Page 3 of The Champion
After the grocery store, we picked up Lane so that Alleyand Spencer, Jameson’s older brother, could finish their Christmas shopping. Ialso think this was their plan to get us some parenting experience. I didn’tfeel the need to inform them of what happened to Logan’s hamster Blubber. Noone needed to know about that homicide as I was never formally charged withanything.
Lane never stopped talking—I was actually a littleworried that he hadn’t taken a breath on the way home.
“I’m hungry.” He announced when we walked into the housetossing his coat over his shoulder.
What should I feed him?
What does one feed a three-year old? What do you evenfeed babies? I really need to do some research.
I reached for Jameson’s favorite, blueberry pop tarts.You can’t go wrong with pop tarts, or can you?
“What’s pop tart?” Lane asked, appearing by my side.
Jameson lifted him up onto the counter while we bothstared at him, confused.
How could a kid not know what a pop tart was?
“What’s a—” I was in shock. “You poor child!” I pulledhim into a hug. “What kind of world are we living in when parents don’t feedtheir kids pop tarts?” I grabbed his chubby little cheeks and squeezed, hisadorable pink lips pushed together. “Please tell me you’ve at least had egowaffles?”
I let go so he could speak.
“Duh...uncle Jayeats those all the time.”
Jameson smiled ruffling his hair. “They’re fucking delicious,that’s why.”
“Jameson!” I gasped. We really needed to work on thislanguage issue we were having. “You better hope he doesn’t repeat that aroundAlley.” I whispered to Jameson handing the toasted pop tart to Lane.
“You know...” Lanebegan, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “I not say if you give me something.”
I still found it adorable when he missed words.
“Wow,” Jameson laughed lightly, his shoulders shakingwith the motion. “He learned younger than Spencer and I did.” Reaching aroundto his back pocket, he pulled a dollar out of his wallet. “Will that work?”
Lane’s eyes gleamed as he took the said dinero from him.“Yep,” and then he jumped off the counter, pop tart in hand.
A few hours later after we got everything put away,Jameson was keeping Lane busy as I prepared everything for tomorrow’sfestivities when I heard our doorbell ring.
I was not at all prepared for who was at the door.
“Look Jameson,” I swung the door open both annoyed andconcerned. “...ourneighborscame over to welcome us to theneighborhood.”
Jameson appeared around the corner with Lane on his back.
“Oh really, who—” he stopped mid step when he saw DanaSloan, his harmless, but peppy stalker fan, standing there with Cooper Young, aguy I slept with in high school. Let’s just say neither one of these people hewanted to see. Ever.
“You have to be shitting me?” Lane reached aroundJameson’s shoulder and held his hand out.
“Nope, not shitting you,” I smiled at Dana. “They madecookies. We can eat them later.”
He gave me a “hell no” look but nodded.
“How long have you two lived next door?” I asked, tryingto mask my discomfort with the entire situation.
“Oh, we just moved in about a month ago.” Dana beamed.“We’re just renting for now but we’re hoping to buy it now.” You couldn’t missthe meaning behind that.
“How long do you plan on living here?” Dana asked andthen began talking about something else and then back to another subject. Shewas all over the place. You couldn’t keep up with the speed in which her mouthwas moving. “You didn’t answer...howlong do you plan to live here?”
“We didn’t say.” Jameson replied. That was all he said.
