Chapter Eleven
Dana
I sat nervously in the coffee shop, my hands tucked between my knees, my foot jiggling nervously on the floor, bouncing my knee. I still had time to back out. I still had the opportunity to change my mind. But it was Thursday. I had one more day to deliver the money to Slim Pete. I had yet to get a hold of Charlie. Where the hell was he? Was it possible that Slim Pete was holding him somewhere until the debt was paid off? No, he would have taunted me with that bit of news.
Still, I didn’t know where Charlie was. I didn’t know much of anything about the entire situation other than my own worry and increasing sense of anxiety. I didn’t want to do this. I didn’t want to do this! I didn’t want to go through this farce of a marriage to a complete stranger. And a baby? A baby? Who did that?
I did.
I couldn’t think beyond getting Charlie’s debt paid off. In less than a week my life had spun out of control. I needed something to hang on to, something solid, but it was like grasping at a tornado. All I could do was hang on for dear life.
And this Brady. Brady Shaw. He was obviously rich, but I didn’t trust him. What kind of guy paid a woman to pretend to be his girlfriend, his fiancée, and the potential mother of his child? When it came right down to it, what kind of father gave his son such an ultimatum? It wasn’t like we were living in the seventeenth century for crying out loud.
And why wasn’t Brady married by now anyway? Why didn’t he step up to the plate and take over his father’s business? Why did his father need a grandchild to do it? On top of that, there were no guarantees that Brady and I would be able to produce a child in the required time frame. I didn’t want to sleep with the guy. He was a stranger. And his stupid idea of artificial insemination? No guarantees that would immediately take either.
The whole thing was stupid. Deplorable. My stomach churned in disgust. And yet here I was, staring out the window, waiting for the undeniably handsome jerk to appear. Then again, he might not. I might find myself the butt of a very cruel joke on YouTube. He and his buddy, Nick, might have been jerking my chain all along, but if they were, they were both terribly good actors.
The thought of this being nothing more than a cruel joke left me feeling nauseated. Not that I was looking forward to going through with this preposterous deal, that was also nauseating, but the alternative was even worse. Charlie… if only he knew what I was doing for him. The sacrifices I was making. No, this went way beyond sacrifice.
I glanced down at the Formica table in front of me, off-white with speckles in it. Would he appreciate what I was doing? Of course he would. But I determined that he would never find out. Not if I had anything to say about it. Oh, he would probably ask how Slim Pete had been paid off, and after I met with Brady Shaw, had the money in hand, only then would I be able to start thinking up of a plausible—okay, maybe not so plausible—explanation. I could tell him that we had legitimately gotten engaged, that he was well off and that, as a favor to me, he had agreed to pay off Charlie’s debt.
Charlie wasn’t exactly the sharpest crayon in the box, but he wasn’t stupid. He might not believe that. And even after the debt was paid off, I had to convince him that he couldn’t gamble anymore. Never. I scowled. Where was Charlie? Hiding? Probably. I didn’t blame him. I’d always been there for Charlie. Then again, Charlie had always been there for me. Just because I was the responsible one didn’t mean that my brother was useless. It was Charlie and me against the world. Charlie and me. More than anything, I wanted Charlie to reach his potential.
Still, my heartbeat accelerated and my nerves nearly frayed. I longed more than anything to bolt from this diner, to run and keep on running. To let Charlie take care of his own problems. But I couldn’t. I loved him too much. Maybe some would say I enabled him, which in some ways is probably true. But I couldn’t turn my back on him. Not now, not ever. If at all possible, I would always be there to pick him up when he fell down, to give him the support, the love, and the guidance that I could. And in turn, in doing so, our bond would continue as we grew older.
Maybe someday, Charlie would find someone worth fighting for like I was fighting for him. And I knew without an iota of hesitance that if I got into trouble, he would be there for me. No doubt about it. But what if—
“Hello.”
