17.
Ian
The next morning I was distracted, thinking about Daisy, as I was getting ready for work. I was sitting there at the breakfast table, eating a bowl of cereal, replaying the sex in my mind. It had been hard to wait, that day we went out on the boat—I’d wanted to do her right then and there—but I was big into delayed gratification, so I made her wait. And it had been worth it. More than worth it. It was, of course, making myself wait, too, and my dick had been at about half mast ever since, her being the only thing that I could really think about. That’s exactly what I was thinking about when my phone started going off; I reached over and picked it up without looking at the screen.
“Ian! Finally! Why haven’t you been answering my
calls?”
I let out a big sigh, right into the microphone, so Annie would probably have
to pull the phone away from her ear, it’d be so loud on her end.
“I’ve been busy. I also thought I told you that I’m
frankly not interested in having anything to do with you anymore. It didn’t
have to be that way, but you knew from the beginning that it was casual, what
we had between us.”
“Who’s the new girl you’ve got working for you? I called; a woman answered. I
know you’ve hired my replacement.”
“Of course we did. What did you think—I’d start answering the phones there myself? That we’d erect some sort of shrine to you because you were no longer employed there? Give me a fucking break.”
“It was fast, is all I’m saying.”
“At the end of the day, we’re a business, so yeah, we’re going to hire a replacement when there’s a vacancy.”
“I bet she’s hot. Probably not as hot as I am,
though.”
“You are hot,” I said. “But you’re also insecure and clingy. And don’t know how
to let a good thing last.”
“It’s probably against some sort of law to be sleeping with your employees, you know. You fuck this new one yet?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“But you’re going to.” I could hear the jealousy in her voice.
“You turning green over there?”
“Actually, I am, but not green with envy. Green with nausea.”
“Well, I’m sorry to hear that. Go have some ginger ale and lie down.”
“You don’t want to know why I’m nauseous?”
“I’m not interested in playing games with you.”
But I knew what she was going to say, and I started feeling a little nauseous myself. Why did I pick up the phone? Why was I still on it right now?
“I’m pregnant,” she said.
“Bullshit.”
“Would you like me to text you a picture of the test I
just took?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Well, I’m sitting right here, looking at it, and
there are definitely two pink lines. And my period’s late. And you shouldn’t
act so surprised. How many of those times did you wear a condom?”
My hand tightened around the phone, my shoulders rising up toward my ears. “Are
you fucking kidding me?” I said. “I wore a condom once or twice. I stopped wearing a condom because you
told me you were on the fucking pill!” (Also because I hated wearing condoms to begin with, but she didn’t need to
know that).
“I am on the
pill. But it’s not one hundred percent.”
I closed my eyes and rubbed my free hand across them. What a load of shit. “So
what are you going to do?” I said. “What are you thinking?”
There was a pause. I knew Annie had already decided what she was going to do,
but she wanted to make me wait for it. Wanted to give me the glimmer of hope
that I might not be genetically connected to her for the next eighteen years.
“I’m keeping it,” she said. “Are you suggesting that I should get an abortion?”
“I might be.”
“No fucking way.”
“How are you going to have a baby, Annie? You’re like the least maternal person I know.” That was true, but she probably didn’t care about that. I was going to have to appeal to her superficial side. “Do you know what pregnancy is going to do to your body? It’s going to destroy your body. Trust me. I’ve slept with some women who have had kids, and their bodies are wrecked. Stretch marks, cellulite, pancake tits, huge areolas. You push a baby out and your pussy will be so loose the next guy’s dick will be bouncing off the walls in there.”
“That’s nice, Ian,” she said. “I’m glad to see you have such respect for the miracle of birth.”
“You really think you’re in the position to have a baby right now? You’re twenty-six. That’s pretty young.”
“It’s not that young. There are teenagers who have babies.”
“Yeah, sure, and they live at home with their parents, or they’re on welfare and live in subsidized housing. Is that what you’re telling me? You’re going to move back in with your parents? You’re going to go sign up for food stamps?”
