Amelia
Amelia put the glass of ginger ale down on the table beside the couch and then grabbed the television remote. She made sure to check her temperature once more before she sat down and she was disappointed to see that it was still normal. So why did she feel like she’d been run over?
She leaned her head back against the soft leather of the couch, but that didn’t ease the dizziness. She slid down so she was curled up on her side, knees drawn to her chest. That only made the nausea worse.
With a sigh of frustration, Amelia reached to the end of the couch and pulled the blanket she’d brought down from her room over her. She wasn’t particularly cold, but it was a very old blanket, left to her by her mother and it always made her feel better. So did the flannel pajama pants, the oversized tee shirt she’d had since high school, and the messy bun she’d fixed in desperation after the third time throwing up that morning. Which would make...she’d actually lost count of how many times she’d been sick in the past few weeks.
She had a date with Anthony tonight at eight o’clock and she wanted to rest for as long as she could before she had to get ready. They’d been seeing each other a few times a week for the month and a half that her father had basically had her under lock and key. None of the dates had been memorable and she wasn’t looking forward to this one either. Especially not when all she wanted to do was cuddle up under her blanket and think about Ethan. In her favorite daydream, he rode up on his shiny blue bike and took her away from it all, telling her that he hadn’t been able to stop thinking of her.
Because men loved women whose fathers showed up to yell at them the morning after. With a heavy sigh, Amelia turned the television on and began flicking through the channels, looking for something that would catch her interest. If there was any hope of being happy in the future, she had to stop thinking about Ethan. All it did was make every date with Anthony worse.
The remote fell from her fingers and she actually gasped when the local news channel came on. Ethan filled the screen, as big as life and even more handsome than she remembered him. He was squinting into the bright sun and looking down at the reporter with a smile.
“So, what made you decide to do this event?” the reporter asked, looking up at him and holding the microphone over for him.
That was Marta Waters. Amelia had seen her at a few events in the political arena. What was she interviewing Ethan for?
“I come from a long line of military guys,” he said. “So it’s familiar to me. I knew more about what they’d need.”
Amelia’s stomach twisted when he spoke. Had she really thought she could get over him? Had she forgotten how low and rough that voice was? The trace of a southern accent still made her heart jump.
“Since I knew what they needed, I thought it would be a good idea to give back to the soldiers who gave up a lot for us. Going through the system for benefits can take time. We’re working with an organization that bridges that gap. Every dollar we raise today goes straight to help vets in need, no fines, no fees. Just help for people who need it.”
“And none of it is to address State Representative Stratton’s view that motorcycle clubs are glorified gangs?” Marta asked, watching him closely.
Ethan grinned. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hoping to get his attention.”
Marta was quick to take the chance. “And what would you say to Representative Stratton if you knew that he was watching?”
Ethan paused for a moment, and then looked directly into the camera. “That there’s more to a person than what they’re interested in. Most motorcycle clubs are good places with good people who just like bikes. I’d also say thank you, I guess.”
“Thank you?” Marta repeated. “That’s an odd stance, given his tax increases on clubs like yours.”
“Yeah, but without it, I’d probably up to my elbows in grease in my garage today.” He glanced around. “Instead, I get to see our community turn out to support a great cause. That’s my secretary over there with his daughters. That’s my treasurer trying to win his girl a stuffed animal and sucking at it.” He gave Marta another grin, this one positively mischievous. “We’re all regular guys. We’re accountants, we’re doctors, lawyers, cops, mechanics.” He shrugged. “And we’re all congregating, which is apparently dangerous in Representative Stratton’s eyes, but I don’t think anyone here feels too scared of the big bad biker guys.”
Marta laughed. “I’d have to agree,” she said as the camera panned away from them and Amelia finally got a good glimpse of the festival. It was extremely crowded despite the heat, teeming with people playing games. Others were eating funnel cakes and cotton candy, there were kids squealing and shrieking with laughter in the bounce houses, and guys in vests with the Angel’s Keepers patches on them talking to veterans.
When the camera swooped back to Ethan and Marta, the reporter said, “So there you have it, Nevada. Come on down to the community park and meet the guys! I hear The Angel’s Keepers is even taking new recruits, in Stratton you’re feeling rebellious enough to do some good today.”
The next story came on, leaving Amelia to stare blankly as the weatherman prattled on. Ethan had looked so good with his vest hugging those broad shoulders. His tee shirt had been white today, showing off his tan to its best advantage and making her feel weaker than she already did.
Had that reporter been flirting with him? Amelia bit her thumbnail. She had. She’d remained professional, but there’d clearly been a bit of attraction.
More importantly, though, had Ethan been flirting back? Even if he had, what claim did she have on him? None. And her father had ruined whatever hold a one-night stand would have offered anyway. Maybe hehad been flirting with the gorgeous Marta Waters, who was blonde and flawless and not in sweatpants.
Clapping her hand over her mouth, Amelia ran for the hall bathroom where she lost the little bit of ginger ale she’d managed to get down. She leaned back against the wall and slid down, resting her head on her knees and fighting the urge to sob.
What the hell was wrong with her? When she wasn’t feeling sick, she was crying. When she wasn’t crying or feeling sick, she was asleep. Her skin was breaking out like she was a teenager again and she had no energy. And, yet, she had no fever, she wasn’t sneezing or coughing. None of it made sense.
# # #
Amelia barely dragged herself off of the couch when her computer gave the Skype alert. She was feeling like a terrible friend on top of everything else, because she’d put Aubrey off the last few times she’d called. She answered the call, determined to be cheerful.
“Hey,” she said, giving the happiest looking smile she could muster.
