Marty
Jesus. I’d gone to a dance to do a good deed and ended up… I didn’t need to open my eyes. I could feel the sway of Holly’s swing beneath me. After I’d fled the bedroom, I’d found myself standing naked in the middle of her kitchen. Befuddled. That’s what Elaine would call it. I’d managed to get my head together enough to dress. Sort of.
I’d pulled on my pants for the sake of any neighbor who might come by, but, I’d left my sweatshirt with Holly upstairs. I’d thought about going back up and claiming it. Instead, I’d made-do with hers before stumbling outside to her backyard swing, where I collapsed when my feet wouldn’t prop me up any longer.
I’d thought I needed fresh air to clear my head. Nope. My head was still in a far-away place. I still couldn’t quite believe it. Shit, I knocked her up. I had sense enough to understand that didn’t sound right. I put a bun in the oven. No. She’s increasing. I didn’t understand that one. Expecting. Hmmm. Holly’s expecting… Maybe. None of my descriptions matched the reality. Jesus, she’s having my kid.
I wondered if she’d planned on me finding out this way. She’d pointed us upstairs. The pregnancy test kits had been in her bathroom. But, I didn’t think any of our fuck had been calculated on her part. She seemed like an innocent caught up in…
I swallowed, and pushed the swing harder. I’d wanted a do-over and had come loaded with bait. Music, food, charm. What a fuck. Lust squashed paternity thoughts and my cock stirred, remembering. Now, that, was a do-over.
I didn’t waste time wondering if it had been as good for her. She’d been sprawled, limp, satisfied, and smiling when I left her bed. I’d been pretty damn satisfied myself, taking a piss and staring down at the wastebasket, grinning like a loon.
My mind had been in I don’t give a shit what I’m looking at, I just want to get back to bed, mode, when I kind of focused on the box. I couldn’t see what it was; I thought it might be beauty shit. I was not snooping. Well maybe a little bit.
Kit had colored her hair from a box and I was curious if Holly’s blonde color was natural. I’d even made plans to check her lower curls after I climbed back into that magnificent bed.
I’d leaned closer, trying to figure out what had come in the box, without actually touching it. I mean, that would fall into the snooping zone. I could see that. But, still.
I’d nudged the can with my bare foot, shaking it enough to get a better look. There had been two boxes. And after I read the label, I shut the shit about nosiness down, and examined the box, read the instructions, checked for wands, and found a third kit unopened.
I’m having a kid. Holly and I are having a kid. Hell. The full implications of her pregnant state settled over me. I needed to tell Jack, call Garret and get medical instructions, set up a trust for the kid. Excitement zipped through my veins.
I opened my eyes and gazed at the house. Holly stood where she had earlier, watching me from the kitchen window. There stands the mother of my child.
I realized this could get complicated. I mean, I wanted the kid, my progeny, a son I hoped, but hey, a girl would be okay, too. I frowned. I’d need a lot of help with a girl baby. Not so much with a boy.
But that was a dumb thought. I’d have Holly to help. But would I? Did she want the baby? My baby? Women didn’t always feel maternal or want to commit to raising a kid. My mom hadn’t. She’d left me with my grandma and took off right after I’d been born.
I needed to let Holly know I’d be responsible for everything if she wanted to just hand the baby to me after she’d delivered. We needed to talk. But, my penchant for opening my mouth and pissing her off kept my ass parked in the swing.
I was afraid if I went into the house, she’d make me leave. I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to go back upstairs with her, crawl into her grandpa’s bed, and enjoy it with her for a long time.
My thoughts seemed to be lingering a disproportionate amount of time on having sex considering that this new development should have captured all my attention. And that led me to questions about fucking during pregnancy. Could we? Should we? Would she?
While I’d mulled over the possibilities of when and how to get into her pants again, Holly had been busy. She was dressed in khakis and a green shirt. Different clothes from the night before, but same combo.
“I’m going to work. I need to lock up.”
She didn’t tell me to get out, but she didn’t invite me to stay, either.