“Of course not,” she said. “I was hoping that this news might make you a little more willing to explore the possibility of the two of us getting back together—”
“Hold the fuck up,” I interrupted. “We were never together. We hooked up and had a
physical relationship. That was it. And when it became clear to me that you
were after something more than that, I broke it off. I didn’t string you along like I could have. And now you want to
call up and tell me this shit.”
She started to laugh. “Wait—are you saying that you deserve some sort of medal
or something? Some man of the year award, because you ended things with me when
they started to get real? Holy shit,
Ian, you’re stupid.”
“Watch yourself,” I said.
“Well, you are if that’s what you think. Listen, Ian. I
wasn’t planning to get pregnant. I’m pretty good about taking my pills every
morning. I may have missed a day or two here and there, but this is the first
time this has ever happened to me.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“I don’t know. I’m just telling you because I want you to know this wasn’t
something I planned. But it’s happening, and I’m not going to get an abortion.
I’m actually very pro-choice, but I just can’t do it.”
“You can, though. That’s what the service is there for. For unplanned
pregnancies, especially when the mother is nowhere near ready to actually
become a mother.”
“I am, though. And I was hoping you’d say that you wanted to step up and be a
father, too. That we could do this together.”
I swear my blood pressure just shot up fifty points. “Listen, Annie,” I said.
“This isn’t some fucking Lifetime
movie where everything ends happily ever after. You don’t get to call up and announce
this pregnancy and have me suddenly realize that I’ve been in love with you all
along and that we should really be together. That’s not how it works. Or at
least not in this case.”
“I wasn’t expecting that. It’d be nice, of course, but I wasn’t expecting it. No, what I was hoping, Ian, was that you would realize you were at least willing to give it a shot. I don’t think that’s asking too much, considering there’s going to be a whole new life entering the equation in nine months.” I cringed. “I was hoping that you’d realize that you could actually settle down and just be with one person, and that maybe you and I—and our child—could have a really nice life together. We already know we’re sexually compatible, and that’s a big part.”
Why had I answered the fucking phone? I stood up, so quickly that my chair almost toppled over.
“That is not going to happen,” I said. “And honestly, Annie, from the sounds of it, I’m starting to suspect that you got pregnant on purpose. That you conveniently forgot to take your pills, not just for a day or two, but probably more like a week or two. Or maybe a whole month.”
“That’s not true,” she said stiffly.
“Yeah, sure.”
The longer I had to think about it, the more I realized that that’s probably exactly what happened. I could picture her, standing in the bathroom, pushing the little pills out, dropping them, one by one, down the drain. Then having me fuck her six ways from Sunday. Women were always going on and on about how the world was sexist and they didn’t get a fair shake, but they had this power they could use whenever they wanted. They could be deceitful and manipulative and trap men by claiming to be on birth control when they weren’t. Fuck!
“Fine,” I said. “I obviously can’t make you have an abortion. But listen to me now and listen good—I am not getting together with you. Notice I didn’t say back together, because we would have had to be together in the first place. You and I are not going to have some happy little family. You can go ahead and have a kid if you want. Ruin your life. Have fun with that.”
“You’re such an asshole,” she said, and she sniffled, and she was probably crying. “This kid will be yours, too.”
“Yeah, well, I want a paternity test when it’s born.
How the fuck do I know you weren’t out
banging half of Boston?”
“I wasn’t. You were the only one I was with.”
“Go ahead and do what you want. I don’t even know why
you called me to begin with when it’s clear that you’ve already made
up your mind. I’m telling you, though, I don’t want to have a kid right now,
and I certainly don’t want to have a kid with you. So if you want to go ahead
and become a single mother, then by all means.”
“You don’t want anything to do with this baby? Really, Ian? Well, you’re at
least going to have to pay child support. You’re right, I won’t be going on
welfare or moving back with my parents—you’ll be paying child support, and
don’t think for a second—”
I threw the phone across the room, where thankfully, it shattered, ending the call. I didn’t know how long I stood there for, trying to take deep breaths, waiting to wake up because surely this was just a horrible fucking nightmare, but after a few minutes, I realized that wasn’t going to happen. My phone was still smashed on the ground, the cereal I’d been eating was a soggy mess in milk. I’d been feeling so good that morning when I woke up, eager to get to work to see Daisy, and now suddenly that had all been completely obliterated.
