DON’T TOUCH MY BABY: Ricci Family Mafia

by Zoey Parker

  We fucked for the rest of the morning, and I ended up taking a long nap afterward. When I woke again, there was a note on the table by the bed.

  Gone to work. You’re fucking sexy. I want you naked when I come home.

  I laughed at it and fell back into bed, happier than I had been in a long, long time.

  ***

  Despite Asher’s note, I didn’t spend all day just lounging around naked. I actually got dressed in a pair of black jeans and a T-shirt I stole from his closet. It was huge on me but comfortable, and it smelled like him, which I found oddly appealing just then. I padded downstairs to grab my phone.

  Reaching for it, I quickly scanned it for missed calls or texts. There was one text from Asher: Don’t forget the cookout. Six tonight. It wasn’t the only one though. There were about fifteen different texts after that one. Five were from Rochelle, three from Mia. Two more from Mrs. Hadley, my dad’s assistant, who he was likely but not definitely sleeping with. And the rest were from my dad.

  “Wow, he’s desperate enough to text me,” I mumbled to the empty kitchen.

  My dad didn’t text to save his life. It was purely a last resort and was usually reserved for trying to “get the younger vote” during election years. I rolled my eyes but skipped down to his messages first anyway.

  Where are you?

  Come home this instant!

  You are grounded, young lady!

  I snorted at that one. I was nineteen, almost twenty. He couldn’t ground me anymore. I didn’t care if I did live under his roof. What a jerk. I kept scrolling through the messages until I saw the next one, which made me pause.

  Please, honey, come home. The dinner is tonight.

  The dinner. Of course. My father had sporadic dinner parties planned throughout the summer. They were held alternatingly between fancy Mount Cherry local restaurants and his own home. The latter of the two was to try to give off that nice “family vibe” that so many of his constituents bought into. And a key part of that family vibe was, well, family. Namely me. He had two wives, and both were dead, so really only left was his only child.

  Unless you count the redheaded stepchild, I thought mildly. Of course, my stepbrother wasn’t a redhead, and he wasn’t a child, not anymore, but the notion of the concept fit. He’d never accepted my father as his, and my father had certainly never accepted him either. In that much, at least, they’d agreed.

  Either way, Mark was hardly qualified to give my father that family vibe. I could barely remember the older boy, but I knew he’d caused lots of trouble.

  Breathing through my nose, I tried very hard to not be angry with my father. But it wasn’t really working. Ultimately, I was mad. Mad that, in the end, the only reason he’d tried so desperately to get ahold of me was because there was a stupid dinner tonight. A dinner that was important to his image, his reelection. The things that were really important.

  “Which is clearly not me,” I muttered.

  I tossed my phone onto the counter, ignoring the last message from my father. I told myself I didn’t care about it and was angry enough that I almost believed myself.

  “Focus on something else,” I told myself.

  Frowning, I went back to my phone. I didn’t look at my dad’s last message but checked through Rochelle’s and Mia’s. Then I made the bold, maybe slightly reckless, choice to call them. I started with Rochelle.

  “Oh, my God!” she exclaimed, all but yelling in my ear as soon as she picked up. “Where the hell are you? Your dad is on full-blown meltdown mode! I mean, it’s like a goddamn volcano exploding!”

  I rolled my eyes at that. I doubted my dad was showing more than a twitch in his jaw over my “disappearance”. Clearing my throat, I said, “I ran into a little trouble the other day, and I needed some time to think about it.”

  There was a pause. “Is this about drugs? Because I could have hooked you up with some uppers or downers, you know that. No point going all off the grid over it.”

  I shook my head. Rochelle wasn’t exactly a dealer, so to speak, but she sold a little bit to the kids at our high school. I was pretty sure she didn’t still sell in college, but she always had some on hand for personal recreational use. It wasn’t something I liked to partake in myself.

  “No, this isn’t about drugs. It’s about…” I hesitated. Could I really tell her? Rochelle and Mia were my besties, but I had decided earlier that they would also spread any juicy gossip like wildfire.

  Do I really care? I found some small part of me wondering, a part that I wasn’t even aware I had.

  I rubbed a hand over my belly. I wasn’t really showing, I didn’t think, but my jeans were a little tighter than usual, and I was eating a lot more. And I thought my breasts were a little heavier, though maybe I was just imagining it all because that’s what I knew was going to happen.

  Inside me, I was growing a baby. A baby that I had never planned for and really never wanted. But after only two days with Asher, I was beginning to wonder if maybe I had dismissed this all too quickly.

  And if I did, by some strange twist of fate, decide to keep the baby, Rochelle and Mia would find out.

  So, was it really that big a deal?

  “I’m pregnant,” I blurted before I could reconsider.

  There was a pause so long I thought she’d hung up on me, but then there was a low, “Oh my God. Where are you? I’m coming there immediately. We’ll fix this.”

