I SQUINT AT the middle-aged man with a receding hairline. My nails, perfectly painted in night blue, produce a rhythmic sound on the sleek black rectangular table that takes up most of the meeting room’s space. The man fidgets, twisting his pudgy hands as sweat coats his wrinkled forehead. I lean back in the modern yet comfortable chair and nod once. He visibly relaxes, and a sigh escapes his thin lips.
“It’s a go, but Phil, if you mess up this contract, you won’t be answering to me, but to my father and he’s not easy going when there’s a screw-up. Are we clear?’’
“Y…Yes, of course, Adeline,’’ Phil stutters and wipes his forehead with the back of his hand.
Ew. I fight back the urge to scrunch up my nose in disgust. Instead, I nod again and stand up swiftly. I tug down my night blue suit vest and walk out, head high, heels clicking on the floor. Behind me, just as I’m leaving the stuffy meeting room, I hear the other chairs moving back when their occupants stand.
“Addy, wait up!’’
I freeze and turn around, knowing full well who’s behind this deep and gravely voice. Brock Lowe, also designated as my best friend since…well, since forever. Incidentally, he’s the only one allowed to call me Addy at work. He’s got a free pass for a lot of things, and he knows it.
“What do you want?’’ I ask when he falls into step beside me. With his height, he easily towers over me even though I’m wearing impossibly high heels every day despite the pain they put my feet in.
“Where is the love?’’ He chuckles and grabs my elbow to lead me to his office, passing by several employees saluting us either with a word or with a nod. “I thought you’d let Phil have a stroke before you gave him the green light. Poor guy.’’
I scowl at him, finally looking his way. Aside from his tall frame, he’s also very fit to the point that you’d never think he’s the one overseeing all our accounts and in charge of the money. He’s always been good with numbers, and since he started working here two years ago, the company had never been in such good shape. These days, it’s something not many companies can claim, and I’m damn proud of us. But let’s go back to his physical traits.
He’s fit, but it’s because he loves to work out. Whenever there’s a free slot in his hectic schedule, he goes straight to the gym and works out so hard you’d think he’s getting ready to beat the shit out of someone. What he told me once though, was that he’s taking care of his body and building his stamina for his extra-curricular activities that, more often than not, entail late-night hookups after an evening in a fancy club or other parties. Who can blame him though? The man is handsome with just enough edge and ruggedness to his looks to entice any and all breathing females. The five o’clock dark shadow adorning his cheeks, square jaw and high cheekbones is enough to give you naughty ideas while his pink lips shaped in a perfect bow catches the attention without much of an effort. And his eyes are a unique color of very light brown and vibrant gold that pierce the best shield anyone can muster.
The man is lethal for the female’s hearts, and he knows it.
“Do you remember what he did when we started working here?’’ I open his office door and let it hit the wall in a loud noise, making his assistant jump a mile from his chair. I walk in the big corner office overlooking the Chicago River. I go straight to the comfy sofa and take a seat, not even crossing my legs even though I’m in a skirt. It’s not like it’s going to shock Brock. “He deserves it.’’
“You're a bitch, admit it, Addy.’’
He closes the door with a kick of his expensive black shoes and sits beside me, an arm extended on the back of the couch and one of his long and strong legs over the other, bent at the knee. Even in a business suit, he is the picture of casualness.
“Weren’t you the one who wanted to punch him on his way to the parking lot after you heard him say that I’m just an airhead heiress of a company I’d be sure to fail and you an immature know-it-all jock only hired because you’ve been banging the aforementioned airhead?’’
He shrugs and waves. “It’s been almost two years. Water under the bridge and all that.’’ He glances at his watch and frowns. “And he was wrong on all accounts. People realized that fast.’’
I massage my temple, a headache starting to build its foundation. These days, I can’t escape it. I’m hanging so tight that I can’t even relax in my sleep. I can’t count how many times I woke up with my jaw aching from gritting my teeth all night. And it’s been going on for the last few months.