God fucking dammit.
I was not in a good mood when I got into the office, and even Daisy’s smiling face didn’t do much to improve it.
“Good morning,” she said, and I tried to return her smile, though it probably came out closer to a grimace.
“Hi there.” Jonathan, of course, was right there, next to her desk; they’d been talking about something when I walked in but had stopped when they saw me. “I’ve got some business to take care of this morning.”
I strode on past them and into my office, closing the door behind me. I hadn’t shut the door since Daisy’s first day when I’d been changing my coffee-stained pants; I needed it shut right now, though. With it shut, my office turned into a controlled environment, almost a cocoon of sorts, and as I sat down in my chair and placed my hands on my desk, I felt a sliver of stress slide away. Only a sliver, but I’d take it.
The feeling that wasn’t going anywhere was the fact that Annie had trapped me.
I wasn’t sure exactly how much time had elapsed when there was a knock at the door.
“Come in,” I said.
The door opened slowly
and Daisy peeked her head around. “Are you busy?”
“No, come in,” I repeated. She stepped in and closed the door behind her,
though she didn’t push it all the way shut.
“I just wanted to make sure that everything was okay,”
she said. “You’ve been in here all
morning.”
“It is my office. I do have work to do,” I said. But I was touched, actually,
that she’d come to check up on me. Which was strange, because if Annie had done
the same thing, I would’ve found it completely annoying, overly cloying, kind
of pathetic. I smiled. “There’s just some stuff I’ve had to take care of. How’s
it going out there?”
“It’s good. Jonathan had to take some stuff to the post office and then was
going to meet up with Dan at the civic center, but he said to tell you he’ll be
back late afternoon. There was something he wanted to talk to you about.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. He didn’t tell me what it was though.”
“All right. Thanks for letting me know.”
“Sure.” She put her hand on the doorknob and started to pull the door open but
then stopped. “Are you sure everything’s okay? You seem a little . . . I don’t know, stressed, maybe.”
She stood there, today wearing a slightly shorter, more form-fitting gray skirt, with a white short-sleeve blouse, the top button undone. There was nothing more I would have rather done at that moment than told her exactly what had happened on the phone with Annie, but that wasn’t the sort of news you shared with the woman you were planning to sleep with next. Was that even a good idea at this point? Maybe taking the path of celibacy would be better for right now.
But no. I’d have to fire her if that was going to be the case, because there was no way I’d be able to have her around like this and not get with her. It was like I could feel it radiating off of her skin, this intense desire that she probably didn’t even know she had. What was it Jonathan had said when he was trying to get me to give her an interview? She’s a freak in bed. She probably was a freak in bed. I’d be the one to bring it out in her.
“Yeah, you know, things can get a little stressful at times,” I said. “But that’s just how it goes. I try not to let it get me down.”
“Of course,” she said. “Well . . . if there’s anything
that I can do to help, so you’re not so stressed, just let me know.”
The innuendo was there, but she didn’t realize it. I tried to hide my smile. I
probably shouldn’t even go there at this point—my dick had gotten me into
enough trouble—but there was just something about her that was completely
irresistible.
“You’ve already helped, actually. Thanks.”
“But I didn’t do anything.”
I wanted to get up from my desk, push the door shut all the way, and tear open
her blouse, the little iridescent buttons popping off, one by one. I’d lay her
across my desk and squeeze her ass a few times before—
No.
Not just yet.
“I appreciate it anyway,” I said. And then the phone started to ring, and Daisy excused herself to go answer it.
At the end of the day, I could tell that Daisy was lingering, thinking that we might hang out, but after I went and saw Pete, I wanted to have some alone time, and if I wasn’t going to suggest we get together, I knew she wouldn’t say anything.
“All right,” she said, slinging her handbag over her shoulder. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”
“Bye, Daisy,” Jonathan said. “Here, let me walk you
out.”
