“Oh dear Lord,” my guest screeches in horror, forcing my eyes away from my wet t-shirt to the couple standing at my door. The woman is immaculately dressed in linen pants and a deep navy, cowl neck, short sleeve shirt that matches her leather pumps. Her blonde hair perfectly drawn away from her face, fixed in a stylish braid, her face had minimal make-up. She didn’t need make-up, a natural beauty that didn’t have a wrinkle on her flawless skin. If I had to guess she was in her early fifties and that’s only judging by the man with graying hair that stood beside her, dressed in a three-piece suit.
I was used to the suit thing, my brother had spent most of his life hanging around mobsters dressed just like the man before me, but it was clear this guy wasn’t from that life. No these two people weren’t part of the get rich or die trying lifestyle, they were born wealthy; it was in their DNA.
What I didn’t get was why the hell they were here, looking at me and my son as if we were aliens.
“Can I help you?”
Mrs. Fancy Pants opened her mouth but Mr. Three-Piece Suit was the one who actually spoke.
“We’re looking for Robert Montgomery,” he declares, clearing his throat as he raises an eyebrow at Eric who is picking food out of my hair and flicking it at them.
“Riggs isn’t home,” I reply, swatting Eric’s hand from my hair as I narrow my eyes at the couple. What the hell did he get himself into now?
“Riggs? What is a Riggs?” The woman questions.
The man inches closer to the woman’s ear.
“That’s his alias,” he informs her.
“I’m sorry, who are you people?” I ask gritting my teeth as my son pulls on my hair.
“We’re Robert’s parents and you must be the girl he impregnated. Is this the child?”
I didn’t even have a chance to dwell on the whole impregnated thing as my eyes bulged and threatened to fall from their sockets. Oh my God! These people were Riggs’ parents. Here I was with pee on my shirt, spaghetti in my hair and a naked baby on my hip.
Yeah, their son really struck gold with me.
I was the pick of the litter.
“Oh my God! I’m sorry, please come in,” I say, moving aside and glancing over my shoulder at the apartment. For fuck’s sake it looked like a tornado hit the place. Then I remembered what I looked like, talk about a twister.
They carefully step foot inside the apartment, stepping over toys and whatever else was lying on the floor. I watch as Riggs’ dad stares down at his shoes and my bra that lay beside his fancy loafer.
I shake my head, bending down to snatch the bra and sheepishly smile at my—in laws?
What a nightmare.
I try to balance Eric in my arms as he tries to wiggle free from them, reaching out to his grandparents.
“I’m Lauren,” I say hopelessly, forcing a smile as I glance at Eric and my hope becomes restored. These people came here to meet their grandson, they don’t care about what the house looks like or what I look like for that matter. I smile genuinely as I turn to Riggs’ parents.
“And this little guy is Eric,” I introduce. “Eric, say hi to grandma and grandpa.”
Riggs’ dad coughs or maybe he was choking. I couldn’t be sure but his mother looked as if she was having a stroke. Her whole face turned red like a tomato, and the drop out nurse within surfaced, knowing that was a sure sign of high blood pressure.
“Mr. Montgomery, can I get you a glass of water?”
The man continues to hack up a lung, and I extend my son into his grandmother’s arms.
“Hold him a second while I get him a glass of water,” I insist, placing Eric into her arms and watch as she holds him at arm’s length. “He doesn’t bite,” I add before taking off for the kitchen.
Well, except for that one time when he bit my leg and drew blood. I grab the first cup I see, a Mickey Mouse sippy cup and fill it with water. I didn’t bother screwing on the cap with the crazy straw, something tells me these people are the type who use the fancy crystal my mother only breaks out on holidays.
At that moment, Riggs comes barreling through the front door as I turn around.
“Kitten, I’m home!” He calls, kicking the door closed as he continues to look at something on his phone. “And I’m fucking horny as—” I cringe as the words fly from his mouth and thrust the cup toward Mr. Montgomery, spilling it all over the front of his suit.
“What the ever-living fuck is this?” Riggs stammers.
“Riggs! Language,” I scold, eying our son.
Mrs. Montgomery gasps as she peers over Eric’s shoulder and looks at her son for what I assume is the first time in years.
“What the hell did you do to yourself?” She shrieks.
Riggs pulls his sunglasses off and closes the distance between him and his mother, taking Eric from her before turning toward me.
“Are you off your rocker? Why did you let them in here?”
“You’re covered in tattoos!” His mother declares.
“They’re your parents what was I supposed to do? Slam the door in their face?”
“Yes, absolutely!” He hisses, shifting Eric into his other arm. “Are you okay? They didn’t try to sell you to the highest bidder did they?” He asks our son, examining him thoroughly before looking back and forth between his mother and father.
“Robert,” Mr. Montgomery starts, clearing his throat as he wrings out his suit jacket.
“Riggs, my name is Riggs,” he corrects, gritting his teeth.