I startled and glanced up to find Brady sliding into the booth seat across from me. The vinyl padding squeaked under him as he settled. My heart skipped a beat. I felt sick to my stomach and excited at the same time. Nervous excitement… more like dread. This was it. This was no joke. He was a little less flippant than he had been yesterday, a little less relaxed. He wasn’t smiling, and his shoulders seemed tense, his jaw clenching and unclenching. I saw the throb of the pulse in his neck.
“You’re as nervous as I am, aren’t you?”
He eventually nodded. Then that grin tweaked the corner of his mouth, and he offered a shrug. “It’s not every day you find someone willing to marry you within twenty-four hours.” He glanced down at the manila folder he’d placed on the table. “You still want to go through with this? No hard feelings if you don’t.”
No, I didn’t want to go through with this, and I yearned to change my mind, desperately so. But I couldn’t. Shame on me, and shame on Charlie, but we needed the money. I needed the money to finish school. I slowly shook my head.
“I’ve brought the contract and a check—”
I stiffened. “But I told you I would need cash. It will take three days for a bank to clear a check, and that will be too late! I need it tomorrow!” I clamped my mouth shut, my heart pounding as a cold chill swept through my body. I couldn’t stop the shiver that raced down my spine. Brady obviously saw my reaction and frowned.
“I’ll go to the bank with you, right after the contract is signed, Dana. They’ll cash the check for me. Today.”
My relief was so intense, the chemical release of my hormones, the adrenaline; everything gave me an instant headache. This was crazy. Absolutely crazy, but I had to save Charlie. “Okay, thank you.”
Brady reached into the envelope and extracted a sheaf of papers. He turned them around and slid them across the table toward me. He pulled a pen from the manila folder as well.
I frowned as I stared at the stapled collection of papers, then slowly picked it up, riffling through them. My eyebrows lifted in surprise as I gazed at him. “You want me to read through all this legalese right now? It’s got to be fifteen pages or more of gobbledygook.”
Brady chuckled, “My lawyer’s very thorough. Not exactly gobbledygook, but I’ll break it down for you. You can read it ad infinitum later.”
I began to shake my head. No way was I going to sign anything before reading it, and I told him so.
He shrugged and leaned back in the booth. “Suit yourself.”
I returned my gaze to the first page. I barely managed to get through the first paragraph and let me tell you, I’m pretty darned smart. I quickly scanned the rest of the page, then flipped to the next, and the next one after that. I frowned again looking toward Brady carefully watching me.
“Is there some law that lawyers refer to that prevents them from writing out contracts in plain English?” I lifted my hand to interrupt his ensuing comment. “I’m not stupid, Brady. I’m just about done with nursing school, and let me tell you, if I can get through microbiology and pathophysiology, I can tackle this. But for the sake of time, can you summarize the contents for me please?”
“You’re a nursing student?” He seemed surprised. “That’s an admirable—”
“Mister Shaw—”
That grin again followed by the appearance of a dimple. My stomach did a somersault. Dammit!
“It’s Brady. Remember, you’re my fianceé. The mister refers to my dad.”
“Fine,” I sighed. “What does all this say?” I felt mentally exhausted, and my head pounded anew.
“Basically, what we agreed to yesterday. In return for you marrying me and producing a child within a year, you get five-hundred-thousand dollars. I’ve got the check for fifty thousand here.” He pulled the check from the envelope and then tucked it back inside. “Allotments will be deposited into an account, in your name only, throughout the year.” He paused. “It also states that a viable pregnancy comes as a result of our union.”
I glanced up from the papers. “What if—”
“It also says that we will both undergo complete physical examinations and blood work to determine that we’re both fertile and there’s nothing wrong medically with either one of us that would prevent the manufacture of a child.”
The manufacture of a child. What a sterile, noncommittal way of saying that. I frowned. “I thought you said yesterday that there would be no sex between us, that this was to be a marriage in name only.”
“I made some phone calls yesterday. Most fertility clinics wouldn’t even suggest artificial insemination or fertility drugs unless a couple is unable to procreate for some time.” He shook his head. “We don’t have the luxury of time. We’re going to have to do this the old-fashioned way.”