“Oh, that’s okay,” she said, but he followed her down the hallway like a loyal
dog. When he returned, he was looking at me with hopeful eyes. Christ, he was
such a fucking Boy Scout. He certainly wouldn’t have gotten a girl pregnant.
He’d never find himself in a situation like this. I felt a flare of anger for
him, for the fact that his life had always been so fucking easy, yet he didn’t
even have the slightest clue.
“So . . .” he said. “How’s it going with Daisy? Did you have a chance to talk to her?”
“Yeah,” I said. I’d draw this out for a little while.
Those hopeful eyes brightened. “You did? What’d she say? How’d it go?”
“It went all right.”
“It did? What did you say to her? Really, more importantly, what did she say to
you?”
A whole lot of shit you don’t want to know. I took a deep breath.
“Sorry to burst your bubble, man,” I said (or more accurately, deflate your dick), “but I just don’t think she’s ready for that sort of thing right now.”
Jonathan pressed his lips together and nodded slowly. “That makes sense,” he said, frowning. “That’s kind of the impression I was getting from her. I guess I really should learn to trust my instincts more.”
“Absolutely. Don’t take it too hard, man. There’s plenty of other girls out there, you know.”
“I know.” He looked disappointed. “It’s just . . . I
really liked her.”
“That’s understandable,” I said, nodding sympathetically, “she’s a good person.
But then again, so are you. So you’re bound to find someone that will be a good
match. I just know it.”
And the thing was, he would. He might not realize it at the moment, but I sure as hell did. Things just always worked out for Jonathan, one way or another.
Not that you’d know it with that forlorn expression he had on his face at the moment, like he’d just walked in on me drowning his favorite puppy or something. Come on, dude, I thought. You are worse than a lovestruck teenage girl! I went over and clapped him on the shoulder, gave him my best expression of brotherly solidarity.
“Did she seem really . . . traumatized?” he asked.
“What—about the idea of you be interested in her?”
“No! You didn’t tell her that, did you?”
“I didn’t.”
“No, I meant by the whole thing with her stalker. Do you think that has made it so she’s never going to want to get involved
with anyone ever again?”
“It’s hard to say. I did find out one thing, though .
. .” I paused, letting the tension draw out. Jonathan looked at me hopefully.
“She’s a virgin. Which doesn’t really coalesce with the notion that she's a freak in bed, now, does it? Remember
how you told me that?”
“Yeah,” he said, his face reddening. “And I’m sorry. I didn’t know if she was,
or that she was a virgin. I just thought if I told you that, you might be more
apt to hire her, you know . . . since the whole thing with Annie and all.” He
looked down at his shoes. “But I’m really sorry, man. That wasn’t cool for me
to make shit up like that.”
“It wasn’t,” I said, cringing inwardly at the mention of Annie’s name. I’d managed to forget about her for a whole five minutes, and that had felt fucking wonderful, believe me. Why couldn’t Jonathan have a crush on Annie? Why couldn’t he be interested in her? He was the type of guy who would certainly step up and raise another man’s kid if said child was the offspring of the woman he adored.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to run; don’t want to be late seeing Pete.”
“Sure,” Jonathan said. He gave me a closer look. “It surprises me sometimes that you still go see him like this.”
“Does it?”
“Well . . . yeah. He was so awful to you. But I think that says a lot about
you, that not only have you been able to forgive him and move past it, but
you’re willing to go see him every week. I know some people whose parents ended
up in a nursing home and they never go
see them, and they’re not even on bad terms. So, yeah.” Jonathan nodded,
smiling. “I think that’s pretty cool that you’re able to do that. And hey,
thanks for talking to Daisy for me. I know it was kind of lame that I couldn’t
just handle it myself, but . . .” He let the sentence die off. He shrugged his
shoulders.
“Don’t even mention it, man,” I said. I held my hand out and we slapped fives, and then I was off to go visit Pete.
