by Tasha Fawkes
“Keep doing that and I’ll buy you lunch every day,” he mutters.
We go out for lunch at a café just around the corner from where we are meeting the rest of his family for this will reading. Rex barely speaks through the whole meal, which shows me just how nervous he is. I don't know much about his family, other than the brief encounters I've had with Matt. He seems okay, a little tightly strung, but nice, aside from the ruining my father’s life thing.
From what Rex has said, he has more of a problem with the rest of his family than with Matt. I can't even imagine what they’re going to be like. I feel awkward already, just knowing that he has such a volatile relationship with them.
“Are you okay?” I ask him.
I lean across the table and take his hand. He pushes aside his risotto and smiles stiffly at me. He waves his hand to the waiter and orders a Scotch.
“Do you want a drink?” he asks me.
“Uh, sure,” I say with a tight smile. “But is drinking really going to help?” I ask.
He frowns at me and I hold my hands up, already knowing that comment was out of line.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“No, you’re right,” he says, cutting in. “But at this stage, I'm too nervous not to have something to take the edge off.”
I nod. “Is it anything specific that you’re worried about?”
He chuckles. “Just the fact that you asked me that shows how little you know my family.” He sighs and sits back in his chair. “I guess I’m worried it’s not over. Because it never is really over. There's always some curveball that my grandfather has thrown in. I don't believe this is the end of it, I just hope it's the end of my part.”
“So now you think it moves on to Nate, or something?” I frown.
He shrugs. “Maybe. I'm mean, it makes sense, right? First Matt had to do something and then me. Why not Nate too? I don’t even want to think about what he's got in store for him. Grandfather was always about going out with a bang and saving the showstopper until last.”
“Do you get along with Nate?” I ask.
Rex shrugs. “Not really. No more or less than Matt, I guess. Nate and Matt used to get along really well, until this whole thing happened with Grandfather’s will. It brought out the worst in everyone and their relationship hasn't been the same since.” He glances at me, a small smile on his lips. “Is it wrong that I kind of like that?” he asks.
“Probably,” I say with a grin. “But I understand. What about your mother?” I ask.
He laughs. “That’s an interesting word for her,” he says. “Creator, maybe. Dictator, yes. But mother? She’s never been the loving and nurturing type.” He shakes his head. “Even as a child, she still had this level of disdain toward me, like I was wasting her time.” I frown, his words upsetting me. How could any mother treat her children that way? He glances at his phone and sighs. “I guess we better go. You sure you want to come?”
“I’m sure,” I say with a confident smile as I link my arm through his.
We’re standing outside the building where Henry Burns’ office is, about to walk inside, when Matt calls out to Rex. We turn around and see him and his wife, Charlene, hurrying toward us. I smile at Charlene. Though I haven't met her before, she seems nice.
“Sorry,” Rex says, shaking his head. “Where are my manners? Charlene, this is my friend Shana. Shana, this is Matt's wife, Charlene.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say.
I put my hand out, and Charlene shakes it.
“So any idea what this is about?” Rex asks Matt. He shakes his head.
“None,” he says with a frown. “No doubt it's another spanner about to be thrown into the works.”
“I guess we'll find out,” Rex mutters.
We walk inside the room where the meeting is to take place and take a seat at the conference table. Rex’s mother is already there, looking pleased and perfectly poised. She looks up and smiles, first at Rex and then at me.
“How lovely to see you,” she says to Rex. “Who’s your little friend that you brought along to our family concerns?” she adds, giving me a cold look.
Rex shakes his head, while I stand there, feeling mortified.
“Mother, get off your high horse. This is my friend, Shana.”
“Oh, this is the daughter of the man whose life you destroyed?” she sneers, a smile on her lips.
“Yes,” Rex snaps. “Now, if you’re quite done,” he mutters.
He sits down, and I sit down next to him. I feel awkward as his mother turns to me and smiles.
