by Holly Rayner
“Thank you, but that won’t be necessary,” I said, standing tall. Delaying a production wasn’t good for anyone’s career, but to a relative unknown like me, it could be devastating. At this point, unless I was dead or bleeding, the show needed to go on.
“Yes it will be,” Ann Montgomery said firmly. Ann was the actress playing Penny Lane, and the niece of the actress who had played her in the original series. “You’re seeing a doctor, Johnson.” She was the star of the show, and as it turned out, her word was final. Forty-five minutes later, I was parked on a hospital bed.
“Well, the tests are back,” Dr. Iwata said brightly, tapping her teeth with her pen once or twice. She was a small, young-looking Japanese woman, with soft features and stylish glasses. “You’re pushing yourself too hard, Ms. Johnson. You simply cannot do that in your condition.”
“Condition?” I asked, glaring at her intently. That was not a word I wanted to hear right then. I dearly hoped whatever sickness she was about to tell me I had could be treated in a day or two at most. I was so close to stardom. So close to everything I had worked for. I couldn’t come this far just to be replaced.
“Yes, Ms. Johnson, your condition. You’re two months pregnant. You need to take care of yourself.”
Her words were a bolt from the blue. I started shaking. I tried to reply to her, but my mouth wouldn’t work properly. It was suddenly drier than it had ever been before.
The doctor called a nurse over to tend to me right away, telling him I was going into shock. Within ten minutes, I was alright again. Well, I wasn’t alright. Nowhere near. But I was stable.
“You didn’t know?” Dr. Iwata asked, real concern in her voice. “You haven’t been feeling tired or nauseous? No weakness or headaches?”
“I..I’ve had all those things,” I stammered, “but I thought it was stress. Are you sure about this…?” I asked, trailing off.
Dr. Iwata nodded gravely. “At this point in the process, it would be next to impossible for me to have made a mistake. I can see this has been rather startling news for you, but I want you to try and come to terms with it.”
I was barely listening. Every now and then I would nod to give her the impression that I understood what she was saying, but the whole thing just kept rolling over me, and it was all I could do just to keep myself together.
Half an hour later, she sent me home, with instructions to stay there and rest for three days. By the time I got there, I was close to tears. What in God’s name was I going to do?
SEVEN
My bedroom was still a very simple affair. I had only just started earning more money than I was using, and my teenage years had gotten me used to saving. There was a simple queen-sized bed in the middle of one wall, with a nightstand on one side and the door on the other. A chest of drawers with three sections stood opposite the bed, and there was a small television on the center section. There was a mirror in one corner, a tiny bathroom, and a small closet full of clothes, purses, and shoes.
I had been in my room for a day and a half at that point, struggling to make sense of my emotions, working hard to steady my nerves, and fighting to keep myself from reaching full panic mode.
I hadn’t told Richard or Margaret the news yet, but I would have to soon, and what would happen then? Richard would probably have to fight with Ann to do it, but he might replace me with someone else. He would pretty much have to. After all, Raven was supposed to be a single woman who was constantly hunting for her Mr. Right. Getting a new actress was easier than changing the entire story to include a pregnant woman.
As soon as word got out, the commercials would dry up. Even when the product was pizza rolls, most companies wanted a sexy redhead selling their products. With my long legs, flowing hair, and the girls, size C for the record, I fit that bill perfectly in that moment, but I wouldn’t for much longer. On top of that, when the baby came, I wouldn’t have time for anything else because I’d be damned if I’m handing my first child over to some nanny.
And then there was Kristos. He was probably more troubling than anything else. We had only met once, and now he was going to be the father of my child. How the hell this was going to work out, I didn’t know. I wasn’t even completely sure how I felt about him; I was attracted to him, that much was certain, but attraction was a far cry from love. What’s more, I had no idea how he felt about me. We hadn’t spoken in two months, so I think it was fair to say that he seemed like a member of Club Hit It and Quit It. What kind of parent was he going to be? Would I even want him in my child’s life? I was pretty sure his Wikipedia page knew more about him than I did.
I had been postponing the conversation for nearly two days, but I knew we would have to have it soon. I had little choice in the matter. Sighing, I dug my smartphone out of my purse, and made a call to Margaret’s secretary.
Anyone who had ever been to Margaret’s office came out of it with one eternal question: how in God’s name had she ended up hiring Delilah as her secretary? The woman had two brain cells. She had a stereotypical valley girl accent to match her stereotypical valley girl personality, but she affected more professional tones on the phone. She had short blond hair, a round face, and big eyes that went a long way toward making her look like a doll.
Delilah knew very little about her job, but her work always exceeded expectations—mainly because the woman had the sort of body men committed murder for. There were three men in the office that might as well have been her minions. One of these, a reedy little nerd named Brian, answered the phone when I called.
“Delilah Strong’s desk. Thank you for calling. This is her assistant speaking. May I help you?”