“Don’t ask me to get rid of one of the few perks of my job, Brock. Making men twice my age sweat is fun,’’ I reply with a sigh as I check my emails on my phone, quickly sending an answer to the legal department. “These idiots don’t even know how to do their work,’’ I mutter under my breath, earning me another chuckle.
I look up and glare at him. He holds up his hands in surrender and leans his head against the back of the couch. “It was another busy week, uh? What are your plans this weekend?’’
I freeze and ignore the extra fast beats of my heart while my lungs are asking for more oxygen than I’m already giving them. I’m burning from the inside.
I put my phone back in the pocket of my vest and straighten it, smoothing out the wrinkles ruining the perfect appearance of the tailored fabric. “There’s nothing much on my schedule. You know, the usual.’’
I glance at him when he sits straighter, his brown-gold eyes seeking my blue ones. I know this look. He’s always fixing me like this when he knows I’m hiding something. I have yet to discover how he does it, but ever since I’ve met him, it’s like he has a radar built in his head, going off whenever I lie or hide something.
He leans toward me, bringing his face very close to the point that I can see how unfairly long his eyelashes are. To have such long eyelashes, I need to put several coats of mascara on, and I’m a woman! I should have naturally long eyelashes.
Every speck of gold seems to blaze harder the longer he keeps his eyes locked on mine.
And I make the ultimate mistake.
I avert my eyes and surrender to him. “You’re so annoying! Without uttering a word you make me tell you everything.’’
“Don’t stall and spill what you’re hell-bent on keeping to yourself. My curiosity is piqued, now.’’
He glances at his watch once again, and I try not to get irritated. After all, it’s Friday, the day—and week—is basically over, and he must have a date or plans for the night.
When we were still in college, I used to follow him everywhere, enjoying the bachelorette life just like he still enjoys the bachelor life, but I grew out of it once I started a serious relationship that has since ended. But again, a Friday night in doesn’t sound that bad, and at least I have the time to catch up on my TV shows.
I take a deep breath, already bracing myself for his reaction. If I were in his shoes, I’d probably die of laughing too hard, but I’m not in his shoes and just thinking about his reaction is making me uneasy. I try coming up with an idea to run out of here, but I don’t have a choice right now. It’s time to fess up.
“I want a kid,’’ I blurt out, twining my thin fingers in my lap.
He blinks, looks me up and down and scratches his left cheek covered with his five o’clock shadow. “You’re only twenty-seven.’’
His blank voice isn’t something I expected. I clear my throat. “So?’’
He shakes his head and runs a hand through his jet black hair, messing with the orderly disarray of his locks. “You’re too young to have your clock ticking. And you’re single last time I checked.’’ He chuckles and shakes his head once again, apparently not taking me seriously.
“It’s been exactly a year to the today since I broke up with my last boyfriend.’’ Just thinking about that idiot has my stomach twisting and turning. It’s beyond saying that I have had a few hookups in my life, some of which were only that, hookups, but my last boyfriend used to be very important to me. I remember that I had started making silly plans for our future. What a joke!
He cringes but covers it quickly by uncrossing his legs and turning to face me. “Granted it’s a long time without sex, but most people would see this one year anniversary of singlehood as an excellent excuse to go on the prowl with one goal: have an orgasm before midnight.’’ He smirks at the last part of his sentence, and I roll my eyes.
“Coming from you it’s not a surprise. You’re a manwhore.’’
He waves me off and sobers up. Vanished is the smirk or the amused sparkle in his eyes. Instead, there is the business look, calculating his next move, or in this case, his next words. So far, he surprises me. I would have bet all my saving accounts that he’d be rolling on the ground, laughing into hiccups by now.
“Let’s see. You’re saying that your next boyfriend will be your husband and the father of your kids, is that right?’’
I scowl harder and run a hand through my straight mahogany hair, probably messing with my simple yet efficient hairdo. “Of course not! I mean, look at my track record with men. It’d be crazy.’’
He arches an eyebrow and pats my shoulder. “I think you’re already deep into crazy-land.’’
