Like a Boss - Annabelle Costa Page 0,87
outburst when my cell phone rings. I see Theo’s number on the screen and consider not answering. I’m not in the mood for Theo right now. Well, I’m never in the mood for Theo, but especially not now. But then again, it will be a break from the monotony of this ride and Lily’s screaming.
“Hello?” I answer.
“Hey, Bailey,” he says. “I was just thinking about taking Lily out for dinner tonight. Maybe we could go see Catdog.”
“Dogcat,” I correct him, although I’m not sure why.
“Sure—that,” Theo says.
“Too late,” I say. “I already took her last weekend after you bailed.”
“Fine,” Theo says. “I’ll take her to some other movie.”
“Sorry,” I say, even though I don’t feel at all sorry. “We’re taking a trip to Maryland for the week. We’re actually almost there.”
“What?” Theo has a temper. It’s one of the many, many things I’ve come to dislike about him. And it’s flaring up right now. “You never told me you were taking Lily to Maryland!”
“It didn’t even occur to me that you’d care,” I reply honestly.
“You’re supposed to tell me when you take Lily on a trip!”
“Yeah, well, you’re supposed to pay me child support.”
Theo snorts. “Are you trying to shame me, Bailey? You know I pay what I can.”
Yeah, and that’s apparently nothing.
“Look,” I say, “I don’t know what to tell you, Theo. We’re nearly in Baltimore.”
“Are you going with some guy?” he growls. “Is that what this is about?”
Ha. That’s so far from the truth, it’s depressing. But I’m not going to tell him about my father and offer any window into my life.
“It’s none of your business,” I say.
“The hell it’s not!” Theo yells. “Lily is my daughter! You can’t just jet her off wherever you want with your… your man-whore!”
Back when Theo and I were married, I had to listen to him scream his head off at me when his temper was flaring. Fortunately, we’re not married anymore. So I can click the “end” button and our conversation is over. He calls me back immediately, but I put my phone on “silent” and shove it back in my purse. If only I could temporarily put Lily on “silent,” this would be a great trip.
I hear the conductor announcing overhead that the next stop is Baltimore. I breathe a sigh of relief. “How are we getting to the cabin?” I ask my father. “Do we need to call a taxi?”
Dad shakes his head as the train whistle sounds overhead. “Gwen’s son is picking us up at the station.”
“The son’s here?” I imagined that Gwen’s son was lending us an empty cabin to stay in. I didn’t know we were going to have to share it with the son and likely his family. Fabulous.
Dad nods. “I haven’t met him either, so Gwen thought this would be a nice introduction for everyone. He sounds like a nice kid.”
Kid? How old is this guy? Old enough to drive and old enough to own a place in Manhattan and a cabin in Maryland. Of course, my father probably still refers to me as a kid, so for all I know, this guy could be fifty.
“How are we supposed to know it’s him?” I ask. “Is he going to be holding up one of those big signs that says, ‘CHAPIN’?”
He laughs. “Maybe. I don’t know—I didn’t ask her. Apparently, he thinks he’ll be able to find us.”
The train skids to a halt at the Baltimore station. I stand up, stretching out the crick in my neck from the long ride. Lily leaps out of her seat and smooths out the dress she’s chosen to meet her new step-grandmother-to-be. The dress has a lot of cats on it. And when I say that, you might be imagining a dress that has three or four cats on it, so let me rescue you from that delusion. Every inch of this dress is covered in multicolored pictures of cats. It’s almost dizzying how many cats are on her dress. There’s got to be, like, fifty of them. It’s her favorite dress.
“Come on, Lily,” I say as I grab my duffel bags down from the compartment above the seats. My father was bright enough to purchase luggage on wheels, but I was apparently not. All our clothes and supplies for the week are stuffed into these two giant bags. Well, aside from the few things I fit into Lily’s miniscule backpack. I hope Gwen’s son is strong and likes carrying luggage.
We dismount the train, my father holding