simtarts

Bo usually liked seeing a man flat on his back, and this case was no different. On slow nights it was amusing to see how many clueless, out-of-shape men tried to tackle the Spin-a-tron on the "hard" setting, only to find themselves hurled violently from the contraption.

"That looks like it hurt," she said, smiling just a little. She thought it was good if men were reminded that they weren't invincible from time to time.

The man turned his head slightly and stared at her bare legs. "I'm fine," he announced. "Never been better!"

"Of course." She looked away to hide her smirk.

The man stood up, and only then did Bo get a good look at his face. Even in the dim, neon lights, there was something familiar about it. What was it...?

"Your ears!" she exclaimed. "They're pointy. And your eyes, too, they're the exact same color..."

"As Edward Cullens? I know, I know, I get that all the time."

"No, they're just like...you wouldn't happen to have a younger brother, would you?"

"Wait a second," the man said, his eyes narrowing. "You must be that slutty blond that Luke's been scoring with! Geez, he didn't mention in his journal that you were fat."

"I'm pregnant," Bo said.

"So? That's a crappy excuse."

Resisting the urge to knee him in the groin, Bo forced the conversation back to the subject at hand. "Your brother's name is Luke, then? Can you take me to see him? It's really important."

"I guess I could, but why should I?" The man crossed his arms over his chest.

Bo smiled to herself. This would be easy.

She leaned into him, her lips hovering just inches away from his own. His breath smelled like he had been eating spaghetti. "I could make it worth your while," she trilled in a whisper, her fingertips grazing the side of his arm.

He swallowed thickly. "Okay, that sounds good."

Luke's house was on the North Beach side of town, a little sea shanty barely big enough for one person, let alone three. Looking around, Bo saw at once that there would never be room for a baby in addition to all of the bachelors.

Luke was on the futon talking to a red-head who must have been his other brother. He was so involved in his conversation about construction workers' rights that he didn't even notice when Bo waddled into the middle of his sitting room.

And then he did notice. He looked up at Bo, his eyes meeting hers and then lighting up in happy recognition.

And then, inevitably, his gaze traveled downward and came to rest on the obvious and bulging swell of Bo's abdomen. With that, his mouth fell open in disbelief.

"Hi," Bo said, feeling uncharacteristically bashful. "I don't know if you remember me or that night... it was at Club P.U.R.E and we sort of had an encounter in the photobooth."

"I remember!" Luke said, bounding to his feet. "I wish I would have gotten your name. I wish I would have..." he trailed off, staring at her stomach. A swallow jumped in his throat.

"So," he began, his words carefully measured. "Either you've got a beach ball under your dress or you're pregnant."

"Door number two," Bo said.

"Right. And I suppose you're here to tell me that it's mine? I mean, unless there's another reason why you're here?" He shuffled awkwardly from foot to foot.

Luke's obvious display of nerves only served to irritate Bo, and she didn't bother to hide her scowl. "What other reason would I have for being here? You think that since you're my baby-daddy I've only shown up to ask you for money for our 'shorty?'"

"What? That's not what I--"

"Nevermind." Bo waved a hand at him, her smile bitter. "I just thought you might want to know that you're going to be a father. It's a pretty big thing for some people." She shrugged. "But not for everyone. You don't have to be in the kid's life if you don't want to be, but it only seems right to give you the choice. I'm not here to take anything from you."

She expected him to look relieved. That's how most of them looked after she gave them the news and an easy way out.

What she didn't expect was for him to crouch over and gently touch her stomach, his gaze filled with wonder.

"I'm going to be a father?" he said aloud, though it was clear he didn't expect anyone to answer. "That's really my baby in there?"

"Well it's mine, too," Bo said, her voice low and a little wonder-struck itself.

"Our baby," he said. "We have a baby!" He pulled a ridiculous face, then grinned wide, as if the unborn child could see him. "Hi baby!"

It was supremely corny, but Bo found it difficult to stop smiling.

When he stood up and embraced her, Bo didn't stop him. "I'll give you anything you need," he said, and she could see that he meant it.

"I don't need anything," she said, a little defiant. "We should talk more, I guess, but I'm too exhausted right now. Can you come over to my house tomorrow afternoon?"

He said yes, and they made arrangements to meet at Marilyn's house after lunch. Then he insisted on calling her a cab, which was good since her feet were aching all the way up to her hips.

As she went outside to wait for her cab, Bo saw Luke's oldest brother looking through the backyard telescope.

"Hey," she called, approaching him. "It's Chewie, right?"

"That's right, babe. You finished with Luke?"

"For now. Thanks for bringing me over, though. I really needed to find him."

Chewie reached out to caress her hand. "No problem. Now I believe we had a deal, didn't we? You said if I brought you here you'd make it worth my while." He gave her a wide grin that he probably thought made him look roguish.

"Sorry," she said, gently moving his hand away. "I can't do that to Luke."

"You meant you've gotten together with him? Just because you're knocked up?" Chewie blinked in astonishment.

"We're not together, but it still wouldn't be right." She shrugged in half-hearted apology and walked away, leaving him to his telescope.