I cross my arms and look away. He can mock me all he wants; it doesn’t mean that I’m kidding or that it’s not something I’ve been thinking about for a while. “I just want a baby,’’ I say quietly, sadness I don’t want to let out lacing these five small words.
“And how will you manage that without a boyfriend?’’ he asks me, his voice getting softer. He’s not my best friend for nothing. Even though he’s pretty much a dick with every woman crossing his path, he’s really sweet and protective with me most of the time. There are glitches here and there of course, but he’s a man after all.
I shrug and relax a little at seeing him more ready to listen to me. At least he’s not just telling me to shut up and just forget it. “I’ll find a good guy, someone who had been without sex for a while, obviously, and tadaaa.’’ I move my hands and fingers as if to mimic an explosion under the incredulous eyes of a very subdued Brock, whose mouth is hanging slightly agape.
“If you want to have sex with a complete stranger without a condom it’s irresponsible. You won’t know where his dick had gone,’’ he says with a dark voice, his tone hard and definitive.
“If he’s a good guy, it should be fine.’’
“Because good guys don’t have STDs. That’s irresponsible.’’ He shakes his head, his leg moving up and down in a frenzy, his usual nervous tic. “And if you find a good guy he will want to be in the kid’s life.’’
I smile at him, feeling proud of myself for thinking through all the loop-holes. “He won’t know. When I’m at my prime time to conceive—which should be right this weekend starting tonight—I’ll go somewhere I never go, find a guy and do the deed.’’
“Sorry to break it to you, Addy, but once he knows your name, it’ll be easy for him to track you down. You’re on Twitter, Facebook and you work for a well-known company that belongs to your family and has your name on the building. Even your name appears once a month in at least one newspaper.’’
I wave his argument away as if it’s nothing. It’s a risk, I’m aware of it, but I’m willing to take it. I’m not that well-known aside from the advertising world and some top-notch companies we worked with. Otherwise, my face isn’t broadcasted everywhere. “I’ll play the mystery card and only give him my first name. If he’s on a dry spell, he won’t be that picky.’’ Yeah, he’d be too happy to get some.
“So you just want a bio dad, someone to give you his sperm without knowing it,’’ he resumes crudely, but accurately. I can give him that.
“Yes. I won’t be able to find a good guy anytime soon and you know I never wanted to have kids late. Do you remember when we were little and talked about it? I told you that I hated to have old parents because they weren’t fun like yours.’’
He rubs his eyes with the pad of his fingers. “We were six,’’ he says with a desperate sigh.
I shrug and brush an invisible lint off my skirt. “So? It still stands.’’ Hit with an idea, I suddenly grab his thick wrist. “Are you going to a bar or a club tonight?’’
He scowls and pushes my hand away. “I’m not going to chaperone you while you’re looking for the perfect bio dad. You’re on your own for this fucked up idea.’’
“Do you prefer to let me go alone? I could cross the path of a rapist or killer, Brock.’’
He grabs my shoulders and shakes me softly once. “My point! You can’t just pick a random guy, fuck him and hope to get pregnant!’’ He stands up and paces the office, his suit making a soft noise at every one of his steps. “And I won’t wait for you while you fuck him. It’s asking for too much, even for me.’’
“Brock,’’ I whine, jutting out my lower lip. “I really want a kid.’’
“Find something else. You have enough money to get in vitro if it’s that important to you.’’
I make a face and stand up. “It’s creepy.’’
“And wanting to trap a guy into conceiving with you without his knowledge isn’t?’’
“Let’s be clear, Brock,’’ I say and cross my arms over my chest. “I will follow you wherever you’re going, and I will find a guy tonight. You can be there for me if I need you, or you can ignore me all night. Your call.’’
He stares at my face intently, trying to find a crack or something he can exploit, but soon he abandons. Yep, I made up my mind, and I’m not going to backtrack. I’m ferocious in the business because I’m stubborn and tenacious that way, but it also applies to my personal life. Brock knows it.
“All my life you’ve made me do things I never wanted or thought of doing.’’ He scowls at me and points at the door for me to go out.
Game on!