“I’ll drive you there.” I expected her to tell me to go to hell.
“Okay.” Her answer had me out of the swing and scrambling to be her chauffeur.
“Why don’t I leave that here?” I said casually, as she handed me my sweatshirt when I went back inside. I guess she wanted hers back. I’d decided I’d keep it. Who knows why because the neck was too tight even with the slit I’d cut in the front.
“No.” She shoved the shirt at me like it was hot.
“Fine. Ready to go?”
She nodded. I escorted her to my Hummer. She was very quiet. She didn’t object when I buckled her into her seat. Another sign all was not well. I cleared my throat, delicately, I thought.
“What?” her snarled question assured me she was getting back to her old self.
“Can I tell anyone?” It might seem like a dumb question, but I didn’t know how this was going to play out.
“Huh?” Her startled look informed me that was an unexpected question.
“I’m not comfortable with maybes. Either I’m going to be a dad, or I’m not. If it’s happening, I’ve got to tell Jack, and,” I added in a mumble, “a couple other people.”
Elaine, my secretary, administrative assistant, motherish in a bizarre kind of way, and friend. Church, because he was still worried about the chili, and it was only fair to share the news. Besides, Church might poach on another man’s woman but not his pregnant woman.
Then I needed to talk to Garret and let him know I knew. He could recommend a specialist for Holly, one who would share medical information with him, and he in turn would share it with me. Jack, being a man who didn’t hold back on happy, would tell the crew. So, if Holly intended to keep the news secret, it wasn’t happening.
Unless she’d decided she wasn’t into having a family yet or at all. In which case…
“The test could be wrong,” she said.
“The stats indicate otherwise.” Pretty accurate outcomes. A 99.97% probability, in fact. “But either way, am I allowed to talk about it?”
“You want to tell people I might be expecting?”
“Yeah.” I did. I was proud. “Hell, yeah.”
“And if I’m not?”
I shrugged. “Then I’ll tell ’em you’re not. It’s a big deal to me. You’ve got your friends you’ll share with. I’ve got mine. But, I want to know if maybe is real, because if I can do anything to sway your decision into a yes it’s real, tell me, and I’ll do it.”
“That made no sense at all.”
She was right I’d garbled that explanation.
“I want you to tell me that if you’re pregnant, you’re going to stay pregnant.” I’d pretty much worked out all the details while I’d been swinging in the backyard. Holly was the only part I couldn’t control.
“Yes, if the test was right, I’m having the kid.” She remained silent the rest of the ride to the sports bar.
Not wanting to push my luck, I kept my mouth shut. When we arrived, I blocked traffic and let the cretin behind me blow his horn while I pulled her into my arms for a goodbye kiss.
“I’ll pick you up. What time do you get off?”
“I’m meeting Megan after work tonight. She’s picking me up. See you around. Thanks for the ride.” And out she went and on her way.
Message received. Leave her alone. Okay. For now.
I returned to my office, sweatshirt in hand, and wondered when I got there how I’d managed to live in the cramped space so long.
I’d struck out on getting laid again tonight. I wouldn’t be sleeping with Holly in a bed obviously built for me. But in the grand scheme of things, I’d scored big. I’d left my H/K speaker on her mantle, giving myself a reason to return to her home.
I’d also put a baby in her belly. I was going to be a father. I needed to tell someone. I called Jack.
“Meet me at Church’s place. I have news.”
“This about Marilyn?”
“If you get there first, order me a steak. Rare.” I avoided his question, knowing that if I mentioned Holly at all, I’d spill my guts over the phone. And I wanted to deliver the news personally.
He was the only dad I’d ever known. And he’d been a damned good one. He’d be shocked, I knew. Hey, I was. But he’d get accustomed to the idea of being a grandpa. I smirked. Grandpa Jack. Yeah. Still, I’d hold off on pushing that idea until the little fellow arrived.
As soon as I walked into the bar, I knew something was up. Church had his best Scotch on the bar and glasses lined up, and Jack, grinning from ear to ear, held a handful of Cubans in his fist.