“I'm so sorry, Shana, where are my manners? I’m Rex's mother. It's lovely to meet you,” she says as she extends her hand around her son. I take it, shaking it quickly as I flash her a smile.
“Nice to meet you,” I say, my heart racing.
“I must say,” she says, turning her attention to Rex. “I was shocked to hear that you achieved what you did, but then again, I'm always shocked to hear when you achieve anything.”
It takes everything for me not to snap and slap her across the face, because what kind of mother speaks to her own son like that? My hands clench into fists beside me as I think something I’m ashamed to admit even entered my mind.
I'd rather have no mother than have someone like her in my corner.
Rex simply chuckles and shakes his head, like he’s used to her talking to him like that.
“Yes, Mother. I can actually achieve something on my own. Who would've thought?” he says.
He clears his throat as Nate walks in and sits down. I watch their mother interact with Nate. She is totally different, almost pleasant. I glance at Rex, who just shrugs. Maybe I’m being naive, but it doesn't feel right to treat one son differently than the others.
Rex glances at me again and this time, I smile. A shiver races through me as he creeps his hand around mine underneath the table. I'm feeling good about the two of us. This is my fresh start, my new beginning and damn, it feels good. So much has happened over the last few weeks, but being here today shows not only myself but also to Rex that I believe in us. I really do believe that he loves me and that together, we can be something great.
Now all I need to do is sort things out with my father.
It’s going to take time to heal, but the space and time apart it's probably the best thing for both of us right now. I think we need that. I think we've been living in each of his pockets for so long that we haven't really had a relationship at all. I'm not banking on the fact that we will ever be able to have a functional relationship, but who knows what the future holds.
Henry Burns walks in and sits down. He smiles briefly across the table and then opens the folder in front of him, clearing his throat.
“This will be the final reading of William Harris’ will,” he says, loosening his tie.
I watch as Rex exchanges a look with Matt, both of them appearing very nervous. I glance around the room.
Everyone looks nervous, because everyone is terrified about what is coming next.
I hope you enjoyed Forced to Yield. Turn the page to read Played.
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Played
One
Sarah
Present Day
Nausea welled up into my throat from the knot in my stomach as I stood in front of Kelli Spencer's door in the apartment building nearby Silverlake, my heart pounding.
Why the hell had I agreed to this? It was ludicrous. Even more, it was wrong. Wasn't it?
Lifting my hand, I prepared to knock, and hesitated. I was doing the right thing. Not only for me, but also for my three-month-old son, Ethan. Wasn't I?
I would do anything for Ethan. Even this. I’d run out of options, and that wasn't an exaggeration.
I blinked back the tears in my eyes as I thought of my mom. What would she think of what I was doing? And Dad? I knew, and I still pushed it to the back of my mind.
&nbs
p; What else could I do? I was a single mother, unemployed, living in homeless shelters. Eighteen months ago, we’d all lived in San Fernando Valley in a small cottage. It was perfect.
Then, Mom’d gotten sick. Diagnosis: pancreatic cancer. It came out of nowhere, surprising all of us.
My dad disappeared bit by bit when he was told his wife of twenty-five years was going to die, that the cancer had advanced to the point where nothing could be done. Both of us had expected to have more time with her, but within three months of her diagnosis, my dad was signing papers for hospice care, a DNR, both of us wondering how we would survive without her.
After her death, I went off the deep end for a while. Not drugs and alcohol deep, but careless behavior. Dad couldn't handle living in the cottage that reminded him so much of her anymore, so we moved to a tiny apartment in San Gabriel Valley. The move, my mom's death, it all caught up to me. To be blunt, I didn't give a damn. I started going to a particular bar in Alhambra, and that's where I met a guy. Desperate for a human connection, comfort, and support, I’d allowed him to convince me to go home with him.
I had been more than a little drunk and barely remembered the sex. I did remember being ordered out of his apartment in the wee hours of the morning though, sober and disgusted with myself.
A month later, I found out I was pregnant.