This time, when I got to Eagle Hollow and parked, I looked up at the window and saw Pete parked there in his wheelchair, staring straight at me. For the briefest of moments, I experienced this strange longing to trade places with Pete; to be the one living in some facility, all of my needs taken care of, nothing to do all day but stare out a window, or better yet, stare at the nurses’ asses and down their shirts when they delivered the meal trays. Sure, I might not be able to speak, and I’d probably be shitting in a bed pan, but I at least wouldn’t have to deal with this whole problem that Annie had just brought to my attention. Of course, I snapped myself out of that reverie quickly; no fucking way did I want to be like Pete. I raised a hand and waved, then started to walk toward the building, running my hand over the Camaro’s hood as I went past. Inside, it was the same routine as it always was: there was Wendy, big smile on her face, giving me the hungry bedroom eyes.
“Whatever you said to Pete really seemed to help,” she said. “He seemed must less agitated after you left.”
“That’s great,” I replied, wondering if she was just telling me this because she thought it was what I wanted to hear, or because it was actually true. It seemed a little odd that he would find comfort in what I had said to him; I preferred to think that he had finally just given up. “I’ll do my best to continue to bolster his spirits,” I said.
Wendy gave my arm a squeeze before she left me at Pete’s door.
I went inside and walked over to the window. “Hi
there,” I said. “It’s your favorite stepson.”
I pulled one of the chairs over and sat down, rubbed my hand across my eyes.
Pete was wearing a red plaid bathrobe I’d never seen before.
“New threads?” I said.
He glared at me.
“I’ve had quite the day,” I said. “You know, Jonathan thinks that I’m commendable because I’ve somehow found a way to move past all the horrible shit you used to do to me,” I said. “That’s funny, isn’t it? Everyone thinks I come here because I actually give a shit about what happens to you, which really couldn’t be further from the truth. I know that seems heartless, and probably makes me sound like some sort of sociopath or something, but it’s the truth. Although, Jonathan and I wouldn’t even be friends, I bet, if it wasn’t for you.”
Pete’s eyes shifted, left to right, then fixed at a point behind my shoulder. “That’s right,” I continued, “all because of you. They were basically my other family because all you seemed to want to do when I was around was to talk shit and kick my ass. Which must’ve been fun for you; I can’t figure out another reason why you would’ve done it. I wouldn’t have been one of those dickhead stepsons, I wouldn’t have tried to flex on you or anything like that, but you couldn’t have been bothered to even give me that chance. Would you like to know what my childhood memories are made up of? They mainly consist of living in fear that you were about to come home or spending my time at Jonathan’s, where everything was so fucking perfect it would’ve made your teeth hurt. Their family ate dinner together every fucking night. Sat down and ate an actual meal that his mom OR his dad made. They took Sunday drives. Jonathan had probably every single toy he ever wanted, and then a bunch that he didn’t want, too. And he didn’t have to hide these toys because he was afraid that they were going to stomped on because his father was mad at him, or just came home from work in a bad mood. He didn’t even know how good he had it.
“In other exciting news,” I said, “I found out that you’re potentially going to be a grandfather. Well, a step-grandfather, I guess would be the correct definition.” I stared at him as I said this; his reaction didn’t seem any different than with anything else I’d told him. He probably thought I was making it up. “While it’d be nice to say I was making this all up, I’m not. Trust me, I wish it wasn’t the case.”
Pete’s eyes went from looking out the window to looking at me. He made a sound that sort of sounded like a cat trying to hack up a hairball. The corner of his mouth twitched. Though his facial expression hadn’t changed that much, I knew suddenly that he was thrilled to see me uncomfortable, happy that I had found myself in such a position.
I forced a smile. “It’ll all work out,” I said.
“Anyway, Pete, sorry for the short visit today, but I’ve got to be on my way.
You know, there’s a whole world out there, lots of shit going on. I’ll see
myself out.”
I could feel his eyes on me as I hurried out of the room, suddenly finding it
difficult to breathe. Wendy tried to say something to me, but I rushed right
out of there, aware the whole time of Pete up there in that goddamn window,
looking down at me. I had half the mind to just drive that fucking Camaro of
his right into the side of the building, let him watch crash and burn, but I
wasn’t ready to go that far yet. Instead, once I had the car backed out of the
parking spot, I stomped on the gas, felt the tires squealing underneath me,
rubber burning.