“Congratulations, son,” he said, and pounded me on the back.
“Your woman’s saved from my planned advance,” Church assured me and filled the glasses.
“Marty, I’m so happy for you,” Elaine said, and handed me a drink. At my astonished stare, she said, “Jack called me. And it’s a good thing he did. Do you think I wanted to hear news like this through the grapevine?”
I turned my gaze from Elaine back to Jack, the grapevine. “I didn’t know. How could you? Did that little shit, Garret, tell you when he wouldn’t tell me a thing?” I looked around for said shit. He was lurking behind Church at the bar. Jack came to his rescue, though.
“Knew the minute I saw her throw-up all over your shoes. Kit’s mama puked just like that when she was carrying.”
“Nausea, referred to as morning sickness, although it can strike any time during the day,” Garret shared, coming out of hiding.
“And you didn’t think I should know that I’m having a kid?”
“There are rules,” he reminded me. “Besides, how was I to know you were the dork who’d fouled-up using a rubber?”
Jack lifted his glass and waited. I lifted my glass and clinked against his, Elaine’s, Church’s, and Garret’s. We all threw back together, celebrating the coming of my soon to be born son. At least, I hoped it would be a boy. Not that I had anything against girl babies. But since this kid would no doubt be my only child, if I could choose the sex, I’d choose a boy.
I swallowed the twenty-year-old Scotch, savoring the mellow burn as it slid down my throat.
“Ahh…” Jack slammed his glass down first. “Great booze. Fill me up again, Church.”
I started drinking at 6:00 p.m. and continued until I was beyond drunk when we closed down the place at 2:00 a.m. I didn’t want to stretch out in a booth. I didn’t want to go back to my office and sleep on my couch. I wanted Holly’s bed, with her in it beside me. I conveyed that wish to my drinking partners.
“Let’s go. We’ll tuck you in.” Church’s offer had me thinking of that giant bed, again.
“She said she had plans after work.”
“Maybe you should call her before we deliver you to her house,” Garret suggested.
I didn’t want to admit that I didn’t have her number. She’d already brushed me off once today, well really, yesterday. But before that, we’d had mind-altering sex. At least, my mind had been blown wide-open. And then I’d found out about the baby, I’d taken her to work, and she’d declined my offer to pick her up.
“Hey, she’s your baby’s mama. You don’t schedule an appointment with her. You show up and crawl in bed with her.” Jack’s version of courtship resonated with the drunks celebrating with me.
Garret, not drunk, drove. I sprawled on the passenger side of his Jeep giving him directions to Holly’s place. Jack sat in the backseat. It was a harebrained idea, but like I said, we were drunk.
Doubts arose about my welcome as soon as I saw the car occupying her driveway and the other car parked on the street in front of her house.
“Maybe this is a bad idea.” There were lights on. And music played inside. She had company. Nevertheless, I climbed out of the Jeep and checked out the black Mercedes SUV in front before I walked past the dark sedan in her drive.
I already knew the bell didn’t work, so when I stood in front of her door, moron that I was, I hammered on it. I had a grin plastered on my face when it swung open.
My smile froze in place when a man greeted me. “Can I help you?”
I noted the tailored slacks, red suspenders holding them up over a white tee shirt, bare feet and tousled hair. Shit.
“Sorry, sorry,” I mumbled, reeling backward. Too late, Jack was already on the porch and at my elbow.
“Who the hell are you?” he demanded. “And where the hell is Marty’s woman?”
“Check the time guys. It’s 3:00 in the morning. What the fuck do you want?” And there stood Holly’s friend, I thought her name was Megan.
Not one to back down, Jack said, “We want Holly. Marty wants to talk to his woman.”
Megan’s gaze swung my way.
“What?” Holly appeared behind her guests. I noticed that she stood a couple inches taller than the guy. It shouldn’t have given me smug satisfaction, but it did.
I couldn’t think of anything to say. Confronted with my reason for being there, I muttered, “I forgot my speaker when I left earlier.”
