“I’m carpooling with Devon, across the street, the rest of this week, so the car is in the garage if you need to go anywhere. It should have plenty of gas in it and I’ve left you some cash on the kitchen counter. I know you’re busted. You can pay me back for whatever you use when you can,” Holly told her the following morning.
Mystic looked her over. She had her hair in a loose bun and a pair of sunglasses on even though she hadn’t gone out into the sun yet. It was a sure sign that she was hungover, and Mystic wasn’t much better herself.
“Thanks, Holly. Hopefully, I’ll just be here going through boxes today.”
“I’ll see you this afternoon,” Holly replied, picking up her briefcase and heading for the front door.
Once she was gone, Mystic made her way to the garage to start on the boxes. There was no point in showering until she found some clothes and such. She groaned as she went through what William had packed up for her. There were none of the nice dresses or expensive shoes he had purchased for her during the marriage. Only jeans, t-shirts, and less expensive items. It was if he made sure not to include anything that might be of value, anything she might sell to make a little money to get by on. She noted that he had even kept her electronics. The only reason her phone was still working was that she had purchased it on a contract in her name a few months before the split.
That was another worry. The payment would be due in a couple of weeks and she had nothing to pay it with. She had hoped there would be something of value in the boxes, but after sifting through more than ten of them, she knew she would find nothing in the final two. William was a jackass to the very end. She picked up a stack of clothes she had gathered and took them upstairs with her, showering and changing. At least she was in her own things again.
The phone vibrated beside her as she sat on the bed brushing out her hair. She looked down at the blocked number and started not to answer it, but curiosity won over in the end and she clicked the button to accept the call.
“Hello?”
“Hello. Is this Mystic Jansen?”
“Carlton,” Mystic groaned.
“Excuse me?”
“My last name is Carlton.”
“Oh. I, well, uh . . . I’m confused. I have the name Mystic Jansen in front of me.”
“What is this about?” Mystic groaned, expecting some cold call or more bad news.
“This is Margaret Stanford with Specialty Surrogates. We received your photo and resume last night. The name on it was Mystic Jansen. Is that you?”
Mystic’s brow knotted together for a moment. Then, she remembered the ad. She had sent in her resume but hadn’t had time to update it before doing so. It still said Jansen.
“Yes. I’m sorry. That’s me. I am newly divorced and just need to update my resume.”
“Ah, very good then. We’d like to talk to you about becoming a surrogate if you have time to meet today.”
“Today?” Mystic replied. “That’s quick.”
“Yes. Well, we have a very high demand for our services and finding qualified candidates can be difficult.”
“Right. What, exactly, are the qualifications required?”
“I’ll be more than happy to discuss that with you in person. Can you come in today?”
“Look. I appreciate the call, but I think that maybe I’m not the person you are looking for. I really can’t afford to be pregnant for nine months while trying to re-establish myself.”
“I see. It’s not for everyone. I find that a lot of people will even come for the initial meeting, mostly lured in by the $250,000 payment for completed pregnancy, but back out when faced with actually going through with everything.”
“I’m sorry. Did you say $250,000?” Mystic gasped.
“Yes. Double for multiple births, triple for beyond that.”
“That’s insane.”
“Well, there is a lot to be discussed beyond just payment that might make the payment sound less appealing.”
“What time would you like to meet?” Mystic asked.
“Is one p.m. good for you? Our offices are located at the Masterson Clinic. Are you familiar with the location?”
“Yes,” Mystic replied, feeling a little apprehensive.
The Masterson Clinic was the subject of much speculation. There were rumors that they did weird human experiments there and other horror stories. None of it had been proven beyond just local lore, but most people steered clear of the place. The fact that they were willing to offer five times the amount most places would pay for a surrogate spoke volumes, as far as she was concerned.
“Then I will see you at one?”
“Sure. I mean, yes. I’ll see you then. Thank you, Ms. Stanford.”
They said their goodbyes and hung up. Mystic sat and looked at her cell phone for a moment, debating whether she was going to go through with the meeting. In the end, the money was just too good to ignore. It was worth at least going in to find out more about it. She contemplated it some more as she hung her clothes in the closet, debating it all the way up until the time she needed to leave if she was going to arrive on time.
“What the hell?” she asked herself, grabbing Holly’s money and car keys from the kitchen counter and heading toward the garage.
The drive into the city gave her more time to think about this. It was nine months of her life, maybe ten, a year at most, depending on how long it took for the insemination to work. In the end, she would have two hundred and fifty thousand to show for it, maybe more. No menial job she could get was going to pay her nearly that much. If she was lucky, she might make it in ten years time.
So, what was a year to put herself ahead of the game? That much money would buy her a decent house and a new car with money left over to put in the bank and subsidize her income, even if she couldn’t find anything more than a low paying job. Unless there was something incredibly weird about this, it would be hard to pass up that kind of money.
She found herself even daring to feel optimistic. Holly was going to go ballistic about this, but she’d calm down. She was just protective of Mystic and always had been. They had grown up together, both coming from poor families and making their own way. It was just that Holly had been the smart one and gotten scholarships to go to college, while Mystic had been stupid enough to drop out of college her sophomore year and marry someone who was all wrong for her and left her with the same nothing she had come to him with.
Her heart was thudding as she pulled up to the gates of the Masterson Clinic and waited for the guard to come out to her window. He motioned for her to roll down the window.
“May I help you?”
“I have a one p.m. appointment with Margaret Stanford at Specialty Surrogates.”
“Name?”
“Mystic Jansen, uh, Carlton.”
“Which is it? Jansen or Carlton?”
“Um, Carlton, I guess.”
The guard looked at her with a disdained expression and then looked down his chart. After a moment, he pushed a button and the gates in front of her opened.
“Go in the front doors, cross the lobby and take the elevator to the eighth floor. Room 810 will be to your left on the right side of the hallway.”
“Thank you,” she replied.
Her pulse was still racing even as she made her way up the elevator. Stepping off, she was immediately aware of how sterile it all looked. Everything was white and stainless steel. It looked out of place compared to the opulence she had noted in the lobby. The entrance had been filled with statues and paintings done in gothic tones, rich with touches of antique brass and gold. It was like walking into a castle from days gone by. In stark contrast was the incredibly pristine hallway of the eighth floor, with its frosted glass doors and lack of decor.
Stepping into room 810, she found herself facing a young woman at a desk that was equally clean. There were no papers of any kind, only a phone and a computer. No photos of family or cute little creations made by children who originated in the clinic. It was perhaps the most sterile environment she had ever been to and that bothered her in a way she couldn’t put her finger on. The young woman looked up at her and smiled without really seeing her.
“How can I assist you?”
“Mystic Carlton. I have an appointment.”
“Of course. Come with me.”
Mystic’s heart hammered violently against her chest as she followed her to an adjoining room and had a seat in front of a desk at which no one sat. The young woman instructed her to wait.
“Ms. Stanford will be with you in just a moment.”