If Bo's actions were a surprise to Chewie, they were an even bigger surprise to her. She didn't owe Luke anything--they barely even knew each other. Chewie was willing and most likely able, so why didn't she take him up on his offer? Luke didn't have to know, did he?

But she would still know. And that was enough to make her mind her manners. It wouldn't be right to sleep with her unborn baby's Uncle.

When Bo exited the cab, she was surprised to find her Mother outside, lingering near the mailbox.

"Hi Ma," she said wearily, massaging the small of her back. "What are you doing out here?"

"Waiting for you, sugardrop. You look plumb tuckered out! Must be all these weight you've put on up front," she said, spreading her hands in front of Bo's stomach.

Bo managed a weak smile. "It's not weight, Ma. It's a baby."

Marilyn stood up and fixed Bo with an uncharacteristically cold look.

"Come on, Ma, you had to suspect..."

"I did," Marilyn said, then turned around and walked into the house.

Bo knew that her Mother was unhappy with her, but their relationship must not have suffered any permanent damage because she was still able to sneak into her Mother's bed that night. The tiny bed she had slept in during her teen years just wasn't comfortable enough for her now that she was into the third trimester of her pregnancy.

By breakfast, Marilyn was finally speaking to her.

"You know, Bo, if you didn't sleep around town so much, WooHooing with anything that breathes or burps, maybe you wouldn't be in such a pickle, hmm?"

"I wasn't sleeping around, Ma," Bo said. An idea started to form in her mind. "I met someone, actually. We're not serious or anything, but he's so smart and clever that I actually asked him if he would father a child with me. So even if you're sorry that I'm pregnant, I'm not."

With that, Bo blew on her hot poptart and waited for her Mother's response.

"If he's so smart and clever, what's he do for a living? Is he one of those drug pushers, like Usher's Daddy?"

"No, he's got a University degree and he's working his way up the Adventurer ladder," Bo said, feeling smug as she watched her Mother's expression change.

"Well in that case, maybe he'd like to pay up for the new baby's crib, diapers, and toys!" Marilyn said brightly.

Bo sighed inwardly. She'd seen Luke's house with her own eyes and knew he had a lot less money than the Trammpe family did.

Bo assumed that was the case, but the truth of the matter was that Marilyn had good reason to be concerned with finances.

Her bank account, which had been funded for the thirty years by various wills from her parents and former husbands, had dwindled down to less than 500 simoleons.

And the bills just kept coming.

Marilyn paid what little she could--just enough to cover the minimum until the next bill came. Just enough to keep them from turning off the water or the lights.

For the first time in her life, she was faced with the inevitability of applying for a job.

A lowly, menial job.

She scanned the newspaper several times a day looking for something that would suit her personality. She thought being a hostess in a fancy restaurant might really butter her bread; restaurant hostesses were always older, classy women, and she could just see herself leading a young couple to their table and pulling out their chairs for them. She was a natural-born hostess, after all!

Unfortunately, it seemed that even hostesses were required to have some restaurant experience, so Marilyn was forced to take a job as a dishwasher. She hadn't told Bo about it, and didn't plan to. She would just say she was going to the salon for a facial. (Not that she could afford a facial, but again, Bo needn't know that!)

Luke arrived promptly at one o'clock, and Bo greeted him with a friendly (but only friendly) kiss on the cheek.

"Come inside," she said, opening the front door for him. "I'd like you to meet my mother."

"Ma," Bo said, rousing Marilyn from her afternoon lounge on the sofa. "This is Luke. I told you about him this morning, remember?"

"Oh," Marilyn said, coming to her feet with wide eyes. "So you're the smart and clever man who's put my daughter in this delicate condition?"

"Uh, yes, I believe so," Luke said, blushing a fierce crimson.

"Ma," Bo complained, and Marilyn just sashayed away, going up to her Red Wine Room for a drink.

"Don't mind her," she said to Luke. "She's just a little upset that I'm pregnant again."

"That's understandable, I guess," Luke said. He tilted his head in sympathy, his newly permed hair catching the light.

"You know, don't take this the wrong way but...wasn't your hair better when we first met?"

"Yes," Luke said, wringing his hands together a little. "I went to a professional salon and everything, but it isn't very good, is it? I feel kind of like a--"

"A clown?" Bo supplied, and Luke nodded. "Come with me," she said, grabbing his hand and leading him out onto the back porch.

"I can't believe you have a stylist's chair," Luke said as she adjusted the height of the seat.

"It was my high-school graduation gift," Bo said. "I always meant to become a great makeup artist, but I didn't get very far. Boys got in the way."

"So what you're saying is you don't have any experience?"

"Not a bit," she admitted. "So you're going to have to trust me here."

"Okay," Luke said, grinning. "You can't make it any worse, anyway."

With a deep breath and a whispered prayer, Bo's scissors started flying.

"What do you think?" she asked, handing him a mirror.

He studied the finished cut from all angles, smiling broadly. "It looks good! Just like it did before. Only...there's something a little different, isn't there?"

She nodded. "Just a few extra layers."

