by Quinn, Cari
“I let you down,” I whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
She clasped her hands between her jean-clad thighs and bowed her head, and if I hadn’t been on the verge of tears already, that would’ve done it. They spilled over, hot and thick, and I nearly choked on them as I fought to speak. “Don’t hate me, please. I need you. I can’t do this alone.” I didn’t think I could do it, period, but if she wasn’t by my side…
I covered my mouth and rocked.
Her shoulders shook, and seeing her cry was like a blow to the chest. I couldn’t breathe through it, couldn’t do anything but throw my arms around her and bury my face in her hair. Her body was as stiff as board, completely unyielding to me. “I love you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Those moments when she didn’t respond were the longest of my life. Then her arms came up around me, and I let out a sob. And clung like a little girl.
“Shh, shh, it’s okay. It’s all going to be okay.” She rubbed my back and kissed my head, just as she had a million times before when I’d cried.
She didn’t hate me. Oh, God, she didn’t hate me.
After a few minutes, she drew me back and cupped my cheeks, studying me minutely. “You’re all right? I mean physically?”
Mutely, I nodded.
“You’re not…I don’t know, sick or anything? Isn’t that part of it?”
I jerked a shoulder. “I haven’t been sick at all. Well, other than when I puked up that wine, but…” I trailed off at the horror on her face. “It was only two glasses,” I said weakly. “I had it on an empty stomach.”
“You can’t drink now.”
“I know that.” I sighed. “I’m super hormonal though, so you know, tread gently.”
She frowned and reached down to peel up my T-shirt. My belly was just as flat as ever, and I guess she decided the same because her frown spread. “You sure? That doesn’t look like a preggo belly to me.”
“It’s early yet. Super early. Like barely a baby.”
“So that means…”
Reading the speculative look in her eyes, I shook my head. “I’m having it.” I’d already considered and rejected the options. It would be hard, but I could do it.
I’d wanted to be an adult so badly. I’d get my chance now, that was for sure.
“That’s not what I meant. I was counting forward and figuring it’d be a next summer baby? Ish?”
I nodded.
“Of course you’re having it. You’re not aborting my baby.” She expelled a breath. “I mean, it’s your baby, but dammit, now that I know about it, it’s mine too. And it’s not going anywhere.”
My eyes filled again, happy tears this time. I sniffled and pointed next to my head. “See what I mean? There’s no off button.”
“You’re allowed, considering the circumstances. If it was me, I’d still be curled up in the fetal position on the floor.”
“No, you wouldn’t, because Fox would be carrying you through town.” Shaking my head, I briefly recounted the story of how I’d told him I was knocked up.
Her eyes widened and slitted about five times during the telling, then she propped her fists on her hips. “That jerk knew first and he didn’t tell me?”
“Don’t be mad at him. I made him promise. He insisted I tell you. God, Ame, he was so sweet.” I sniffled again and tried to catch some of the deluge with my sleeve. “He’s going to be a great daddy someday.”
“Not listening. Not listening.” She plugged her fingers in her ears and made me laugh through my tears. “La, la, la.”
Gently, I drew her hands away from her ears. “One baby at a time.”
“You got that right.” She squeezed my hands before pulling me to my feet. “Well, I guess we’d better start preparing. No time to waste.”
I blinked. “For what? I already have dinner planned. I figured we’d have sweet potatoes and roast pork with—”
“No, no, not dinner. I mean for the baby. We’ll have to get a bigger place, but we needed to, anyway. It’ll probably be a long-term project for us to find what we want, apartment-wise, so in the meantime, we’ll have to figure out a new arrangement for our current place. Either way, we need to start looking now. Finding housing is a pain, and we’ll want to stay in Brooklyn because I think that’s a better place to raise a child.”
I followed her to the door and out to the street. “But it’s only a few weeks in—”
She opened the passenger door of Fox’s ‘Vette and waved me inside. “It’s never too soon to start making preparations.” She shut my door and rounded the car. She got behind the wheel and eased away from the curb once she’d ascertained the street was as empty as it would ever get on this side of town. “Can’t be too careful, with a baby on board,” she added as she signaled into traffic.
“No,” I said faintly. “That’s true.”
Don’t panic. She’s just excited. She’s not going to try to run your baby’s life—and yours—like a drill sergeant on crack.
I tried to steer the conversation back to safer topics than the current state of my uterus. “I thought I’d make tiramisu for dessert.”
“That has caffeine in it. I’m not sure, but is that good for the baby? Not that I’m an expert or anything.”
Don’t get annoyed. She’s just trying to help.
“The amount is really tiny,” I began.
“Okay, you’re the food expert. But maybe ask the doctor to make sure.”
“Uh, I haven’t, um, been to a doctor about this yet.”
“What?”
“I just discovered it the other day. Did you miss the part about my being barely pregnant?”
“No, I just assumed you’d follow up with a doctor before you started making plans.”
“I didn’t want to do anything before I told my family.” I crossed my arms. No matter what, my sister had an uncanny way of making me feel five.
Would that still be the case when I had a five-year-old?
I shuddered. God, there was a frightening thought. A cute, talcum-powder-smelling-baby was scary enough.