I kept my secret from my dad as long as I could. Even considered abortion, but quickly discarded that idea, knowing that I would never be able to live with myself if I went through with it. When I began to show, I confessed to my dad. Instead of being angry, he’d been supportive. Disappointed yes, but he promised that together, we would make sure his grandson was well cared for.
My darkest day was six months ago, when he had been killed by a drunk driver as he was crossing the street late one night on the way home from work. It was a hit-and-run. The police never found the culprit. My dad's small life insurance policy was a blessing, but with my mom's medical bills and both their burials to pay for, and my morning sickness causing me to call in sick to work several times, I began to fall behind in the rent payments.
I had been working as a waitress at a popular restaurant chain, dinnertime mostly, but as soon as I began to show, I was put on the lunch shift. Just as I passed the seven-month mark, I lost my job. Not because I was pregnant, but because the franchise owner had defaulted on his loan. The restaurant closed down for an indeterminate time frame, and I was literally up a creek. Despite my best efforts, no one wanted to hire me, especially pushing eight months.
Devastated by the loss of both my parents in such a short time frame, pregnant, and in despair, I had done what I could. It didn't take long for me to realize that in my condition, with a baby on the way, I would never be able to keep up the rent on the apartment, even though it was one of the more affordable complexes in Alhambra.
My landlord had tried to be compassionate, but with four months’ back rent owed and by then a one-month-old baby on my hands with no immediate prospects for employment, I was evicted.
I had no good friends to speak of anymore because of the way my mom’s sickness, then both their deaths, consumed me.
So I packed only the things dearest to me and moved into a homeless shelter, eventually ending up in the south end of the Los Feliz neighborhood, close to Griffith Park. I liked to walk there, pushing Ethan in a borrowed stroller.
I picked up a few odd jobs, part time and temporary, some only lasting a week or two. Part of my paycheck went to pay a fee for the attached daycare center. While it was certainly more reasonable than a regular day care center would've charged, I couldn't, and didn't want to accept more handouts than absolutely necessary. I had to do my part to get back on my feet.
Which was why, when Kelli Spencer appeared that day, I even considered the proposition.
"It's a job," I said softly under my breath as my heart thundered in my chest. "It's just a job. It's a job."
Desperate people did desperate things. And I was desperate.
I wasn't sure if I'd lost my mind or if I could truly consider this one of the best opportunities I would ever have to make some good money. To finally provide a roof over my head, over my son's head, without having to worry about being tossed out when the next month's rent payment was due.
I’d needed to provide for my son. Living in a homeless shelter, looking for work, and finding that nearly impossible with a small baby to take care of had only emphasized my sense of hopelessness. Of helplessness.
That first day, I noticed two women dropping off a pile of clothes. Ethan had been wailing and had drawn their attention, and one had begun cooing over him. Every once in a while, people came to volunteer at the shelter, delivering home-cooked meals, donating clothes, some offering temporary employment. While I certainly appreciated such gestures from the community, it was hard not to ignore the looks of pity or judgment that often came from such volunteers.
Right away, I could tell that Kelli had not come of her own free will, that she didn't want to be there. Arms crossed, chin lifted, she gazed silently at the well-worn furniture that furnished the main room downstairs in the old Victorian that had been converted into a homeless shelter for women with children under the age of fifteen.
I thought I recognized her, but it wasn't until she introduced herself that I realized who she was. Kelli Spencer was a supermodel, one whose face graced billboards, whose image I had seen on the covers of magazines advertising everything from lingerie to expensive perfume.
I wondered what she was doing there—probably a photo op, some type of promotional gimmick dreamed up by her agent. My curiosity grew as I noticed her staring at me throughout the afternoon, and even more so when Ethan stopped his screaming and worked his charm on every person who passed through the room.
Blinking, I focused on Kelli’s door in front of me, forced my hand to knock, my mouth dry, head spinning. You're crazy, you're crazy, you're crazy, was the mantra that had repeated in my head since I’d left Ethan at the shelter’s daycare.
