Playing the Player(23)

Startled, I raised my head, but before I could respond Slade launched himself off the couch and started digging through the tub of movies next to the TV. “Do you have Despicable Me?” he asked Max.

“I don’t know,” Max said. “Maybe?”

“You guys!” I yelped, jumping up from the couch. “This is not the plan. We’re going to watch the documentary.” I grabbed my binder and slammed it on the coffee table, jabbing my finger at the cover. “It’s on the schedule!”

They all stared at me, then at my binder, then back at me.

“I hate the binder!” Gillian screeched. Before I could stop her, she ran to the table, grabbed it, and took off running. Max tore after her, Spike close behind.

Slade stood up, shaking his head and laughing. “I think that’s called a mutiny. Or maybe a coup.”

“You!” I pointed at him, trembling with anger. “You’re worse than the kids. You’re supposed to be my partner, Slade.”

His laughter stopped and he spoke through a clenched jaw. “I am your partner, Trina.”

“Oh really? Is that what you call it? Flaking out at the museum? Encouraging Gillian when she did that awful puppet show? Undermining me just now when you knew we were supposed to watch a documentary?”

He stalked over to me, his eyes flashing. “And just who the hell put you in charge anyway, Trina? You haven’t listened to any of my ideas. You treat me like me I’m another kid you have to babysit.”

“Because you are!” I sounded hysterical. I hated it, but couldn’t control it. “But you’re worse, because you’re not five years old. I might as well be nannying by myself.” My chest heaved. “I wish I was.”

He jerked back as if I’d slapped him.

“Fine,” he snapped. “You want to fly solo? Do it. I’ll give my resignation today. I don’t need this crap. I can find a job where I’m not treated like a child.” He stormed out of the room and the front door slammed, rattling the china plates hanging on the kitchen wall.

I stood there trembling, clenching and unclenching my fists. Tears filled my eyes. I wanted to scream. To shatter something against the wall. I knew everything would fall apart. I knew it. But I’d felt sorry for Slade’s mom and look where it had gotten me.

Breathe, I told myself. Keep breathing.

It’s what you wanted, right? To do this on your own?

I couldn’t believe he’d just walked out. I should text Max’s mom to let her know. I pulled my phone out of my pocket, but hesitated. It could wait until she got home. It wasn’t like an emergency. I could handle the kids just fine without him.

Where were they, anyway? I pulled at my hair and started the hunt.

“Gillian? Max? Where are you?”

No response, but I heard a humming noise. Was that a vacuum cleaner? I followed the sound. Now I heard laughter mixed in with the grinding noise. Spike barked excitedly from behind the office door.

I threw open the door. Max and Gillian knelt on the floor next to a shredder, shoving paper into its noisy jaws.

“Stop!” I shrieked. “You could lose your fingers!” I rushed across the room to turn off the shredder, but it just made a horrible thunking whine when I hit the power button. They’d shoved in too many pages, and now it was jammed.

“What are you shredding anyway?” I tugged the papers out of the shredder, tormented by visions of important financial paperwork being destroyed on my watch. I smoothed the mangled page and my stomach plummeted.

Appropriate Play Behavior for Five-Year-Olds. The words swam in front of my eyes.

I stared at Max and Gillian, horrified. “My binder?” I whispered. “You shredded my binder?” I sank to the floor.

This was too much. Slade had walked out on me, and now this? My binder lay open next to the shredder, all of the pages torn out of it. Some of the paper had been hand-shredded, thrown around the room like confetti. The rest had been pulverized in the mechanical shredder.

Failure. That was me. Complete and total failure. Tears spilled down my cheeks. Spike climbed onto my lap, trying to lick my face. Then Gillian burst into a crying jag, and Max followed suit, sobs racking his tiny body.

“I’m sorry,” Gillian wailed. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.” She shoved Spike off my lap and clambered onto my crossed legs. Max joined her, forcing himself onto my lap and wailing that he was sorry, too.

“Holy cannoli, Batman. What fresh hell is this?”

We all looked up at the sound of Slade’s voice from the doorway. His gaze swept over us, taking in the mess and the still-shuddering shredder.

“You cussed,” Gilly accused him, wiping tears from her cheeks.

Slade crossed the room and sat down next to us, stretching out his long, muscular legs. I averted my gaze, and stared at Spike instead.

“What happened?” He sounded anxious, which surprised me.

I wondered if my face was all splotchy and red from crying. Not that it mattered. I closed my eyes and rested my chin on Gillian’s head.

Maybe I was the one who should resign today.

“We shredded the binder.” Max’s voice was barely audible.

I slowly opened my eyes to find Slade staring at Max like he’d just confessed to a federal crime.

“Dude,” Slade whispered. “For real?”