“Good. That’s good. We can arrange a doctor’s appointment soon enough.”
Knowing I was likely opening a box of vipers, I asked what was hovering on the tip of my tongue. “Aren’t you…aren’t you curious about the father?”
Not that I wanted her to be. Even a little bit. But still, wasn’t that usually at least a consideration? She was acting like I’d been visited by the stork in the dark of night.
She waved my question away. “If he was a factor, you’d have mentioned it already. Nope, this baby is ours now, and we’ll take care of it.” She reached over and patted my leg. “Everything’s going to be fine. Just sit back and relax. In your condition, you shouldn’t be getting upset.”
I sat back, but I sure didn’t relax. Because the weirdness right now was epic.
When we walked into the apartment, Fox was kicked back on the couch playing golf on the Xbox. Normally, he would’ve been at class, but he’d skipped it since he knew I was planning to tell his supposed better half the news this afternoon.
To say he was surprised to look up and see Ame and I strolling through the door like any other day, no tears in sight, was an understatement.
“Hi,” he ventured.
“Hello,” Mia said coolly, sailing past him and into the kitchen. “Carly, you should probably hydrate.”
Behind my sister’s back, I stuck out my tongue.
“Don’t stick your tongue out at me, Carly Ann.” She came back and held out a bottle of water. “Drink.”
“How does she always know?” I wondered before uncapping the bottle. And draining half of it in one swallow.
Guess I really was thirsty.
“So, ah, how are things?” Fox leaned over to peer intently into my eyes. “You don’t look like you’ve been tortured for your secrets.”
I had to giggle. “No. No torturing.”
“Does she know?” he asked in an unfortunately loud whi
sper.
“Yes, Fox, I know. Thank you very much for nada.” Mia flopped down beside him on the couch and sulkily grabbed the other controller. “What happened to sharing with your partner? What happened to being honest at all costs?”
“Told you,” he said out of the side of his mouth, and I giggled again.
Okay, so my family was a little bit nuts, but I loved them. Maybe everything really would be okay.
“I need to make a quick phone call, then I’ll get dinner started.”
I was firmly ignored since Fox and my sister were now arguing over golf.
Golf, of all things.
Taking advantage of their distraction, I headed into the bedroom and sent up a prayer of gratitude at finding it empty. I just needed a few moments of privacy to call my bestie and ask her for a colossally huge favor. But hell, I was on a roll. Hopefully, it would remain a Kaiser and not change into an onion one, because I hated those.
Curling up on the bed, I called Jenna.
“’Sup?”
“’Sup yourself. Busy?”
“For you, always.” Her laughter made me smile. She always sounded so young and carefree, even though she was a couple of years older than me. “Let me guess. You’re finally calling to fess up all the sins you’ve been dancing around for weeks but not sharing because you don’t want your bff to have good gossip.”
“More like I don’t want you talking to your brother.”
“Which one? Oldest PITA or middle PITA?”
“Either, but in this case, specifically middle.”
“Um, okay, but why?”
“Because I talked to Slater already about some of this, and let’s just say he doesn’t agree with my choices.”
Not that I could even blame him for that, because he was right. Giovanni and assorted others he gravitated to weren’t exactly the best influences.
Which was why I was steering far clear of all of them for the foreseeable future. At least until next summer, at which time I might reevaluate. But while I had a kid in my belly to look out for, no matter how I missed Gio and wished things could be different, I wasn’t going near him. Because things weren’t different, and he’d made it clear I would never be his choice.
I might be slow to take a hint, but once I had, there was no going back.
“Which choices?” Jenna asked suspiciously, sounding every bit like the sister of a SEAL.
I liked her older brother Liam a lot. He was just a rigid thinker. Jenna might live a sheltered lifestyle, but at least she was open-minded in theory if not in deed.
“He’s not happy with a guy I’m seeing. Was seeing.” I lowered my voice. That topic wouldn’t be discussed under this roof, not while my sister and Fox were battling it out on the virtual golf green just feet away. “But that’s not why I’m calling.”
“Why are you calling then? Since it sure seems like you’re still telling me a whole lot of nothing.”
“You remember how I said I was dancing on the side?” I tried to keep my voice close to a whisper, but not so low that Jenna thought I was whispering. “Well, I’m quitting. The money’s great, but it’s just not for me anymore.”
“Okay.” She made the word have about five syllables. “Whatever is best for you.”
“Yeah, but there’s a schedule conflict. I have another week left, and next Friday is Fox’s fight. I need to be there.”
“And, what, you can’t get anyone to cover for you?”
“Not yet, no. Everyone’s busy that night, and the girl who owed me a favor just quit herself. So I’m kind of in a pinch. But I have one more night after that one, so I don’t want to ditch my shift because like I said, the money’s good, and since I’m going to be short for a while…”
Plus, I now had a baby to think about along with school, so I needed to collect every spare penny I could get. I’d probably end up going full-time at the Salad Hut until I could get a better position.
Dancing might pay well, but that life wasn’t for me. Even if the club wasn’t overrun with criminals and other unsavory types, I deserved better than that. Too bad it had taken me so long to see it.
