I looked out the corner of my eye and could see that Lucia was rushing towards Harper. Harper had jumped out of her limousine. She was screaming my name in the near distance. “Nicky, stop! Nicky, stop!”
I was too far gone, stomping Brooks on the ground, kicking him in his balls, swearing like a madman. I continued stomping on him until Stephen pulled me off of him saying “He’s had enough Nicky. I think you made your point.”
I could see the flashing amber lights of the airport security in the distance at the end of the tarmac headed our way.
I backed off from Brooks who was mumbling in the mud-filled puddles in the rain on the ground. I gave him one last kick before backing off him. My breathing was hard and labored. I pulled my trench coat back upon me in an effort to start pulling myself together. I was getting too old for this shit.
Harper ran up to me, yelling “Nicholas Miles Becker!” at the top of her lungs.
“Yeah, so you at least know my name. Congratulations, you can graduate to the next round,” I shouted back at her. I ran my cold, numbed, blood-scraped fingers through my wet hair. I could feel the beads of rain against my skin mixed with the blood coming out of my nose.
“You . . . you . . . you,” and just like that she projectile vomited all over me like she was in The Exorcist or something.
I jumped back in shock, yelling “Ugh . . . Good God, woman!” looking down at myself with her puke all over me.
Harper looked startled and wide-eyed. She looked to be in shock. She rolled her eyes at me, sobbing and mumbling something to herself that sounded a whole lot like “green-eyed jackass.”
Lucia grabbed Harper’s hand, offered her a handkerchief out of her purse, and began pulling Harper toward her own limousine. Harper jumped into it with the aid of her driver Winston. Her assistant, Charlotte, and Scott followed closely behind her.
I pulled my puke-drenched trench coat off me, balled it up and threw it in the air across the tarmac in a fit of anger, watching as it floated to the ground in the downpour. Thunder and lightning flashed all around me.
“Good lord, Kitten!” I yelled indignantly at the top of my lungs.
Silas sped my direction, pulling the car up quickly behind me, the tires screeching loudly. One thing for sure, I felt so much better now.
Even if Harper didn’t want me or didn’t love me, at the end of the day I wasn’t going to have my baby maker, my woman, disrespected from the likes of any man, let alone Brooks Fitzgerald asswipe McKenna. Not now. Not ever. There were just some lines that weren’t going to be crossed. Today was the day that asshole got the message.
I began pulling myself together. Lucia had somehow made her way inside in our car having already dealt with the airport security’s staff with Stephen. Thank God this airport was small and I had enough money to quell any fallout that might come from the Chief of Aviation. Perhaps Lucia told them I’d pave that puddle-ridden runway, just to keep this whole scene quiet. I was sure some of my scrapes and bruises came from those damn holes in the ground. Lucia was efficient like that.
“You feel better now?” Lucia barked, handing me a fifty-year-old Macallen neat from of the wet bar. I downed the scotch quickly, moaning loudly while rubbing my hands across the side of my ribs wondering if I had any bones broken.
“I damn well sure do,” I hissed, running my fingers through my hair and ripping my bloodied soiled shirt off, thankful that Lucia had already pulled a fresh shirt out of her Tumi bag to hand me. Lucia reached in the car’s first aid kit and tended to the cut that was oozing blood right above my left eye, shaking her head at me the whole time. I opened the wet bar. Hastily, I poured myself another shot of scotch to knock the dampness and cold chill off my body now that I was absent a coat.
“Stephen’s following behind us,” Lucia said looking down at her text messenger. “He wants to know if you’re okay.”
“Tell him I’m fine,” I mumbled. “His training in the ring has served me well, tell him.”
“Do you need a doctor? You’re holding your rib cage like something might be broken,” she barked.
I watched as Lucia’s manicured fingers clicked the keys of her iPhone quickly.
“He says to tell you that he can still whip your ass,” Lucia said scrunching her nose up tapping the phone’s keyboard. “He says I should tape up your rib cage.”
“I’ll be fine I told you,” snapping at her out of my own irritation.
