Evie

 

I hated being cooped up. I hated having nowhere to go. Mostly, though, I hated how my thoughts kept going back to him.

 

Tony.

 

I'd been in exile—because I refused to call it anything but that—for at least two weeks now. My only human company was the woman who betrayed me to my father, and I refused to give her the satisfaction of seeing me in any state other than angry. When I was alone, however, I found myself sad. Frustrated. Guilty.

 

My father ordered me to speak not a word of my pregnancy to anyone, but especially not to Tony. He refused to have any sort of confirmed, legitimate connection made between myself and the father of the little life growing inside me. It caused an argument, one that I had inevitably caved on; I thought that Tony should, at the very least, know that he had a child somewhere, and my father disagrees.

 

I grappled with myself. Would Tony even care if he had a child? Would he even want it? Would he think it was his to begin with? So many men denied their paternal links to children who could only be theirs. In all honesty, it wouldn't surprise me. Tony was a mafia boy. Weren't they known for being deadbeats? After all, he had taken me down an alleyway to screw me, without protection.

 

Then again, I had let him. So what did that say about me?

 

I stood in my shower, thinking this over and finally coming to the conclusion that my thoughts had been pushing and pushing me to since I found out about this accidental little life that I was now carrying. I had pulled some strings, and while I hadn't gotten Tony's number, I did get the number to a bar he and his mafia boy frequented often before I had even found out I was pregnant. In all honesty ...Tony left a very good impression, and I'd started to crack on my 'never again' declaration. I'd at least wanted to see if he wanted another go. Now, it seemed, I'd be using that number for something else.

 

When I got out of the shower, I dried and dressed quickly. Hair pristine and clothes comfortable. My father had made it clear that I was to dress as normally and inconspicuously as possible and keep myself from the public eye as much as possible. Out here few people probably know who I was or who my father was. It was what my father would call ‘country.’ When I was done, I came out of my room, immediately greeted by Mary Ann.

 

"Are you going somewhere, Miss Evelyn?" she asked.

 

"Evie, and I'm just going for a walk," I said, hoping to throw her off my trail.

 

"I'll get my purse."

 

Seems I wasn't that lucky.

 

My father had tasked her with keeping an eye on me, and with making sure that I wasn't trying any "funny business." I guessed that meant making sure that I wasn't going to contact Tony, or the press, or something equally damaging for everyone involved. That is fine, though. There were a number of ways to get Mary Ann off my tail, and I was going to call Tony!

 

We didn't drive anywhere. We walked. The car was for emergencies and necessities, such as picking up groceries. I thought my father thought that it was supposed to be a punishment to me, but the joke was on him; I loved to walk, and Mary Ann was slow.

 

I didn't set a pace she was easily able to keep up with. We walked down the road, with the house that my father had set up for me being a little out of the way, before ending up in the "main" part of the tiny town.

 

"Miss Evelyn!"

 

I could hear her panting behind me, struggling to try and keep up with me. I almost felt badly for her, but I couldn't bring myself to do so. She was the reason that I had been put into this predicament, stripped of my agency and my right to privacy from my father.

 

My heart raced and adrenaline pumped. I got faster and faster, until I was at a light jog, trotting away from Mary Ann. Her shouts died out as I ran down the main road, turned, ran, then turned again, ditching her as I made my way to a little diner in the heart of the town.

 

"Morning, Miss Joan."

 

"Morning, Joe."

 

The Diner—which was what it was called; not very creative, really—buzzed with the few people who were in it, and I was greeted by the owner as I walked in. Joe was an older man, around the same age as Mary Ann, but I liked him a great deal more. He called me Joan because it was what my father had demanded—that I give people a fake name, so even if they thought they recognized me, I still had some sort of cover.

 

"You eating today, sugar? Where's that granny of yours?"

 

"Not eating today, no. And she's home, resting. I just needed to use the phone."

 

"Take all the time you need, sugar."

 

My father had taken my phone before I left. He thought that it gave me too much freedom—freedom that I would "have to earn back, long and hard," according to him. He seemed to not realize there were other ways of getting word out to people, and I hastily made my way to the little payphone in the back of the diner, sliding in some quarters and dialing the number to the bar.

 

Ring ... Ring ... Ring ...

 

"Come on, come on, pick up ..."

 

"Sunsets, what do you need?"

 

I jumped at the sound of the voice, embarrassing myself even though I couldn't be seen.