At work the next day, Daisy asked me if I wanted to go with her to her favorite bar.
“You have a favorite bar?” I said. Today she was wearing a dark pink skirt that she hadn’t worn here before, and a short-sleeved black blouse, plus a pair of black Mary Jane shoes. Mmm, she looked good.
“I do,” she said with a smile, looking rather proud of
herself. “Failte. Have you ever been there before?”
I tried to hold back my groan. Of course
her favorite bar was Failte. “Maybe once or twice,” I said. “But not in a
while.” I’d probably end up running into Billy McAllister.
“I was thinking of going there after work tonight. Do you want to go with me?”
Well shit, how do you say no to that? Even if it was to a dump like Failte. “You’re awfully hard to resist, you know,” I said.
“Am I?” She was asking honestly, not coyly, which made her even more appealing.
“Yeah,” I said. “You are. Sure, I’ll meet up with you.
You heading down there right after work?”
“I think so. Is that cool with you?”
“I’ve got to meet up with Dan at four-thirty down at the Port; I don’t think
we’ll be more than a couple hours, though. Why don’t I plan on meeting you
there when I’m done? If it’s your favorite place, I’m sure you won’t mind
hanging out there for a little bit. I’ll try not to be too long.”
She smiled. “That sounds great,” she said.
“And what sounds even better than that is going back to your place again after.”
She blushed but met my eye, and I could see that she was very much into that idea as well.
Martin Harris was the CEO at Bank of Atlantic, an appropriate place for him to work considering his fondness for the water and all things boating. He’d been HTS’s first corporate client, and he employed us at all of the bank branches throughout the city and the suburbs of Boston. He also used us for his family events, when necessary, and since his brother and, now, niece, were both A-list Hollywood actors—though they came with their own entourage—Martin always called on us for any gathering he threw when they were in town.
And they were coming to town next, in a trifecta of celebration: Martin and his wife’s twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, the brother’s birthday, and another niece’s engagement (not all on the same exact day, but close enough that one huge celebration could suffice). So Dan and I were down here at the Port, scoping out where the partying would take place: on Martin’s new mega yacht, a four-hundred-and-forty-foot vessel that was basically the equivalent of a cruise liner. It put his previous yacht to shame, which was no small task. But this new yacht—the Paradise Breeze—could hold two hundred and thirty people, was three stories, and included an on-deck swimming pool, fully integrated sound system, and all the marble, leather, and silk you could imagine. They’d go from the Port around the tip of Cape Cod to Nantucket, where they’d spend a few more days, and then they’d eventually make their way back. It was a big event that Martin didn’t want anyone in the media or public to find out about, which was why I wanted to meet up with Dan and go over things well before the actual date arrived.
It ended up taking a little longer than I had planned, but that’s mainly because we’d spent the first half an hour or so just roaming the place, basically eyeball fucking the whole place. When I finally left, I was a bit later than I told Daisy I’d be, but it wasn’t so late that she wouldn’t be there anymore. So I hoped, anyway. Right as I pulled my phone out of my pocket to text her though, a call came through.
Annie.
I debated not answering. I really didn’t want to. As in, there were about nine hundred thousand other things I could think of that I’d rather do than pick up the phone and have to talk to her. But maybe she was calling to tell me she changed her mind. I gritted my teeth and accepted the call.
“This is Ian,” I said.
“You know who this is.”
“You’re right. What’s up?”
“I want to see you in person,” she said. “If you don’t
meet with me in person, then I’m just going to keep bothering you about it
until you do. I’m available now, if you
are. I just want to talk to you face to face this one time, and then I’ll leave
you alone. Unless, of course, you decide that you would actually like to be
involved in your child’s life.”
She was getting a little too bold for my liking, a little too demanding, but if
meeting in person now meant she’d back off, then I might as well just get it
over with. “Fine,” I said. “Where are you?”
“I’m at home.”
“Then I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
“Great, I will—”
I hung up. Then I texted Daisy, who by now was probably wondering where I was. There’s one thing I need to take care—running a little late. Be there soon.
I’d do everything I could to make sure this little visit was over as fast as fucking possible.