Dammit! I knew the AI angle was a long shot. I knew better. For God’s sake, I was a nursing student. I understood the reproductive system and how babies were manufactured. I stared at him, shouting at myself to get up and walk away from this absurd plan, but I just sat there, my hands trembling slightly as I held that stupid contract.
“I know that neither of us are particularly thrilled with this, Dana, but I promise, I won’t treat you badly. There’s a clause in there about drinking, smoking, and drugs. On my part, I limit alcohol consumption. On your part, to ensure safety to the baby, you refrain from all drinking, smoking, or any kind of drugs.”
“What happens…” I couldn’t even believe I was discussing such a topic with such a great sense of detachment. “What if I have a miscarriage or something goes wrong? Does that void out the contract?” Shit, I sounded so cold.
He shook his head. “No, Dana. I know, and my lawyer knows, that as much of a jerk as my dad can be, he knows also that things go wrong in a pregnancy. Termination of a pregnancy is not an option, but an act of God, well, even my dad would have to accept that.”
“What if it takes me…” I swallowed, couldn’t even believe I was talking like this. “What if it takes more than three months for me… us, to get pregnant? What if it takes five months?”
He shrugged. “Same thing, though I do have to warn you that my dad might be blunt about any delays, may even resort to asking if you’re trying hard enough, if you know what I mean.”
“And what about the marriage part?”
“We don’t have to get married right away. My dad won’t care if the baby announcement comes first, but we do have to marry within a year’s time. To keep everything legal with the inheritance and all.”
I felt hollow inside. I nodded, my mouth dry. I reached for the glass of water on the table and clasped my hand around it. I started to lift it to my mouth, but my hand shook so badly I was afraid I would drop it. I lowered the glass back down on the table. With a heavy sigh, I gestured with my hand. “Give me the pen.”
I sounded so strange, even to myself. My voice, defeated and surrendering. This wasn’t me. Never in my life would I have imagined myself in such a position—or agreeing to it. I was doing it for Charlie. But not just for my brother. I had to think of my schooling. I had to focus on that. Charlie’s safety and my career. The sacrifice had to be worth it. It had to!
I flipped to the last page of the contract and saw the line where I was supposed to sign. Taking a deep breath and holding back a guttural howl of disappointment and shame, I signed my name. The signature was shaky, no doubt about it, but I put pen to paper. I added the date, then shoved the stack of papers back toward Brady, followed by a toss of the pen.
“Your turn.”
His grin disappeared as he turned the papers around and reached for the pen. His hand didn’t shake. His signature was firm and sure. And why shouldn’t it be? He was getting everything he wanted. Then again, so was I, so why did I feel so sick right now? And then I realized. I had a conscience. Maybe Brady didn’t. My heart sank even lower.
The moment the contract was signed, he reached into his pocket and retrieved his cell phone and tapped out a number. “Frederick, we’re going to the bank. Make sure they’re aware of my arrival and that the check will be cleared and paid within the hour.”
I stared at him in dumb amazement. “Who’s Frederick?”
“My lawyer.”
“You can do that? You can wiggle your way through bank regulations?”
He grinned. “My daddy owns the bank. One of his many business ventures. Frederick will know what to say, maybe that I need some fun money to go to Vegas or something. They won’t be surprised. They know me there.”
How much money did this guy have? Then again, if he was throwing around five hundred grand on a complete stranger, he probably had a lot.
“Would you mind if I asked you a personal question?”
I looked at him. “Yes, actually I would.” That didn’t stop him.
“Why do you need fifty thousand dollars in cash by tomorrow?” He slid the signed contract back into the envelope. “I realize that it’s none of my business, but since we’re about to be married and all, it seems like a reasonable question, don’t you think?”
I wasn’t nearly ready to start exposing my personal history, nor my brother’s gambling debt to him. So I kept it simple. “It’s for my brother.”
