The Boss's Son | ✅

1

Welcome, and thank you for stumbling into this story. Lean back, buckle up, and enjoy the ride.

And please don't forget to vote, comment and share. I like to hear from you. -Ava

The lady from Child Services looked at me as if I had grown a second head. "Be kind and repeat that for me. You did what?"

I took my phone out of the little one's hands and replaced it once more with one of the dolls. I had found them in the diaper bag that the man had thrust at me before he had stormed off. OK, Tony was a boy. That was a fact that I had discovered in my very first attempt at changing a diaper. That would make the doll an action figure and me thoroughly convinced that I was made for investigations and the hunt of stories, not pleasing men and raising their kids.

"The man had been on his phone or he would never have had lost track of Tony, Tony would never had been in danger of this lunatic on his bike, hightailing it on the pedestrian walk, and I would never had had a reason to become involved in this in the first place. But as it was, after rescuing him, I had Tony in my hands already and the man seemed desperate. I had the half hour to spare. I meant to go into this coffee shop to write anyway."

"Did you get much writing done?" The lady asked while she took some notes.

"No." I shook my head. My pony tail waggled like a dog's tale. Tony's little hands flew up and tried to catch it. He was like a devilish perpetuum mobile, constantly in motion, rapidly distracted and without a button to regulate the volume. "But I have now a working knowledge what the term 'sugar high' entails." The remnants of the chocolate cookie with marshmallows, I had bought Tony to keep him occupied while I planned to work, were still visible in his face and on his fingers. That's why some of my curls now stuck to his skin and I had to detangle one from the other slowly.

"Steep learning curve, eh?" The lady hid her grin not quite in time before she looked up at me again. She was laughing about me. I couldn't hold it against her. It had been a very stupid idea. Thus, I also forgave her her incredulous tone when she asked me, "So, you agreed to babysit for him?"

"He had an urgent appointment and couldn't take the boy. Tony's mother had dropped him at the man's place earlier, stating that it was the child's father's week, but he was untraceable while she had plans. And the man's girlfriend couldn't be bothered to move her ass. Let's say, I was rescuing the reputation of all women."

The lady's eyebrows rose but she spared me a comment on my feeble attempt of an explanation. "So, this," the lady looked at the ID that I had requested of the man for exactly a moment like this. No good deed went unpunished. Ever. That's why I hardly ever handed them out, and never without taking precautions. "This Gabriel Lopata was not the boy's father?"

"No. He is Tony's uncle."

"And you never met him before?"

"No. But -," I rerun the encounter in my mind. I had been almost at the coffee shop, my mind already shifting to the fantasy book I was writing, that would make more sense than reality often did. Unfortunately, my progress with it was slow given that any news story had priority over it. I only caught sight of Tony and the bicycle rider from the corner of my eye, about the same time that his uncle did. But all he could do was scream his name. I had been closer and had pulled him away. After that everything happened very fast. It had been over in no time or I would have thought. And thinking would have stopped me from saying yes. But the man had slipped through the side door into the hotel before my mind had set in. Yet, thinking about it now there was something odd that had made me say yes easier. "When he addressed me, he used my name."

"So, he did know you?" The woman almost pierced her paper when her pen landed on it with a thud.

"He knew my name. That's not too uncommon."

"You're famous or something?" The woman looked at me over her glasses as if a different perspective at me would give her more insight.

I shrugged my shoulders. Lately I had held my face in a couple of cameras. "In certain circles, maybe. I'm a journalist."

"Of course, that's you," the woman exclaimed a moment later, her eyes going wide. "Oh, I loved how you kicked that scumbag of councilman's ass. Tell me he will go to jail."

"Didn't you hear? He committed suicide or so they say. It ended all the investigations. And that when I was this close," I lifted my hand to show a millimeter distance between my thumb and forefinger. Tony took it as invitation to grab at it and seize my fingers. "To tracing the money, he received, back to its real source. Very convenient." What I didn't mention was that I thought there was a mafia connection buried deep under layers and layers of money transfers. It hadn't been a problem so far in the town, not that anyone knew or wanted to know. I had hinted at the possibility a couple of times already at other instances and ever only harvested wry looks. This woman already thought I was crazy. Well, it was a bit better now that she had realized who I was.

"I am glad you uncovered the councilman's doings though," the woman tried to console my thinker pout as my friends called it. It could easily be mistaken for a pouty pout of annoyance in her defense. "They cut our money more and more, putting children at risk because we are short-staffed and overworked while he accepted hundreds of thousands for decisions; money that went into his pockets." She looked down at her notes and shook her head. "This here is a mess, too. But at least we have names."

"What happens now?" I was curious. I had no business even thinking about keeping the kid, nevertheless he had grown on me.

"I'll take Tony. First, I will try to locate his parents. What follows depends on what I find. Best would be, it was all just a misunderstanding and I can put him back with his family. Otherwise, I will need to put him in emergency foster care for now and he will be entered into the system."

My phone made itself felt. It was a reminder that I had set in case that I would become too absorbed in my writing. I couldn't miss the hairdresser, not with the banquet waiting for me that night. A friend of mine, Mike Winter, had begged me to accompany him.

Mike was a brilliant mind, at his age not just a professor already, but something of an institution in the history department. The department had suffered a severe blow a few days ago, when a priceless manuscript, nobody should have known was in their possession at that moment, had been stolen from an unmarked high security warehouse that they used under these circumstances. So shortly after, the department needed to rebuild trust and make up for losses, it would surely suffer after the incidence.

Collectors were sensitive creatures. For a while they would now avoid Mike's department and search out others to grant them certificates of authenticity for their treasured items. Thus, Mike hadn't just agreed to attend, but had agreed against all his convictions not to take his husband so that he wouldn't affront any conservative backers. He didn't want to go alone though, and I owed him a favor or two.

I looked from Tony who had my phone in his hands again, to the lady from child services. "You still need me for any of that?"

She looked through her notes. "I have what I need from you. I contact you in the improbably case that more questions come up."

"Contact me as well if any expenses need to be covered or Tony needs something. You know what," I pulled out a check and filled it out. "Take this for him. If his parents pick him up immediately, use the money for your department. You will know best what to do with it. I have your card and will forward the info to a friend. Maybe she can draw some more attention to your underfunding."

The lady took the slip of paper and looked at it. "That's generous of you."

"No need to talk about it. Just take care of the little one. Oh, and he doesn't need any sugar for the next couple of years. I took care of that at least."

"Ha!" the woman laughed and drank the last of her coffee that I had bought for her.

I took my bag, slid mynotebook inside, extricated my phone from Tony's hands, ran my hand once moreover his head, and left. Outside the coffee shop I took a deep breath. So, thatwas over. Never again, I swore myself. And I would need to find myself adifferent writing nook after this performance.