“I’ve just about had enough of all this alpha male crap today,” Lucia said. “We’ve got to get you a whole set of new clothes Nicky. You look a mess,” she said noticing the hole in my pants leg and the mound of dirt all over my shoes. “You guys give a whole new meaning to the word testosterone,” Lucia exclaimed.
“Tell Stephen we have to make a quick detour Lucia. We need to stop in Princeton on our way to Joduku Plastics’ headquarters. There’s a Ralph Lauren store at Palmer Square near the University. We can stop there on the way. I can buy a change of clothes,” I said, rubbing my hand across my rib cage trying to forget my agonizing pain.
Lucia tapped on her text messenger for Stephen to head to Ralph Lauren. Then she tapped on the privacy window and barked at Silas to head towards Palmer Square.
“We’ll tape your ribs up when we get there,” Lucia said calmly.
Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony ringtone began playing on my phone. Lucia and I both knew what that sound meant. The monitor screen built into the seat of the car, revealed that Harper was on the phone. Of course, we knew that already. Lucia looked at me with narrowed eyes. I gazed back with a look of disdain.
“Nicky, you need to take the call this time,” she said. “Stop putting this off.”
“God speaking,” I hissed through the speakerphone, throwing back my three fingers of scotch, closing my eyes and running my fingers through my wet hair again. I left the call on speaker so Lucia could tend to the cuts on my knuckles with antibiotic cream from the first aid kit.
“Ouch, Lucia. What’s wrong with you, woman?” I scolded her.
“Nicholas, have you completely lost your mind?” Harper said sternly through the phone, ignoring my wails at Lucia.
“Yes, I believe I lost it the day I found out you betrayed me and ran off to have someone else’s baby,” I snapped through the phone. “Not to mention, you puked on me!” I yelled.
Lucia kicked me. She was rolling her eyes at me, shaking her head reminding me that I needed to dig deep and try to remain civil throughout this conversation. I knew Lucia was right. This is not the way I wanted this conversation to go. Losing my temper with Harper would do nothing but force her to pull her Uzi’s out again and tear me a new asshole. I knew Harper inside out so I paused. I waited for the sound of her locking and loading on me.
“Nicky, you need to get a grip on yourself. Beating Brooks to a pulp and damn near getting yourself killed is not the solution to our problems,” Harper said.
“Problems? Problems?” I said, knowing it would only be a minute before Lucia would take note of the fact that I was starting to repeat myself again. That was her sure-fire sign that my stress level was up. “Since when am I the one with a problem, Harper?” I gritted through clench teeth. “We don’t have a problem. You may have a problem. Brooks Fitzgerald McKenna may have a problem, but based on my recollection, we don’t have a problem.”
“Oh yes we do too, you simple minded, overgrown, control-freak action junkie extraordinaire,” Harper shouted back.
“Last I checked, you were the one that flitted off with Reese Cook to some fertility clinic to make a baby with either him or some stranger. I doubt very seriously, that I am the one here with the problem,” I hissed, emphasizing my words, my heart breaking in two at the mere thought of Harper having someone else’s baby. “If anyone here has a problem, it certainly doesn’t look like it’s me!” I shouted.
I looked out the corner of my eye noticing that Lucia was now pouring herself a drink. If this kept up, both of us were at risk for being far too ripped
by the time we get to the Joduku presentation to do Big Daddy’s interest any good.
“Well if you weren’t so bullheaded not returning my calls, and damn near trying to kill Brooks out there on the tarmac, perhaps you would come to know that my interests are your interests and vice versa,” Harper said, sighing. “I’ve been trying to tell you for weeks, Nicky that—”
“Brooks had that coming,” I said, cutting her off. “You know it and I know it. It was bad enough he assaulted you, but then that fuckwad added fuel to the fire by insulting my manhood, Harper. He actually thinks that I can’t fucking make a baby because my woman has run off to a fertility clinic to make one without me!” I yelled through the phone.
Oops. Now I could hear the rattle of the lock and load sounds going around in that pretty little head of hers. War was near.