I shook my head and sighed when I heard him rattle off that speech.
“This is Emma Johnson,” I replied dully. “Delilah’s boss, Ms. Thune, is my agent. I need some contact information for one of my former clients, and I was hoping Delilah could help me locate it.”
“Ms. Strong is engaged in a late lunch and won’t be back for some time, but I would be happy to assist you. May I have the name of the client, please?”
I shook my head again after I took a quick glance at the clock on my smartphone. Even in my predicament, I felt a little sorry for this guy. It was nearly four o’clock, which probably meant he’d been doing his job, as well as hers, since sometime around noon. Still, I preferred having Brian on the other end of the line; Delilah would have asked questions, he would not.
A few moments later, I had Kristos’ office number. After hanging up with Brian, I had to fight the urge to stall for another day or two. I told myself it wouldn’t help matters any, and made the call.
The conversation did not go well. I had to tell her why I needed a meeting without actually telling her why I needed a meeting. The world already knew I had been ill on the set; they didn’t need to know about the baby until it couldn’t be helped. I told her we needed to discuss a sensitive, private, matter of some importance. She went away for what felt like a very long time, until she finally reported that I had an appointment for noon the next day.
I thanked her and hung up, tossing my phone on the bed before stepping into the shower, hoping the hot water would somehow be soothing. I covered my body in lather, washed my face, and shampooed my hair. Twenty minutes later, I was much wetter, but no less anxious, and it took me what felt like hours before I eventually fell into an uneasy sleep.
EIGHT
I woke up the next morning feeling slightly better. Not because I’d calmed down any about the baby situation, only because my room was cold, and the bed felt safe, warm and comforting. It felt like if I could just stay there, everything would get better by itself. Unfortunately, that tactic hadn’t even worked when I was five.
I forced myself out of bed and checked the time on my phone. It was already half past ten, and I’d missed two calls from Margaret, who probably wanted to check on me. I made a mental note to call her back as I selected a plain skirt and blouse and started getting dressed. Kristos’ office was
further away than the talent agency and I wasn’t going to take the traffic for granted this time. My plan was to get this over with as quickly as possible, to yank off the Band-Aid, as it were.
Just before noon, I arrived at the offices of Patras Productions, a tall white building in the middle of downtown Los Angeles. My research had told me that Kristos launched the company on his twenty-third birthday, four years ago, and that, since then, it had so far produced twelve hit shows, of which Date Roulette was the shining star.
Inside, I walked through an elegant lobby and took the elevator to his office on the seventeenth floor. After knocking on his door, I went inside and found him sitting on the edge of his desk, looking casually delicious in black slacks and a suede jacket.
“Ah, my prodigal date returns,” he opened, smiling. “I woke up and you were nowhere to be found.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry about that. I had an early casting call and you were sleeping so peacefully I didn’t want to wake you. But now there’s something very important we need to talk about.”
“And what’s that?” he replied coolly.
It was clear he had no idea what I was about to say, and my guess was he thought I was here to try and start things up again. I dug in my heels and prepared to set him straight.
“I’m pregnant. Two months pregnant. I just found out a few days ago. We need to talk about what happens next.”
As I said that last sentence, every bit of color drained from his face. It contorted so tightly I thought steam was going to shoot out of his ears like something out of a Looney Tunes episode. For a long time, he didn’t make a sound, and when he finally did, I wished to God that he hadn’t.
“You’re good,” he said, laughing bitterly and shaking his head. “You’re damn good. It was a great plan,” he said, his voice rising dangerously. “And I fell for it; hook, line and sinker! You get my attention and lay it on thick. While I’m distracted by your little sob story about how hard your life’s been, you’re busy bringing on the alcohol. And what do you do in the morning? You vanish. The trap is set. Two months later, here you are, the redhead with the golden ticket!”
“Shut the hell up!” I growled. “Call me anything else and you’re gonna need security. The goddam bar was your idea, remember? And where do you get off saying I had a plan? You kissed me! You don’t get to accuse me of trying to manipulate you just because you’re too scared to take responsibility for your own actions.”
“Take responsibility? Will you listen to yourself? How do you not realize you’re pregnant for two months? That is, if you’re not just making up this bullshit?”
I felt lightning burn through my body. My legs launched me forward with a will of their own. “You bastard!” I screamed.
Out of nowhere, security appeared, and I was restrained and roughly removed from the premises. As if they needed to, the guards loudly told me I was persona non grata. I had never been angrier than I was in that moment. Where the hell did he get off, thinking he could talk to me like that?
I wanted to shout it out for the world to hear; that I was pregnant, and the man on the seventeenth floor was too much of a jerk to take responsibility for his child. I didn’t do that, though. Instead, I went home, swearing under my breath the entire way. I knew then that I would be raising my child alone, and that Kristos would never enter my life again.
NINE
Kristos
I raged through my office, knocking down papers and supplies as I went, not stopping until the desktop monitor crashed to the floor. How could I have been so stupid as to let a woman betray me like this?