Besides, I was pretty sure me shaking it with a big belly wouldn’t excite anyone but the fetishists, and ugh, no thanks.
“What kind of dancing we talking about here, Anderson? Because I have a feeling you’re not telling me this just to share.”
Yep, suspicious as hell. Understandably, in this case. If I had room left for emotional crises, I’d be drowning in guilt from what I was about to ask. But I didn’t have any other choice short of missing Fox’s fight with he who would not be named, whose presence at the match was just incidental. And Jenna would make a good night’s take from it, because I wasn’t going to ask for a percentage. I just wanted to make sure I’d have a job left for the next night.
In my situation, an extra couple hundred dollars was important. Just not more important than missing my almost brother-in-law’s fight, since the last time he’d fought Giovanni he’d ended up in the hospital.
“It’s…suggestive dancing,” I hedged. “Very suggestive. Similar to what I’ve seen you do when we go out. You have moves, Walsh.”
Only difference is, you need to lose your top.
“You’ll be in a cage. But only for about an hour and a half total, with a short break between.”
“A cage? What the hell kind of dancing are you doing?”
I couldn’t lie to her. It wasn’t right, and no way would I send her into that situation without the facts. Well, regarding the job anyway. “Topless.”
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. You’ve been topless dancing since…since…”
“Springtime,” I supplied. “And I’ve made a lot of money doing it. A lot, Jen. On one weekend night, you could easily clear two large.”
“Two large as in grand?”
“Not that large.” I think I had my money euphemisms messed up. “Medium-large then. Two hundred bucks.”
“Wow, it takes me two weeks to make that much at The Cage.” She was a part-time front counter receptionist along with going to school for, of all things, a dual major in French and theology. She hoped one day to teach at the university level and claimed she’d decided to major in theology over philosophy to broaden her mind. She wasn’t overly religious, just curious.
On second thought, she was probably the absolute worst person to ask to dance in a glorified titty bar.
“You know, the more I think about this, the more I realize it’s a bad idea. I was desperate, which is the only reason I asked you.”
“Gee, thanks. My breasts are every bit as good as yours, dammit.” She sighed. “Okay, fine, they aren’t. Yours are like melons. But mine are nice too.”
I took a peek down my shirt. If they were like melons now, what would they be like in a few months? Hot air balloons? “Yours are great. It’s not that—”
“It’s because you think I don’t know how to grind, right? You always tease me about that.”
“No, it’s not about your dancing skills.”
“Then what? Why can’t I make two large in a night like you?”
“Let’s see. Because your brother—brothers, plural—would kick my ass for even mentioning this to you.”
And they’d be right. It had to be hormones. That was why I’d asked a theology student to dance half naked to save a job I’d already quit so I could go watch my mob-affiliated baby daddy in an illegal underground fight.
I grabbed the pillow and pulled it over my head. “I make such bad choices,” I moaned.
“This wasn’t a bad choice. You turned to me as a close confidant, assuming that as an experienced, twenty-one year old woman of the world equipped with nice breasts, I could dance for you for approximately ninety minutes without anyone being the wiser. We are similar heights and similar builds, minus the aforementioned boobage,” Jenna mused. “The hair’s a problem though. My baby fine blond can’t hold a curl to save my life.”
“I wear wigs.”
&n
bsp; I bit the pillow. Someday I would learn to pipe down. That day was obviously not today.
“So that’s why you store your awesome wig collection at my place. I always wondered why you changed your look more often than a CIA agent. So I could go with pitch black hair down to my butt?”
“Sure, if you could find a wig like that before next Friday night.”
“Cool. I’m in,” she said cheerfully. “Do I need to wear glittery stuff? Because I’m not the best with sparkles. Maybe a leather halter and mini? Jaycee has an outfit like that in her closet.”
Jaycee was her roommate and she probably had a few shelves of stripper-appropriate gear. “That’s fine. Look, Jen, you really don’t have to do this. Maybe I should bring you to the club first, so you could get a feel for it?”
Then again, Gio would be there tonight, so that wasn’t the best idea. I didn’t know if he’d ignore me entirely or if I’d start sobbing at the sight of him—hormones were a bitch—but either way, the fewer witnesses, the better.
“Actually, go check out the website,” I said before she could answer me. “ThePyramidClub.com. Take a few days to think on it. If you decide it’s not for you, no problem. I’ll just…do something else.”
They didn’t need me at the fight. I might as well shake my soon-to-be hormonally enhanced boobs for change while the guys worked on putting each other in traction.
“Oooh, the site is so classy! I love it. And the pictures of the club, wow, it seems really swank.”
Not so much when you were in a cage looking down at the masses, but I wasn’t about to pop her delusion balloon. “A lot of high-rollers go there,” I admitted.
And mob guys, and criminals, and murderers…
Just your everyday, wholesome family environment. Hell, I’d probably gotten in the family way there, so—
I frowned. It was just as likely the deed had been done at Gio’s apartment as in that back room. I refused to believe my child had been conceived as part of some elaborate…what? God, I didn’t even know why they did the things they did. Why they’d selected me and insisted we have sex for their sick entertainment.