“You’re a pig-headed asinine fool, closer to the devil incarnate than you are to a God, Nicholas Miles Becker,” Harper hissed through the phone. “You know, I called you for something else, but never mind.”
Yep that was it. Fucking war has been declared again.
“Never mind? Never mind?” I shouted through the phone. “I don’t have a fucking mind, remember, Kitten?” I yelled.
“Like I saaaaaaaaid Nicholas, my interests are your interests,” Harper dragging out her words with all kinds of pissdom and venom. “When you decide to find your right mind again, the one you’ve seemed to have lost, you call me. And by the way Nicky . . . try looking up your ass for it!” Harper shouted at the top of her lungs.
“Well, if and when I do decide to find my right mind again,” I said in a low stern voice, “I’ll be sure to notify lost and found not to let you anywhere near it! You . . . you . . .”
“You what, Nicholas?” Harper said with all fierceness, her voice taking on a tone that I wasn’t sure I had heard before.
Lord Jesus, I was treading on some very dangerous ground. All hell was getting ready to break loose and I was at the center of it. I starting fingering under my shirt looking for my St. Michael necklace to kiss. Right about now I knew I could use a guardian angel.
“You . . . you . . . Kitten . . . you,” I said fumbling for the right words.
This was so not how I wanted our conversation to go. I swear on everything I hold dear, my Harper makes me a crazy man. I was asking for it. She was going to put my balls in a vice now and turn it until I begged for mercy. This woman was a force to be reckoned with and I had just lit the match to a huge stick of dynamite. Whatever truce we had called between us, détente was now over.
“Meanwhile, I think I’ll snatch Joduku Plastics from you today, just because you’re a pig-headed fool, Nicholas Miles Becker. No mercy for you, you . . . you . . . idiot.”
Click. She hung up.
“Now, that’s the Harper I know.” I exhaled, grabbing the presentation brief and taking one last review of the numbers. “Things are starting to feel like we’re getting back to normal, now Lucia,” I grinned.
Damn. I think that woman really loves me.
“Let’s just go buy this fucking little company for Big Daddy and get the hell out of Dodge.”
“What am I going to do with you Nicky? In all your brilliance in the financial world, you still can’t see what’s right under your nose when it comes to women.”
Our car had come to a stop in front of the Ralph Lauren store. A fresh set of clothes would help me get a fresh perspective because I sure as hell didn’t know what the fuck Lucia was talking about.
“Who am I to understand that women and her escapades after all these years,” I said, looking out the window. “So what am I missing that’s right under my nose? Tell me, Obi Wan,” I said, acting facetious. “Exactly what am I missing?”
“Has it ever occurred to you, that maybe you could be the father of Harper’s baby, Nicholas?”
And just like that my brain came to a screeching halt. I was speechless. Not only at that moment did I feel like the deer in the headlights, I was sure that I looked like the deer in the headlights. Had I just pissed in the wind on any hopes of a future together with Harper? A baby? Mine?
Lucia just shook her head. “Oh Nicky, what are we going to do with you.”
I shook my head and burst out laughing. Lucia was playing games with me. This was her way of getting back at me for fighting Brooks on the tarmac and embarrassing her. No way was Harper having my baby. This was some kind of joke. And, no way was I going to fucking fall for this crock of crap today.
Chapter Sixteen
Harper
I entered the Carnegie Center in Princeton. Joduku Plastics was located in this prestigious building. I took the elevator up to the top floor. As the elevator doors opened, I headed into the Joduku Plastics offices asking the receptionist to direct me to the boardroom in anticipation of making my presentation. I couldn’t help but think about how crazy this day had gotten with Nicholas and Brooks fighting on the airport tarmac and me vomiting all over Nicholas’s Burberry trench coat. I guess it was poetic justice that I had baptized him in that most-deserved manner. I couldn’t have planned that picture better myself. I didn’t mean to throw up on Nicky, but as luck would have it, I got totally excited amidst the state of events, and nausea followed. Far be it from Nicky to know I had been suffering from morning sickness, afternoon sickness, evening sickness and all things Nicholas sickness. My poor assistant Charlotte was beside herself during our whole ride to Princeton. She was worried about me potentially slipping on the wet pavement and falling on the tarmac while yelling at Nicky to stop. Although the thought never occurred to me in all of the excitement, I was glad to know that Charlotte had my best interests at heart.