*
At exactly one o’clock on Friday afternoon, I walked into a shabby looking bar a few blocks away from my apartment building, where I had arranged to meet Slim Pete. I carried an old backpack stuffed with fifty thousand dollars in cash. My heart pounded although I did my best to keep a bland expression on my face, as if I walked into this bar every day, which I didn’t, and that my backpack was only filled with books, like it usually was.
It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. I barely managed to disguise my expression of disgust as I smelled a combination of urine, pot, stale beer, and just… oldness… the place looked like it dated back to the 1950s and little, if any, renovations had been done. The paneling had started to split at the seams, the torn vinyl barstools exposing clumps of padding, the floors warped and strewn with crunchy stuff and God knows what else.
“Dana!”
I looked toward the corner and into the booth where Slim Pete sat, lounging, arms spread against the back of the booth, knees spread, a grin on his face. I quickly walked past the bar, ignoring the curious glances of the mid-day drinkers, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible.
I swung the backpack off my shoulder and tossed it onto the seat next to Slim Pete.
“There’s your money.”
The look on his face expressed obvious surprise. He hadn’t been expecting this. Regardless of how I’d gotten the money, I felt a twinge of satisfaction at besting him.
“Where’d you get it?” he asked, leaning over and unzipping a small section of the backpack, one eyebrow crooking slightly when he spied the bundles of cash inside. He quickly zipped it up.
“None of your business.” Hands on my hips, I gave him my ultimatum. “The debt is paid off. You don’t come near me or Charlie. You don’t accept any more bets from Charlie.”
He laughed, “Now you know very well that I can’t promise that, Dana. After all, I’m a bookie! It’s my business!”
I leaned down, but not far enough that I would have to place my hand on that disgusting, grimy table as I looked him straight in the eyes, trying to sound threatening. “If you take one bet from Charlie, I’m warning you, I’ll go to the police.”
Slim Pete was in my face so fast I nearly gasped. I told myself to hold my ground.
“No you won’t, Dana,” he snarled. “You know why?”
My stomach turned at the odor of his breath. My heart pounded. I wanted to turn and run, but I didn’t. I said nothing.
“Because if you do, I’ll hurt you,” he warned, his voice low. “And then I’ll hurt Charlie. You got it?”
“Pete!”
The anger in the voice startled me. I took a step back from Pete and looked over my shoulder at the bartender, glaring at Pete from behind the bar.
“Get the hell out of here!”
At first I thought he was talking to me, but then Pete chuckled and rose, lifting the backpack from the bench and sliding the strap over one shoulder. “Sure thing, Roger, sure thing.”
Pete brushed past me, nearly knocking me into the booth. It took everything I had in me not to start crying.
“You all right, lady?”
Startled, I turned to the bartender and nodded. I took a deep breath and quickly left the bar, hovering in the doorway for a moment to make sure that Pete wasn’t waiting out there for me. I glanced up and down the street, but I didn’t see him. Squinting against the bright afternoon sun, I pulled my phone from my pocket and called for a taxi. Normally I would’ve just walked home or waited for a bus, but at the bank yesterday, Brady had pulled out an extra thousand dollars for me. Spending cash, he said. To get myself a nice dress to wear to the gathering at this dad’s estate tomorrow. A formal dress.
Normally, I would not have considered a taxi. The public bus system in Dallas was more than adequate for my needs. But my meeting with Slim Pete had jarred me to the core. I didn’t want to be walking around by myself right now and risk the chance of bumping into him again.
It took only a few minutes for a taxi to round the corner and pull up in front of the bar. As I quickly stepped from beneath the tattered overhang of the bar and to the curb to open the door to the taxi, I glanced down the street. I paused and frowned. There, on the opposite side, near the far corner, someone sat in a car. Looking directly at me.
My stomach turned. Probably one of Pete’s goons. I couldn’t help it. My emotions in a turmoil, infuriated with my life at the moment, I raised my hand and flipped off whoever the hell it was.