“I wanna go!”
Andy looked over the toddler-sized bed and Emily at Cadell. Emily’s bedsheets and comforter were sparkly pink. The walls were sparkly pink. The furniture was sparkly pink. Andy had thought that she was inside a stomach for an instant, the stomach of someone who had swallowed glitter.
“I wanna go!” Emily squealed again.
She sighed, and Cadell was resting his hand on top of his head. Both of them were exasperated at this point. Andy said, yet again, “You can’t go tonight, sweetie. It’s a bar. Children are not allowed in bars.”
“I wanna go!”
“I can record it on my phone,” Cadell said. “You can watch it tomorrow.”
“I wanna see Daddy play! I never get to see Daddy play the guitar when he’s really playing. It’s always later.”
Cadell pulled his hair back from his eyes with both hands. “It’s the best I can do, baby.”
“Dr. Andy, will you take me?” Emily wheedled, kicking her legs in her pink nightgown. “I won’t sleep and I won’t eat until you take me!”
“I’m her doctor, not a nanny,” Andy told Cadell. “You’re her father.”
Insinuation: you spoiled her, you deal with her.
“Yeah, well.” He shrugged. “When most kids want vanilla pudding for supper, you tell them to eat their grilled chicken and steamed broccoli because it’s good for them and will make them grow up strong. When Emily wants vanilla pudding for supper, we eat vanilla pudding for supper because life is short, and it might be very short.”
No wonder the nannies left. “You eat vanilla pudding for supper?”
Cadell slapped his flat stomach and ran his fingers over his tee shirt. His fingers jumped over the ridges of his abdominal muscles under the cotton. “Hasn’t hurt me any.”
Damn it. Maybe Andy needed to eat less vegetarian korma and go straight for the vanilla pudding. “It’s unfair. You didn’t get your degree, and you’re successful in your field. You eat pudding for supper, and you look like that.”
“Like what?” He grinned.
She gestured toward his abdominal region. “Emily watches your videos all the time. You take your shirt off at every concert. I know what’s under there.”
Abs like the ripples on a lake. Curving muscles like an Arabian show horse. Arms and shoulders like a boxer.
“So you’re looking.” Cadell grinned more.
“Emily wants me to watch the videos with her. So when I have a break, I do.”
“So you spoil her, too.”
“That’s neither here nor there—”
“I wanna see Daddy’s concert!” Emily yelled, figuring out that she was being ignored.
“But you can’t, my darling,” Andy said. “It’s at a place where they don’t allow children, any children at all, no matter what. Maybe someday I can take you to one of Daddy’s real concerts if you promise to wear ear protection.”
“I wanna see this one tonight! Even if it’s on the phone!”
“Baby, I’m sorry, but you can’t go,” Cadell was saying.
“How about if you live-streamed it?” Andy asked. “You could just set up your phone, and she could watch it on her tablet?”
“It won’t work! It never works! He always knocks it over!” Emily yelled.
Cadell shrugged. “We’ve tried it. I’m a klutz. I can’t stop playing in the middle of a song to pick it up.”
“You didn’t notice for five whole songs!”
“Performing is strenuous,” he said.
“How about if I go,” Andy said. “It’s a club. I’ll sit at a table and hold the phone so Emily can see your show. The new nanny is here tonight.”
Cadell cocked his head to the side. “You’d come to one of my shows?”
“I’ve always been curious what one is like. A club might be a good introduction, rather than a stadium or something loud.”
Emily started cheering, her shrill little voice screeching above theirs. “And then you’ll both come home?”
“Yes,” she said, “we’ll both come home.” Cadell had shown Andy to a guest bedroom across a hallway from Emily’s room and down the hall from his. She had gathered a few things and moved in, unsure what the time frame was. Might be a few days. Might be a few weeks. She had told her parents that she was going to stay with a girlfriend in the City for a while and would be on her cell phone if they needed to contact her.
“Have you ever been to a concert?” Cadell asked Andy.
“Oh, yes. Lots of them. I’ve attended several of Zakir Hussain’s concerts, and I’ve seen Vikku Vinayakram play numerous times.”
“Who the heck is that?”
“A world-class ghatam player, a percussionist. He won a Grammy.”
“Like, drums?”
“A ghatam is a large clay pot. It is a classical instrument.”
Cadell’s smile drooped. “Have you ever been to a rock concert?”
“Oh.” Andy couldn’t find anything to do with her hands, so they flopped stupidly while she tried to think of something to say. “A rock concert. Well, Vikku is very animated. You should see him in concert sometime.”
Cadell raised one eyebrow. “I’ll try to get to one.”