Page 17 of Mister Mom

Vance scribbled his number on the script before he left yesterday, but it’s only seven in the morning. Could he be the type who wakes up early to work out? I wouldn’t doubt it with the way his clothes hugged his body yesterday. Or maybe he stays out all night partying and sleeps half the day away. For some reason I find myself disappointed at that thought.

Flipping my phone over and over again, I chew on the inside of my cheek. I have to get rid of this ridiculous smile, but this could be the role that changes my pigeon-holed path in this industry. So long romantic comedies and hello dramas! My gaze lingers on the room around me. Payne’s toys piled in the corner. Via’s hair bow and sippy cup from yesterday lying on the table. My smile fades because I remember that I don’t have a nanny to watch Payne for the next three weeks—or this next film.

Via can continue to go to daycare, but Payne was kicked out two months ago. I was going to take a break after this role and spend time with the kids before Payne starts kindergarten. I should delay this part in Vance’s film, pass on it, but God, it’s my breakthrough role, I’m positive. I can feel it. Doing this film will change my life for the better.

Without thinking of repercussions, I look into the family room to make sure Via is still playing there and then flip my phone around, thumb through my contacts and click the call button.

It rings. And rings.

My fingers caress the script. Such magnificent work.

“Hello?” Carver answers and bile rises in my throat like it does every time I hear my soon-to-be ex-husband’s voice.

“Carver.”

“Layla? Are Payne and Via okay?” His tone is more inquisitive than worried.

“Is this the part where you act like a caring father?”

Sue me, okay? He might pay his child support but he has pretty much zero presence in their day-to-day lives.

“So, this is how the conversation is going to go?” I hear the flick of his lighter.

“Still smoking?”

The sound of him exhaling sounds through the receiver and I realize I don’t really need an answer.

“Why are you calling?” he snaps.

An empty and hollow laugh leaves my mouth. “Funny thing. I decided it’s time you actually care about and for your kids.”

He sighs. “Layla, I gotta get back on set. What’s going on?”

“I have a part that I need you to come home for. I’m tapping out and you need to tap in.”

“Why are we talking boxing lingo?” Another inhale.

“Carver, you need to come back. When is your movie done filming?”

He sighs again. “I’m done here next week, but I got another offer for an upcoming film another actor dropped out of because he had to go to rehab. I’ll be in Florida for eight weeks.”

My hand slams down on the table. “Carver, I need your help here.”

“Get a nanny.”

My teeth grind together and I ball my hands into fists. “Do you think I haven’t tried that? He’s gone through six.”

“Well, surely there are more than six nannies in all of LA. I mean, no one really watches their kids themselves in that city.”

“Six this week. He went through two in one day.” I hear the creak of the hardwood floors behind me and my shoulders fall.

I turn to see Payne standing there in his ninja pajamas, wearing a Hulk mask. Although I can’t see his eyes, he’s not his usual energetic self this morning. I hold my arm out for him to come to me.

“Do you want to talk to Payne? He just woke up.”

I hear the director in the background, but Carver’s the lead, surely he can ask them to hold on a second.

“I’ll call tonight, I gotta go.”

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