 

"Hey, yo, don't tie up my line. What do you need? I got work to do."

 

"Yes, right, sorry. I was wondering if I could leave a message for someone."

 

"Eh? Message for who, woman? This ain't no call center."

 

"Yes, I know, sorry. But I wanted to leave a message for Tony Esposito? I know he goes there a lot and this is really important—"

 

"Tony? Aye, yeah, I know Tony. Ain't taking no messages for him. Talk to him ya damn self."

 

"Wait, no—" This was likely my one and my only chance to tell Tony about the baby! I couldn't lose this opportunity!

 

I heard muffled noises on the other side and felt myself panicking. That was, until his voice filtered through.

 

"Hey, who is this? I'm a little fucking busy right now so make it quick—"

 

"Tony?"

 

There was a pause.

 

"Evelyn?"

 

"Evie," I corrected. "But. Uhm. Yeah. Hi."

 

"Hi."

 

He sounded surprised to hear from me, and I couldn't blame him. I was the one, after all, who had told him we wouldn't be seeing each other again. Though I suppose that wasn't wrong—we probably wouldn't be seeing each other again, even if I had gotten the chance to contact him.

 

"What are you—shit. I've been looking all over the Goddamn place for you!" he said. I was surprised at the frustration. "I was about to head out—"

 

"What do you mean, head out?" Now I was confused. "Tony, listen, we need to talk—"

 

"I know about the pregnancy test."

 

I was silent.

 

"Evie?"

 

"How—how did you find out? My father—"

 

"Has you shacked up in some tiny-ass town with no way of getting out and about. Yeah. I know. Did you honestly think I was gonna forget about you?"

 

"It's what we agreed to."

 

I heard him laugh.

 

"Baby girl, you let me fuck you like that, there was no goddamn way I wasn't gonna get it again. But then there's this baby thing."

 

"That's what I was going to call you about."

 

"Why didn't you call me before your father sent you off?"

 

"I—"

 

How was I supposed to answer that? With a you don't know my father? With a this was the only thing I could do? With an I'm scared?

 

Those were things I would never admit aloud to Tony, that was for damn sure.

 

I sighed.

 

"I made some mistakes," I said.

 

"Yeah, well, we both did, but I'm gonna fix that shit."

 

"Tony—"

 

"That baby in you is mine," he said. "And that makes you and it my responsibility. You think your dick-head of a father is gonna keep me from what's mine—"

 

"I don't belong to you, Tony—"

 

"I'm coming to get you, Evie—"

 

"Tony, no, you're not!" I hadn't realized I'd raised my voice, but when I did, I blushed. I saw a couple of patrons looking at me and mouthed 'I'm sorry' at them for disrupting their meal. That was rude of me; I shouldn't have done that.

 

"Listen, Tony, please. You don't understand," I whispered. "My father made me swear not to tell you about this. I'm going to be out here for nine months. I'm going to have this baby. And then I'm going to give this baby away. I was only calling so that you knew that you have a son or daughter out there somewhere—"

 

"Is that what you chose, or what your father chose?" he demanded.

 

I swallowed. "Tony, you don't know my father."

 

"And your father obviously doesn't know who the fuck he's dealing with."

 

Then the line went dead.

 

My hand trembled and I felt sick. I hung up the phone.

 

What the hell had I just set in motion?

 

# # #

 

"What did we agree to when I sent you out there?"

 

"That I would keep my head down, that I would listen to your rules, and that I wouldn't cause any trouble."

 

"Then why did Mary Ann have to call me, informing me that you ran from her today, going who knows where to do God knows what?"

 

I rolled my eyes.

 

"It's not like I can get pregnant again, father, so I don't think you have to worry about another indiscretion."

 

My father's sigh on the other side of the phone sounded like he was ready to be done with me. Honestly, I wished he would be. This whole ordeal was insane. It was the twenty-first century; yet here I was like it was nineteen-hundred and I was some good Catholic girl knocked up by the neighbor boy, whisked off into the night so that no one knew her nasty little secret.

 

Why had I agreed to this? Why?

 

"We talked about this, Evelyn. Remember what we agreed to? Say it. Say it out loud, girl."

 

Right. I remembered.

 

"This is better for the baby, and for my future," I parroted off. "I can't have a career with a baby this young, and I can't do it with the stain of mafia ilk, either. It wouldn't be able to have a normal life. I wouldn't be able to be happy."

 

"Exactly. Think about that the next time you run off. Now. What were you doing?"