  ***

  Initially, I didn’t want to tell Rochelle where I was. Part of that was the knowledge that Rochelle could be like a tornado when she wanted to be. An unstoppable force of nature and I wasn’t sure if I could deal with that right now. The other part of it was that this was Asher’s house, not mine. Would he be okay with me having someone over?

  But, in the end, I gave her the address. She told me she was picking up Mia and they’d be there in twenty minutes. Probably less if she drove like the little speed demon she was.

  True to her word, they arrived in less than half an hour, and they looked ready for battle. Well, as ready as you could look when your parents belonged to the country club and owned a yacht. Mia was dressed in her Sunday best, a little white lace dress that was as innocent as she was not. She’d paired it with heels that were ridiculously tall but were colored white to make them less noticeable.

  Rochelle looked like some high-priced lawyer, dressed in a three-piece suit that hugged her curves tightly enough that she could be the secretary every wife was terrified to leave their husband alone with.

  And she probably would be, I thought a little unkindly. It wasn’t fair to be like that to my friends. They, like me, grew up with the sort of parents who majored in absenteeism and we all dealt with it in our own ways. Namely, getting a little reckless between the sheets.

  Though, despite being the least reckless of the three, I had been the first to get pregnant.

  “I cannot believe you got knocked up!” cried Mia, still standing on the doorstep. She clutched her small purse in front of her, looking the picture of demure.

  I shushed her, my eyes widening at her loud tone and blunt words. “Jesus, Mia! A little discretion!”

  Rochelle elbowed her, then glanced behind them. There wasn’t anyone in sight, thankfully, and when she had apparently come to the same conclusion, she shoved at Mia to get inside. Mia barely let out a weak, “Hey!”

  “You’ve got the brains of a rock,” Rochelle told her in annoyance. When they’d both stepped inside, she closed the door behind us and added, “And about half the tact, you know it?”

  Mia just lifted her shoulders. “I prefer to look at it as me cutting to the chase. No point wasting time, right?”

  Rochelle looked like she wanted to shoot back with something else, but I held up my hands to interrupt them. “Yes, I’m pregnant.”

  The other girls turned to look at me, suddenly all silence and seriousness. It was weird to see them so solemn, almost like we were about to attend a funeral rather than discussing how I’
d managed to get myself into this whole mess.

  Rochelle was the first to speak. “Do you know who the father is?”

  I gave her a look, raising a single eyebrow at her, then gestured to the house surrounding us. “Who do you think lives here?”

  Apparently, neither of the girls had really thought about where they’d just arrived because now they were glancing around curiously. Like it was a museum or something like that. I waited patiently as Rochelle scrutinized every picture on the wall, every scuff mark on the floor, and every piece of furniture in the living room to the left.

  Finally, she returned her gaze to me and wrinkled her nose. “Are you seriously staying here?”

  Something in me sagged a little bit at the disapproval in her voice, but I shoved it aside. I straightened my shoulders and smiled blandly at my friends. “For a little while,” I admitted. Quickly I added, “Just until I decide what to do.”

  My friends shared a meaningful glance between the two of them, then looked back at me. “What’s to decide?” Rochelle demanded. “We take you to that little place over in Fort whatever the hell it’s called, get that little belly muncher out of you, and call it good. Problem solved. You don’t have to be some slave to whatever white trash you had the misfortune to get knocked up by.”

  It took me several tries to process all that she’d just said—which was good because my initial response was anger. Who did she think she was to be calling Asher white trash? But then I reminded myself who they were, who I was, and how this all looked. I couldn’t hold it against them when they didn’t even know Asher.

  At least, not really.

  I cleared my throat. “And you said Mia had no tact.”

  Rochelle rolled her eyes. “Oh please. You’re standing here in some dude’s oversized shirt talking about what you’re going to do now that you’re pregnant like you’re considering keeping the damn thing. And you want tact? Honey, we’ve moved past the time for tact and into a full-blown reality check. You can’t keep it.”

  I pursed my lips. Just over two days ago, I would have agreed. Of course I couldn’t keep it. I had no business being a mother. And what about my education? Kiss college goodbye. And there was no way in hell Asher was going to stick around.

  But even as I ran through my initial list, the one that had brought me here in the first place, I acknowledged that little part of myself that wasn’t quite so sure about all of it. I hadn’t wanted to go to school for business, and that was the only thing my father would pay for. As for me being a mother, yes, I was young, but my mother was barely twenty-one when she married my father. That was only a year and a half older than I was. And she’d done a fantastic job—while she was alive.

  And what about Asher?

  I remembered our conversation at the coffee shop. I thought of the cookout that was going to be tonight and the way he looked at me like he always wanted to devour me whole. But more than that, I thought of the way his hands caressed my stomach like he couldn’t wait to see it grow.

  “I… I know it seems like a crazy idea,” I finally said in response to Rochelle. “But I just need some time to think about it. Think about what I want.”

