Trey’s eyes widened. “Baby bullet? Do I even want to know what that is?”
“It’s what you will use to blend his baby food.” Carmen searched the floor until her eyes landed on a bin of baby food. “This bin should have all the food needed to blend your own recipes. Nothing too fancy. Just sweet peas. Mashed bananas. Stuff like that. It’s not enough for two weeks, but should be enough for a week. And it needs to be refrigerated.”
Trey lifted the bin and walked to the kitchen to place it in the refrigerator. He’d only agreed about twenty minutes ago, and already, he had to remind himself why he was doing this. Carmen’s phone rang, interrupting his thoughts.
“Oops, I forgot I had this call. I have to take this.” She rushed to Trey and handed him Matthew. “I’m going to miss my baby boy. Mama loves you,” she said to her son as she showered him with kisses before answering her phone.
“This is Carmen. Can you please hold for a moment?” She glanced at Trey. “Are you good? You know you can call me anytime. In the large tote, I also left detailed instructions on everything, so you should be okay. He’s already been fed tonight and I just changed him before we arrived. Tonight should be easy since he pretty much sleeps through the night. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.”
Carmen was already out the door before Trey could formulate a response. Once they were alone in his home, Trey glanced down at the wide-eyed baby in his arms, unsure if he should be more worried about babysitting Matthew or if Matthew should be worried about him being the babysitter.
“We’ll get through this, right, M-dog?” In response, Matthew blew a couple of spit bubbles before scrunching his forehead. “What does that face mean?” Trey asked, observing his nephew a little closer. “Are you agreeing with me?”
Matthew gurgled some more bubbles before he spit up and let out a loud wail.
“Oh, hell,” Trey yelled as the spit-up ran from Matthew’s mouth down to Trey’s hand. Acting fast, Trey grabbed one of the blankets Carmen had left and began wiping off the baby’s face.
Several minutes later, Trey still couldn’t get Matthew to stop bawling. “Could this night get any worse,” he said between the wails. On cue, his iPhone rang, displaying the last name he expected to see. Reginald Moore? What does he want?
Trey answered on the fourth ring. “Hello, this is Trey.”
“Trey, this is your father. I have both your brothers on the line as well.”
Trey pulled back to look at his phone as if it were contagious. “Max and Derek both?”
Each of his brothers greeted him. Trey rarely talked to his father and both brothers, so if they were all on the line, it had to be important.
“Trey, is that a baby in the background?” Reginald asked. Trey glanced down at Matthew, who was still crying.
“Yeah, I’m babysitting my nephew. Let me put you all on a brief hold.” Acting quickly on his feet, Trey managed to configure the pop-up crib with one hand and carefully place Matthew in the middle of the crib. As soon as he popped the pacifier into his nephew’s mouth, the crying stopped.
Thank goodness. Trey glanced back at his phone, which was still on hold. One problem down. One more left. He sat on his large plush armchair that was next to the crib before resuming the conversation. “Okay, I’m back. So, tell me...what’s the purpose of this call?”
He tried to leave the bitterness out of his voice, but it had been a long few months, and a call with his father never ended well.
Reginald cleared his throat. “Now that I have all of you on the phone, there’s something very important that I need your help with.” There was a slight pause before Reginald continued. “I know I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, but I would never do anything to hurt Prescott George, and I definitely did not do anything to the San Diego chapter. Granted, it was hard for me to accept that they would be named chapter of the year, but I would never stoop so low as to sabotage them. I gave Prescott George more than twenty-five years of my life, and as I’ve stated before, someone framed me.”
Trey squeezed the bridge of his nose as his father continued to voice his innocence. Prescott George—or the Millionaire Moguls, as they were informally known—was a prestigious, all-male national organization that was as powerful as it was discreet. Until six months ago, Reginald had been a respected board member of the LA chapter of Prescott George, where his sons were also members.
After an internal investigation that proved Reginald was guilty of trying to sabotage the Prescott George San Diego chapter to keep them from winning the annual award, Reginald had been kicked out of the organization.
Trey, along with his half brothers, was horrified by the accusations and embarrassed that their father would try to harm the chances of another chapter. All of Reginald’s sons were subjected to an internal investigation to make sure they hadn’t assisted Reginald in his activities. And even though all three of them were cleared, the damage to the Moore name had already been done.
“I never believed you could be guilty, Dad,” Max said. “I agree with you. I think you were framed.”
Trey huffed into the phone. Innocent? I doubt it.
“Max, thank you for believing me,” Reginald said. “Trey. Derek. I assume your silence means you don’t believe I’m innocent. Quite frankly, I didn’t expect either of you to believe me, but my innocence isn’t the only situation I need to discuss with my boys.”
The endearment Reginald voiced was probably the first Trey had ever heard. My boys? Max was close to Reginald, so it wasn’t strange to hear him refer to Max with affection. However, Trey couldn’t recall a time when his father had ever addressed him or Derek in any sort of way that indicated he was proud to be their father.
“Haven’t you involved us in your recent situations enough?” Trey asked, finally getting over the surprise of the call. “It wasn’t enough for our character to be questioned because of this investigation, but now you suddenly decide you want to have a heart-to-heart with all your sons when you’re at your lowest?”
“I agree,” Derek said. “Our lives were turned upside down from your mistakes. I think I’ve heard enough on this phone call.”
“Just hear me out.” Reginald cleared his throat again. “It’s a little over three months before Christmas, and although I know I’m decades too late, it’s time for me to make amends. When the investigation was going on this past spring, after a while, I became too weak and tired to continue to protest my innocence. But now I can’t imagine going into the New Year with this burden on my back.”
“What are you saying?” Max asked. “Why now, Dad?”
“Because now is all I’ve got, son.” Reginald sighed. “I’ve just been informed that I have stage four prostate cancer. The doctors don’t think I will live past the New Year, and although I know my sons don’t owe me anything, I’m innocent of these crimes I’ve been convicted of. Before I die, I’d love nothing more than to clear my name, and my hope is that my sons will help me do that and preserve the Moore legacy.”
Trey sat upright in his chair. What? He’s dying? In some ways, Trey had felt like Reginald Moore would live forever, if only to remind him that he hadn’t had the benefit of growing up with a father. Reginald didn’t make Trey’s top-one-hundred list of favorite people in the world, but even he’d admit that he’d always imagined Reginald lingering somewhere close by, hoping to appear on the list one day.
“Wow,” Trey whispered, unable to take the sudden silence that filled the line. It only took a few moments for him to feel like the breath had been sucked from his lungs. Being a screenplay writer, he loved several things about films, but one of his favorite parts of a movie was the element of surprise. It was