“Hey,” Aubrey replied. “Can I rant at you for a second?”
“That’s unusual, but sure.” Aubrey was the most positive person Amelia knew, hands down.
“I just...I feel so bad for some of these kids that I counsel!” Aubrey burst out. “What iswrong with sex education in this country? I just had a sixteen-year-old girl in my office who had no idea that she was pregnant! Nausea, weight gain, missing her period, lack of energy...she thought she had the flu! The freaking flu! A friend of hers forced her down to the center to take a test and she freaked out; she was completely terrified. She actually thought she couldn't get pregnant if it was her first time, and I wish to God I’d never heard that before, but I get it all the time!” Aubrey suddenly stopped. “Amelia? Are you okay?”
Amelia cleared her throat and pressed her lips together. Her mouth had been hanging open. “Yes, absolutely. What is she going to do?”
Aubrey sighed heavily. “She hasn’t made a decision yet. I spent most of the time just calming her down.”
Amelia did her best to listen as Aubrey talked and give the appropriate responses, but her mind was racing. Shouldn’t she have had her period last week? No, it should have come the week before that. And she’d been sick for a while now.
In her anger when she was getting ready and nervousness once she was at Ethan’s house, she hadn’t thought of asking him to use a condom. What had she been thinking? She had to find out, and she had to find out as soon as possible.
“Amelia?” Aubrey asked. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Tears filled Amelia’s eyes. “No, honestly. But I don’t want to get into it right now. I can’t.”
Aubrey’s face had gone from annoyed with the state of the world and the public education system to concerned for her friend, which made Amelia feel even more like a jerk. She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes and took a deep breath to avoid letting the tears spill down her cheeks.
“Sorry, Aubrey,” she whispered. “I have to go now.”
“Okay,” Aubrey said slowly. “But I’m here for you. You know that, right? The minute you can talk about it, I expect you call me. No matter what.”
“I will. I...I’m sorry, I have to go.” She had to get to the drugstore and back before her father came home for the day.
# # #
Amelia had barely gotten back home and she was only halfway up the stairs to her bedroom when she heard the front door slam. She quickly checked to make sure that the small box was buried deeply in her purse. Of course, if he’d had her followed again, it wouldn’t matter. He’d know exactly what she’d bought. Heart hammering, she put her purse down on the stairs and walked into the hallway.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, but her father was already headed into the living room where he turned on the television with an angry jab of his thumb to the remote.
News 6 popped right up and he gave Amelia a quick glance. She made her face as bland as possible and he turned back to the LCD screen. Marta Waters was behind the anchor desk, looking just as beautiful as she’d looked that morning.
“Our story earlier today featured Ethan Billings, the president of motorcycle club: The Angel’s Keepers. In the current climate, created largely by State Representative Gregory Stratton, most of our viewers might expect this to be a story about trafficking or other crime. However, Ethan Billings set up a charity drive for injured and homeless war veterans and made sure they left with every penny earned, despite Representative Stratton’s new restrictive tax plan putting the squeeze on his and other bikers’ organizations.”
“Sounds like a pretty good guy,” her co-anchor said cheerfully. “It’s a shame Representative Stratton couldn’t be reached for rebuttal.”
“You know,” Marta went on. “Many voters believe he may be getting a little old for the political arena. Things like this may prove him to be even more out of touch with younger voters than ever before. And now for the weather with Ben--”
The television went dark.
“Why can’t they see that this is a publicity stunt?” Stratton demanded. “He doesn’t give a damn about veterans!”
“Yes, he does,” Amelia surprised herself by saying. “He was in the Army.”
Gregory sneered. “He’s not anymore; I checked. Probably a dishonorable discharge. All of these people are criminals.”
“No they’re not! Even cops have motorcycle clubs!”
Gregory looked at her closely and suspiciously. “Why are you looking into them?”
“Whyaren’t you? You’re the one who’s supposed to know!”
“I get my facts from a very reliable source,” he said, his face stony now.
“And who is that? Because, Dad, I am being serious when I say this.” Amelia took a deep breath to steady her voice. Her father had been reasonable in the past...when he was winning elections by landslides. She hadn’t realized that the two were so closely connected. But maybe she could get through to him again. “They seem to be wrong about everything. Motorcycle clubs are perfectly legitimate organizations. They-”
“You don’t have any idea what you’re talking about,” Gregory said flatly. “A few hysterical blog posts defending these people isn’t the same thing as actual research. Warren Miller and Richard Brewer have actually done some work, here. They’re the only ones who seem to be willing to put in the time.”
Disgust overtook her logical response and she turned away. She’d put in her share of hours researching this too. It was more than just making sure Ethan wasn’t the horrible person her father painted him to be. She genuinely wanted to help her father make decisions that would make people’s lives better. And she was being brushed off, dismissed, in favor of two men with inflated statistics that fit Gregory’s own prejudices.
“I’ll be upstairs,” she said tiredly.
“Fine. They’re coming over to discuss how we should address this and I expect you to keep a civil tongue if they want to talk to you.”
Of course, it wouldn’t occur to him to ask if she wanted to talk to them. Maybe in the past it would have, but not anymore. Amelia didn’t bother to reply, she just scooped her purse up and walked up the stairs.
“And don’t forget your date with Anthony tonight,” he called at her retreating back.
“How could I?” she asked, suddenly feeling even more exhausted as she remembered that she hadn’t done anything to get ready. Anthony always took her to places where he could see and be seen. She’d probably need to do better than yoga pants and a messy bun. “Don’t worry, Dad. I’ll stay out of your way and go on my date like a good girl.”
After I find out whether or not I’m pregnant by another man, that is.