  Rochelle blinked at me. For once, she was speechless. She opened and closed her mouth a dozen times, unable to come up with something to say in response to that.

  Apparently sensing that Rochelle couldn’t find something to say, Mia jumped in. She reached out and caressed my arm gently in what should have been a comforting gesture, but was mostly just patronizing. “It’s okay, Carol. I know getting an abortion is totally scary, but I did it last summer, and it was completely painless. I went away for a spa retreat and when I came back—boom. No baby. See? Totally discreet.”

  So much for being the first to get pregnant, I thought mildly. I frowned. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know that happened.”

  Mia waved her hand as though none of this was a big deal. “Mistakes happen. Not like you’ve got to live with them the rest of your life. We can go with you and everything. Make a girl’s weekend out of it.” She smiled brightly, nodding like a golden retriever.

  Rochelle nodded, too. “That’s right. This is just a minor setback, and we aren’t going to let you ruin the rest of your life over it.”

  I bit my lower lip. I hadn’t even told them about the Anarchy’s Horsemen or Asher. What would they think then? They’ll be more adamant than ever about me getting rid of the baby. My hand subconsciously went to my stomach. I stroked it carefully, as though the non-existent lump could be hurt by pushing too hard. Letting out a whoosh of air, I said, “Five days.”

  Both my friends stared at me blankly. “What? Five days?” Mia repeated.

  I nodded. “Yes. Five days. That’s all I want. Five days to think it over. Then…” I let the “then” trail off into nothing.

  Rochelle’s expression softened, and she gave me a gentle smile. Stepping up to me, she put her hand on my shoulder. “Then we’ll take care of this. You know all we want is what’s best for you.”

  Mia nodded in agreement and came to stand with us, so we formed a small triangle with our bodies. She threw her arms over either of our shoulders and pulled us close. “That’s what friends are for! Now, group hug!”

  She squeezed, and we laughed, but I admitted to myself it felt good. Yes, they were pushing for an abortion, and I was starting to wonder if that was really what I wanted, but they were still my friends. They supported me, no matter what.

  Chapter Twelve

  Asher

  I had an appointment this afternoon, and I’d wasted more time than I intended with Carol that morning. Not wasted time when you’ve got a woman like that, I thought with a little smirk. All the same, regret or not, I was now running a little later than I’d planned.

  I glanced down at my watch: 9:50 am. I didn’t have a lot of time until my meeting with the mayor.

  I hadn’t mentioned that I was meeting with Mayor Lautner that day to Carol. Only a few of my lieutenants knew about it, actually. The whole thing was pretty hush-hush and for good reason. I was not known for little things like diplomacy, and I was worried if I told people what was going on, they’d assume I was starting a war—and act accordingly.

  Which was not going to be productive to this meeting.

  The whole thing had been set up last minute, and it was a bloody miracle that I’d managed to get a slice of time with him in the first place. He was a busy man, and it was only through charming his secretary—with flattery and nothing more—that I’d gotten anything with him at all.

  Normally, I wouldn’t have even bothered with all of this, but Carol had sparked something inside me, and not just a desire to be inside her. She made me want to approach things differently. I wanted to handle my boys with care instead of that iron fist I was so infamous for.

  Why? Well, it was too early to really say, but something told me it had to do with the way they’d reacted to her so far. Open. Genuinely interested. Lighthearted. I’d spoken with people in the club that normally thought of me as the enemy over the last day and the change was so abrupt and noticeable that there was no denying the cause.

  It had caused me to make a bold move with the mayor. We had been at war since forever. Since my mother’s death, really, when things had gone in the shitter for me in a big way. But war wasn’t sustainable, and I was tired of it. It was time to see if we couldn’t meet on some common ground and settled the differences between us.

  It was a long shot, but I had the sudden, blazing urge to try.

  I pulled up outside the city hall where the mayor’s office was. I hadn’t ever been inside and didn’t think it was the kind of place I had any desire to spend a lot of time in, but I admitted it was a beautiful building. I parked my bike in the back, mostly for the sake of discretion, and headed up the steps inside. It was as beautiful in there as it was out, complete with polished marble floors and tall white pillars. They really went all out.

  Maybe a little excessive, I thought mildly but kept
it to myself.

  I went to a man dressed in a dark navy blue suit who was sitting at the front counter. “Can I help you?” he asked, giving me a once-over. I’d settled on jeans and a button-down shirt today, but there wasn’t much I could do about how I looked. People knew who and what I was and I didn’t put a lot of time into trying to appear as anything else.

  “Yeah, I’ve got a meeting with Mayor Lautner at one.”

  The man looked unconvinced, but asked for my name and did a quick search. He nodded, slightly surprised when he found my name on the list. “All right. Here you are. Any weapons, legal or otherwise, need to be left here.” He pointed to a plastic bin.