"I like it," he said, laughing his approval. "You're really talented, Bo."

He was so nice. Was he always so nice?

Bo wondered if he was just being that way because he had a crush on her.

If he even did have a crush on her. He was so painfully shy that it was hard to tell.

They lounged on Marilyn's bed so that Bo could rest her back. Cutting Luke's hair had kept her on her feet for too long.

They chatted a bit about ordinary things, like Luke's upbringing in Strangetown, and Bo's time spent on the High School cheerleading team. Luke told her his favorite food was Indian, while Bo revealed that hers was plain, old-fashioned macaroni and cheese. "I'm a traditionalist," she explained.

"You have other kids, don't you," Luke said, changing the subject with ease.

"Two, a boy and a girl."

"What happened to their fathers?"

"Who knows?" Bo said, a smile playing at her lips. "They were real creeps. Monsters, basically. They didn't really stick around after either of the kids were born."

"That's awful."

"That's life," Bo corrected. "Anyway, I think Beyonce's out on the balcony if you want to meet her.

"Beyonce?"

Bo nodded. "My oldest. My daughter."

"Oh wow, you play chess?" Luke said, watching Beyonce arrange the pieces across the board.

"I'm the only one who does," Beyonce said. "Who are you?"

"I'm your Mom's friend." He said, giving Bo a look that had silent laughter in it.

"Do you want to play?"

"Sure, sure I do."

Bo left them alone to get acquainted; she was in dire need of a snack and a nap--preferably in that order.

Luke and Beyonce played chess for a long time, and were interrupted only once when Marilyn came out to watch.

It wasn't clear whether she approved of Luke more or less as a result of his chess skills; she only watched in silence for a few minutes before disappearing back into the house.

If was probably good that she wasn't there when Luke chewed Beyonce out for cheating, though!

It didn't seem to ruin their budding acquaintanceship, however, and soon enough Luke became a regular guest at the Trammpe household.

Bo thought it was probably good that her kids had a man to talk to. A "male father figure," as the psychologists said. Bo wasn't the greatest role-model herself, and she knew it. But Luke, he was someone they could look up too.

"Do you want a beer with dinner?" Usher asked one evening. Usher's Daddy had been a big drinker, a violent drinker; Bo was surprised that he even remembered that much about him, but apparently he did.

"No, I don't drink beer, really," Luke said.

"Why not?"

Luke gave Bo a quick smile. "Your Mom can't have a beer right now, so I won't have one, either."

Bo's kids weren't the only ones who looked up to Luke.

Bo had never met a man who asked her about books before. Men usually only asked her what color her panties were.

Of course, she didn't read many books in the first place, but still, it was nice to be asked about them as if she did. It was nice to be acknowledged for her brain and not just her breasts, even if her breasts were probably the more impressive of the two.

Marilyn was a little lacking the brains department, too. On her first day of work as a dishwasher, Marilyn wore her favorite skin-tight dress, a full set of spanx, and her highest pair of high heels.

"Life looks better when I look good!" was her justification. She didn't see why she should have to wear sweats and sneakers just to wash a few forks and spoons.

Within a few hours, Marilyn was fired. She'd been so fussy about dishpan hands and her sore feet that she'd taken three ten-minute breaks in a row. All the sweet-talk in the world wasn't able to get her the job back, either; not after the manager discovered her re-applying her lipstick in front of a chrome toaster after he'd deliberately told her not to.

Bo was clueless to her Mother's struggles. She was too busy doing the job that she did best.

She figured might as well get in as many men as she could now, while she couldn't get pregnant.

She never told Luke about her need for constant and plentiful WooHoo, but he wasn't an idiot; he had to have put two and two together by now. Still, he never brought it up and never showed any signs of judging her. Bo appreciated that.

He wasn't her lover, but he was by far her favorite person. What she had said to her Mother turned out to be true: Luke was the only person she had ever wanted to have a child with.

"So what are we doing tonight?" Luke asked, throwing his coat on the sofa. "Chess again? Or another mac n' cheese feast?"

"We're celebrating Beyonce's birthday," Bo said. "She's transitioning into a teen tonight."

"She is? And you invited me?"

"Of course, dummy. You're one of our best friends." She meant my best friends, but she couldn't quite say it. A tight feeling gnawed at her stomach. All day long, she'd been having a low, crampy sort of pain. She was still a few weeks away from her due date, so it probably wasn't anything but the burrito she'd had for lunch.

After a birthday dinner (mac 'n cheese), they all gathered around to blow horns and wave noisemakers while Beyonce said a silent wish, then blew out her candles.

And just like that, Beyonce wasn't a little girl anymore.

Before Bo even had a chance to give her daughter a hug and ask her about her aspiration in life, a fierce, gripping cramp ripped across her abdomen.

She knew this feeling--knew it all too well.

"Luke!" she said, screaming despite the fact that he was only heading to the bathroom. "Call a taxi! I'm ninety-nine percent--" she gasped and clutched herself "--no, make that one-hundred percent sure that our baby's coming!"

****

CLIFFHANGERS. The Strapping family is next.