of Jack so bad, but bookshelves are a priority.
I do love this neighborhood. Everyone is nice to me but the snotty little woman next door. I get the feeling she doesn’t like me much. Pity. With an ass like that, I’m willing to try to make her at least like me. But she makes it hard. Everyone has welcomed me in some way or another, but not her.
No! I waved at her and even said, “Good morning.” Does she even acknowledge me? No.
She click-clacks in her heels to her electric car. Her outfits are always a mini fashion show. At least she has some sort of style. Unfortunately, it’s uptight and starched. My dog Mishka could have added to her reason for disliking me. She is always in her yard when she is unleashed. She may or may not have dug up some tulips, but I planted them back.
“Focus, Zac.” I pound another nail into the wall. I’m going to be a father, and I’m nowhere near ready for this job.
My phone rings, I stop my pounding, reach into my back pocket, and take it out. It’s Daire, my younger brother.
“Yeah!” I answer, stopping and making sure that the shelf was even.
“The aunty and the children are coming tomorrow. Are you ready?” he asks.
I groan looking around the house, seeing three boxes from my old condo that still need to be unpacked. I will have to be ready.
“I will be there to help you before she arrives. What are you doing now?” he asks.
“Hanging up the shelves. The bed is assembled and so is the desk.” I look around at my son’s new room. I heard he was a Batman fan so I got him a custom made Batmobile bed. His room looks like Gotham, well at least in the day. The walls are white, but I had a mural of Gotham city, with a bat signal.
“Finished my daughter’s room. Yes, it looks like a princess dream room, as requested.” Everything in the room is fluffy or laced. The room is pink, like Pepto Bismol pink, but if my kid loves it, I love it too. The room is staying this color until she is ready to change.
“See you tomorrow at 9:00 a.m.,” he says and hangs up the phone.
I am going to be a father. I know nothing about children, my parents only had my brother and me. They are great parents, my dad owns a law firm, and my mom is a lawyer turned into a stay-at-home wife. We are a great family.
My father and I don’t see eye to eye much. Particularly since I abhor practicing law and wanted no part of his firm. I’d rather be a restaurateur than a lawyer. Thank goodness for Daire. Without him, I wouldn’t get to do what I love.
What do I love? I love my three f’s .
I love good food, especially when quality ingredients are used.
My other f? A good fight really gets my adrenaline rushing.
And finally, a great fuck.
Don’t get me wrong, I love a good tightly rolled Cuban and a glass of whiskey, but nothing makes my heart pump like a great fuck. Especially when both parties are satisfied. Give me a woman who smells great with a firm derriere and soft skin, and I’m in heaven.