The worst part was that I had been thinking about her ever since the morning I’d woken up by myself. Everything she did pissed me off to no end, but that was what I liked about her. She knew I ran the show, but she didn’t run off with me when I gave her the chance. She wanted to talk about our lives and not my money. She didn’t seem to be impressed by any of it. I genuinely thought she gave a damn about me. I thought we were going to start over and have a real relationship. And what happens? The goddam ‘I’m Having Your Baby’ Scam.
Fuming, I fell into my chair and sat there, wondering how much my desire to be loved would end up costing me, and if there was any possibility that the child was actually mine. I doubted it highly, but at this point, if there was even the slightest chance, I wanted to take it. It was clear to me now that I was never going to have a woman’s love. I had wasted nearly three hundred million dollars learning that. I could continue to fight that knowledge, and spend my life buying lawyers and silence, or accept it and move on.
Even as I resolved to do the latter, even as I calculated the amount she would likely blackmail me for, I still couldn’t get that damn woman out of my mind. In spite of the vicious words we’d exchanged, I still wanted to see her again. I still pictured her dazzling the nation in her green dress, sharing stories with me, and making me feel like she really cared. Not to mention that she was amazing in bed—no amount of liquor would have made me forget that.
I struggled to stop thinking about Emma. She had used me. Like Anya, and a dozen others before her. So I tried to focus on the child, who would be innocent, and could learn to love people rather than things. I began to think of the opportunity I could give it to find the love that had eluded me, and I knew what I was prepared to offer Emma to keep her silence and protect everything I’d worked for. She would have to come back here—it wasn’t the kind of offer I could make over the phone or online. Going to either of our homes would only make things worse, and we wouldn’t have enough privacy in a public setting. I decided to call her in an hour or so, and leave a message. I decided upon one other thing: this was never going to happen again.
TEN
Emma
I have been called many things before. In school, they called me a nerd. My mother called me selfish, my father called me spoiled. Mrs. Coleman had called me a deadbeat under her breath, once or twice. But until today, no one had ever called me a liar.
It had been three hours since I’d seen Kristos, and I still wanted to tear him limb from limb. It would have been better if I had never gone to see him. Before, I had a new life and my career to worry about. Now I had that, plus a cloud of hot anger, and the depression that was beginning to gnaw at my bones. I was suddenly exhausted, and I fell on my bed in a heap. Every inch of me suddenly felt as if it weighed three hundred pounds.
Ann had called to check on me. She wanted to know if I was feeling better, and when I might be returning to work. I told her I’d be in time for filming tomorrow. Beyond that, I had no idea what was going to happen. I felt a shooting pain in my back and swore loudly. And that’s when my phone began to ring.
“Margaret this time,” I mumbled to myself, and forced my body into a sitting position. It wasn’t fair to keep ignoring the woman who’d struggled almost as much as I had to make me famous.
When I grabbed my smartphone off the nightstand, however, I saw right away that it wasn’t my agent; it was Kristos’ office. The same one I’d just been kicked out of a few hours ago. I was surprised the rat bastard had the balls to call me after what had happened, and mildly curious to hear what he wanted. I let the call go to voicemail, and then listened to the message.
“Mr. Metroupolos has expressed regret over the earlier unpleasantness,” a woman’s voice said. “He would like you to return to his office as soon as possible. He has devised a business proposition that he believes will be of interest to you. Have a nice day.”
My stomach roiled with disgust. What “business proposition” was I likely to get from a man who accused me of selling my body to get ahead in life? Besides which, I’d been manhandled and thrown out of the building. In what realm of reality did he think I was going to go back?
I was just about to delete the message when I thought of the child growing in my womb. Very soon, I was going to start showing, and many of the opportunities I had now were bound to disappear. I lived among superficial people, who weren’t likely to be
understanding or accommodating. I had some money saved, but between caring for a baby and paying my rent, it would disappear fast. I might be able to swing a few baby commercials, but “might” was not acceptable where a baby was concerned. If I was going to raise him on my own, I really had little choice but to see what Kristos was offering. I dragged myself up off my bed, and headed back out, grumbling all the way.
“I lost my head before,” Kristos said when I returned. “I suppose I should be used to it by now, but blackmail still bothers me. If you’ll accept my terms, I can offer you thirty million dollars.”
The charge made me furious, and I started to call him on it. “I have no intention of…wait. How much?” I asked, astounded.
“Thirty million, if you’ll meet my terms. I need you to keep silent about the pregnancy. Neither the press, nor your agents, nor anyone else can know about it. Of course, you’ll eventually need to quit any productions you’re currently working on. I will compensate you for each of those separately. Your agents will be told you’ve decided to go abroad and work on one of my shows for the emerging Asian market. Until the baby is born, we are to have zero contact, and when it is born, you are to hand the child over to me.”