Scott jumped into the mayhem to help his twin brother Stephen out. He was hardly winded from the whole ordeal, which spoke well of his skills, as well as his desire to keep me and his brother unharmed. Scott kept checking in with me every five minutes to see if I was okay, almost like an overprotective big brother. He was acting so nervous you would have thought I might be giving birth any minute now the way he was behaving. I suppose he didn’t want to have to answer to his brother Stephen or Nicholas if something happened to me.
Lucia had been texting me behind Nicholas’s back letting me know that he was a complete basket case at seeing me on the tarmac and speaking with me on the phone. Lucia and I had decided that at the end of the day, girl power needed to prevail and that we had to make Nicholas face certain realities faster than maybe he was ready. Nicholas had to hear the news that he was the father of my baby.
Lucia and I mutually understood the meaning of keeping your friends close and your enemies closer. We both agreed to set aside our professional differences for the time being in favor of the greater good. The greater good being Nicholas Miles Becker accepting reality about our baby and finally having to make a conscious choice about fatherhood and what role he wanted to play. Things were very different than they were ten years ago. This time I was in my third month of pregnancy. My doctors positively believed that I would have no problem with carrying this baby to term. If Nicholas was planning to take flight, he was going to have to do it right in front of my face this time and right now. There was going to be no disappearing acts for months and crawling back on his knees like a scared rabbit. If I had anything to do with it, Nicholas was going to fish or cut bait. I just needed to get through this presentation and then I could focus more on having this discussion with him.
“Ms. Montgomery, I’d like to seat you now if I may,” the female representative from the Joduku Plastics team said. She was a beautiful petite Japanese woman with creamy skin and jet-black hair that was pulled back in a ponytail. She had bangs that looked to have been cut with exact precision. “Peachtree Plastics will present first. McKenna Textiles will be presenting second. Montgomery Consulting will be third in our list of presenters, and Milk Money will be presenting last,” she said, as she moved to escort me to my seat. “O’Donnell Plastics has been eliminated from this final round.”
> The Joduku Plastics representative escorted me to my seat to what appeared to be the presenter’s table. Brooks and Nicholas had already been seated. Lucia was sitting next to Nicholas. Nicholas was looking like a puffed up peacock with a small Band-Aid over his eye and his knuckles were red and scraped. He had changed out of his blood- and puke-covered clothing and looked like Mr. GQ himself, fresh and ready for battle in a dark grey silk sharkskin suit with cuffed pants, a crisp white shirt, a skinny grey silk tie, and gold Bulgari diamond-studded watch. He was wearing two-tone, buttery-soft Napa leather Ferragamo lace-up shoes with no socks. Nobody but Nicholas would do that. Except for his furrowed brow, bumps, and bruises, Nicholas was looking his usual regal self. Lucia looked completely unfazed and pristine as always dressed in a bright red knit dress with a sarong front tied at the waist. Like Nicky, Lucia too was immaculately dressed.
Brooks Fitzgerald McKenna was tapping his thumbs nervously on the long mahogany table that each of us were seated. Brooks had apparently made a change of clothes as well. He had changed from a brown suit previously worn on the tarmac and was now wearing pinstripes. While his clothing did not reveal he had been in a tussle, his physical appearance spoke volumes.
Brooks’ left eye was black and he was sucking down pills that his assistant was handing him for apparent pain. Brooks was particularly fidgety, and he kept glaring toward the back of the room at tall well-dressed blonde-haired woman in a grey suit. The woman looked fairly ominous. Her hair was pulled back neatly in a bun so as to make her look nondescript, but I knew better. Underneath the facade was a thoroughbred beauty with brains that would likely slice and dice you up into a thousand little pieces and take everything you owned before you knew you were even bleeding.
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