Page 3 of Nanny for the Rockstars

“I’m going with the note,” I announce. “All of us.”

“But you know that’s impossible, right?” Caleb argues.

“Why?” I ask. “There’s lots of kids out there with two moms or two dads.”

“I’m not getting into biology with you,” Caleb says.

“I wonder what color his mom’s eyes are. His are blue just like ours,” I say as I look at the baby.

“You are such an idiot,” Caleb announces. “All babies have blue eyes, dumbass. They change later on.”

“Oh,” I say. “He’s cute though. He’s got to be yours.”

“I look just like you!” Caleb shoots back. “So if he looks like me, he looks like you too!”

“I’m not so sure about that one,” I say with a smirk. I like getting Caleb riled. It’s easy to do, and with things like this, it’s almost amusing to watch him freak out.

“You’re just scared it’s going to be you,” Terry tells me. “You have your fair share of women just like we do, and you very well could be the one who managed to get a chick pregnant.”

“Or maybe she’s one of those who’s been with more than one of us,” I say with a shrug. “That would complicate things, even for her. Maybe she doesn’t even know which of us is the real father.”

“That doesn’t mean that it’s all three of us though,” Caleb says. “Scientifically speaking, it has to be one.”

“I’m not opposed to getting a paternity test,” Terry says. “But we’re identical. Is that going to be able to tell which of us is which?”

“Doubt it,” I chime in. “But it would at least let us know for sure that we—or one of us anyway—is his father. I don’t like being suspicious of people, but you know, with us being rockstars and such, she might be scamming us.”

“What kind of messed up person scams with their own kid?” Caleb asks.

“Quite a few, I imagine,” Terry says. “And he has a point. She might just be after money, even if this is a fucked-up way of doing things. I wouldn’t mind paying child support, but I’m not about to be taken advantage of because someone wants what we have and the only way they can think to get it is by claiming one of us is a parent to her kid.”

“You sound pretty worried about him being yours yourself, you know that?” I say.

“Boys, we don’t have to worry about this. The only thing I say we have to figure out is where do we go from here?” Terry says.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“I mean are we going to give up our career for the kid?” he asks.

There’s silence in the room for a few minutes, before we all audibly agree that is about the last thing any of us would want to do.

“I say we take him on the road with us,” Caleb announces. “We can get ourselves a nanny who can take care of him most of the time, and pay her to come with us or something. Rich people do it all the time, so I don’t know why rockstars can’t.”

“We are rich people,” I reply.

“It’s settled then,” Terry says. “Wee Baby Hendrix is now part of the group!”

We applaud, and the baby starts crying. Caleb is rather clumsy, but manages to get him out of the carrier and holds him in his arms.

“This might not be so bad after all,” he says.

“As long as we get someone to do most of the work, I’m cool with it,” I confirm.

It’s just a matter of finding someone.

And quickly.

TWO

---