The door opened and there stood the beautiful model, offering me one of the smiles that didn't quite reach her eyes. A polite smile, one that would be offered to someone who worked for you, not a friend, or confident, or associate.
"I wasn't quite sure you would make it," she said. "Please, come in."
“Thanks.” I stepped into her apartment, taking in the high-end furniture, highly polished wood floors and expensive-looking fabric of the set of couches.
Shutting the door and locking it, Kelli frowned around at the living room. “Sorry about the place. I’ve had to sell several key pieces.” Kelli had told me that her breakup with Joel Farrell caused her some financial distress, but her apartment certainly didn't show it. I wondered why any relationship would affect her financially. She was a well-paid, popular model. Then again, I wondered if she was living beyond her means. Maybe she just had good credit.
"You have a nice apartment," I said, still standing awkwardly near the door.
"Have a seat anywhere you'd like." She gestured toward the living space.
I sat gingerly, trying not to finger the silky-smooth material as Kelli launched into her spiel. I still didn't understand what kind of job Kelli wanted to hire me for, but she’d asked me to meet her here to finalize the plans, and so here I was. I was so tense, the muscles in my legs and back were so stiff I knew I’d be sore later. I didn't want to leave Ethan too long. I'd stay long enough to find out exactly what I was supposed to do. I needed the money. God help me, I needed the money, so at this point, I was willing to do just about anything.
“What was it you wanted to discuss? I’m afraid I wasn’t clear about the employment you offered yesterday.”
Kelli smiled a cold, satisfied smile, her sapphire-blue eyes sparkling, and took a deep breath. “You won’t be doing anything wrong, I just want you to pretend that Ethan is my former boyfriend, Joel's, baby so that I can get back together with him. That's all.”
She nodded as the room sway
ed and dipped in front of me. Oh my god. I recoiled, disgust turning the nausea into acid in my stomach at the thought of using my innocent baby in such a scheme. I shot up off the couch. “What?”
Kelli held out a hand, a glint of desperation in her eyes. “I have a plan that will allow you to still be near Ethan and that will benefit you financially. If you’ll hear me out, I think you’ll be quite happy. I love Joel Farrell with everything I am and desperately want to reconcile with him and marry him. I need a way to convince him that he was wrong about me.”
I wavered there on my feet, and finally sat again, but mostly because my pulse was pounding so hard I was afraid I was going to pass out and plummet straight through her glass coffee table. How would lying about Ethan convince Joel he was wrong about Kelli?
Kelli told me a little bit about their history, about how she had met Joel at a fashion show. I'd never really known guys to be interested in fashion shows, but didn’t have a chance to bring it up. “At any rate, we clicked, began to date and went out quite a bit, and before I knew it, we were an item in the local gossip rags.”
I nodded politely, counting the minutes until I could escape out the door, trying to push back the disappointment of another job lead destroyed.
Kelli’s gaze took on a faraway look. “Joel cheated on me with another woman, and when I caught him, he threw me out of his mansion. It’s been a year and I haven’t been able to move on. I want back in his life. With your three-month-old son, it would give me the open door I need.”
I frowned, trying to make sense of what she was saying. She wanted… then it penetrated fully. “You want to tell Joel that Ethan’s his? But that’s crazy!" Crazy aside, I couldn't figure out why a woman like her would want to get back with a guy who had cheated on her and then kicked her out. What a jerk!
Then again, some guys were like that. I’d had my own experience to vouch for that. A drunken evening, a quick romp in bed, and being told to literally "get out" at three o’clock in the morning. Resentment turned into a sour taste in my mouth. Were all guys such bastards? What gave them the right to treat women like that? Then again, I could've said no. And I had no idea what Kelli and Joel's relationship had been like, or the circumstances of their breakup. Frankly, it was none of my business, and I certainly wasn't in any position to judge.