 

"I just wanted some alone time," I said, exasperated. That wasn't really a lie.

 

"Hm. Well remember that you haven't earned alone time, and until you start showing me that you're grateful for my efforts to preserve your image, you won't be getting it."

 

He hung up.

 

I flung the phone away from me. It was Mary Ann's, anyway. She picked it up from the floor, frowning.

 

"Miss Evelyn—"

 

"Don't talk to me," I snapped. "I'm going to bed."

 

I couldn't find it in myself to feel sorry for being so angry at her. Mostly, I was angry at myself. My father had orchestrated all of this, but it was me who had let him cow me under. I flung myself onto my bed when I got to my room, groaning in frustration.

 

I was young, beautiful, and intelligent. I was supposed to be living my life—one-night stands like the one I had with Tony were my right as a young woman! Get it all nice and out of the way before ...

 

My hand settled on my belly. I hadn't started showing yet. It was too early. But I still knew what lay inside me. I never admitted it to my father, but the feeling that I’d had when I had seen that little plus sign on my pregnancy test hadn't been one of dread, but elation. I had been excited. I'd always wanted to be a mother at some point. Father had always told me that such notions were silly, though—that children only ever got in the way of the future and that I could entertain my fantasies after I was done getting ahead in life.

 

I'm coming for you, Evie.

 

I sighed. That's what Tony had said. It was foolish as hell for him to think he was going to, and it was dumb of me to want it, but I did. Just like the night that led to this conception, I knew it was wrong and silly—but it was exciting and dangerous and I wanted it. I wanted him to take me away.

 

But ...did I want him? Did I want him to be the father of my child? Did I want him to possess me?

 

I had no idea. But it wasn't like Tony would actually come for me, anyway.

 

# # #

 

Rick Brown got off the phone with his daughter. Irritation colored his aged-yet-handsome face. Stupid, silly girl. Spreading her legs in an alley like some sort of whore, then having the nerve to be indignant when he didn't coddle her for the mistake that came with it. He shook his head, sighing. She should feel lucky that he didn't send her to get it scraped from her belly. She should be grateful that he was being generous enough to welcome her back after her little romp that led to the bastard inside her.

 

His eyes fell to a picture on his desk. A beautiful woman, with blonde hair—the same as Evelyn’s. He touched the framed picture fondly. Evelyn resembled her mother in a number of ways. It was merely unfortunate that she didn't behave like her as well. His beautiful wife ...had died to bring their ungrateful child into this world, and now Evelyn dared to throw away that life on what? Some mafia thug?

 

Rick Brown shook his head and was ready to stand and leave for a meeting when his phone rang. Perhaps it was Evelyn, calling to apologize for her poor behavior, but—no. An unknown number.

 

"What's this ..."

 

He answered with caution.

 

"Rick Brown," he said. "Who is this?"

 

"Tony Esposito. We need to talk."

 

Rick grimaced and sat down. He alluded nothing to his mood, however, playing calm.

 

"And what does the great Tony Esposito want with me?"

 

"I want you to hear it from me when I tell you that your attempts failed, and I'm getting what's mine, Rick." The boy sounded so confident with himself. Rick scoffed.

 

"And what, exactly, do you think is yours?"

 

"Your daughter, for one," he said. "And that baby that you tried to keep from me."

 

"So Evelyn did contact you."

 

"I found out about the baby before she called me. You see, she left such an impression when she was suckin' my cock—"

 

"You will not speak about my daughter like this. She may have let you slither inside her and plant your little bastard, but Evelyn is a Brown, and she will get more respect than that—"

 

"You mean the same kinda respect that makes a father send his daughter away to some little Podunk town in the middle of nowhere so she can have her baby in secret like it's a shame, then give it away? 'Cause, lemme tell you, I think that's pretty fucked up, and you know what I'm capable of."

 

"That I do."

 

"Then you know better than to stop me when I take your daughter and that baby."

 

"You touch my daughter and I'll have you killed—"

 

"You so much as breathe in my direction and I'll cut off your balls. And that's before I let one of my boys at your ass for thinking you were gonna fuck with me and mine, Governor. We'll call it even-stevens if you leave me to get mine, I'll make sure that any dirt the family has on you stays as far out of the spotlight as it has been lately."

 

"You're blackmailing me? Do you want to start a war, boy? I could crush you."

 

"You decided to start a war when you thought you were gonna hide my child away from me."

 

The phone went dead.