It was the booze talking. Honestly, I hadn’t intended to take it back. Even if she’d already moved on from me to the short guy, she’d need music for the baby in the next few months. Then I wondered if it was really my baby and not his. I couldn’t help it. My glare focused on him.
“I’m sorry. You can’t have it yet. We’re using it.”
What the fuck? Behind her, bass notes rumbled, and a saxophone sang.
“Using it for what?” As someone had already pointed out, it was three in the morning.
“Dancing.” She had the nerve to use my speaker to dance with her new guy.
“I want it back,” I growled. “Now.”
“Well, you can’t have it, now. You’ll have to wait until we’re done practicing. All of you, come in and quit scaring the neighbors.” As soon as we stepped through the door she introduced us.
“Roger, these three stooges are Marty Jones, the dance partner who made Marilyn famous, and also boss man at Smoke, Inc.; Dr. Garret Wilson, Smoke Inc. physician; and Church, owner and bartender of Smoke Inc.’s watering hole, Church’s Bar & Grill. You three already know Megan, and Megan knows everybody.” Holly then turned to me. “Marty and crew, this is Dr. Roger Valentine.” She didn’t elaborate, leaving a slew of unanswered questions about her new dance partner.
I hadn’t gotten a tour of the house, before, so the basement was a total surprise. A wet bar with my H/K sitting on the counter, filled one end of the thirty-foot room.
“Sit,” she ordered me, pointing at a bar stool. “Megan, make them some coffee. Roger, we’ll do this one more time.”
I sat. Jack, Garret and I watched Holly guide her dance partner through a tango into a pulse pounding rumba.
“No wonder she tried to lead when we danced,” I muttered aloud.
The rumba ended with her spinning her partner around, draping him over her arm, and bending him backward with a flourish.
“Coffee coming up, regular unless anyone’s got a preference,” Megan said, pointing at the Keurig and selection of coffee pods on hand.
“Black, plain.” I needed to sober up and figure out what was going on. I had a feeling I’d royally screwed up. The H/K was my ticket back into the house. But if I took my speaker with me, Holly might permanently bar her door.
Pressure beat a drum in my head. My coffee arrived, and I took a sip. The music ended. Holly threw a towel at her partner. He walked to the bar. I stood, ready to leave.
“Play it again, Megan. I know I didn’t get that last spin right.” Holly’s friend wiped his brow, drank from a bottle of water, and sat on a stool next to Garret. “Holly, why don’t you partner with Marty and demonstrate how it should look.”
I didn’t know Holly well enough to interpret her shrug. Not knowing what else to do to save the night and maybe get back into her good graces, assuming I’d ever been there, I shuffled to where she stood in the middle of the floor.
“You smell like a brewery,” she said, wrinkling her nose in distaste.
“You got a shower to loan me, I’ll take care of that. You can wash my back if you want.” I leered suggestively at her, ready to dodge the punch she looked ready to throw. But then magic happened. The music started.
Holly lifted her arms, I stepped closer, settled my hand on her hip, and we danced. A long time. With no words between us, we communicated with the greatest of ease. I didn’t know why she’d been dancing with the other guy, but it no longer mattered. She matched my steps, moved to my beat. We had rhythm.
Much, much later, I remembered that she was carrying my baby, or at least, she was potentially carrying my baby, and I danced us to a stop and pulled her closer.
“You need to get some sleep.”
“Yes, I do,” she agreed.
“Want company?” I asked hopefully.
“No.”
But it was okay. It didn’t seem like a rejection as much as a slap down for over-stepping into her world. And after her dancing friend walked me to the door, I didn’t worry about him anymore, either.
“I believe Holly left my bolero at your office the morning after the dance.”
“What’s a bolero?” I asked cautiously.
“My jacket. She wore it with my Marilyn Monroe outfit. Did me proud. You looked good, too. If you get a chance, see if you can find it, and send it over to me.” He gave me his card which I tucked into my pocket without looking at it.
Okay. I again left my speaker behind, but just to make sure she understood it wasn’t an accidental oversight, I kissed her forehead and told her, “Don’t break the H/K.”