Minutes later, with her sugar-free, french-vanilla cappuccino in hand, all Carmen needed was a quiet place to figure some things out. Ah, a chair by the window. Perfect. She’d hang there for a while.
Tucking her feet under her, Carmen settled in and looked at the time on her phone. Her classmates were in second period by now. She’d have been in biology if she were in school. This was way better than school any day.
Carmen gripped her iPhone and touched the Safari icon. Yes! Free Wi-Fi. She dug through her bag until she found the iTunes card she’d gotten for her birthday. That was about to come in really handy. She scrolled to the icon for the app store. In the search bar, she typed voice recorder then waited for it to do its magic. Several free apps popped up, but the one for $1.99 had much better ratings. Plus, if it wasn’t a better app, they wouldn’t make you pay for it, right? The experiment had to work on the first try. Carmen couldn’t take any chances.
Attorney at Law? Carmen scrolled to double-check the address in the text message. Why did Hillary want to meet at a lawyer’s office? The woman was up to no good, as usual. But what could she have cooked up this time? Poor Judge McConnell—smart man, but wouldn’t have gone anywhere politically without Hillary’s games. She was a master manipulator who always got her way. Always. It even embarrassed Nate sometimes, though he rarely admitted it. Hmm. Wonder if Hillary had finally met her match.
Should Carmen go in or wait outside? She didn’t know for sure they were meeting in the office with the attorney. Maybe Hillary wanted to grab a bench and talk outside. Carmen would just hang out for a while. If Hillary didn’t show up in a few minutes, Carmen could text her.
Carmen’s eye roved the busy street around her. Equal parts shoppers and homeless people. A few cars parked near the sidewalk. One looked like it had been there for weeks with a shattered back window and a parking ticket under the wiper blades. This wasn’t the worst part of town, but a definite far cry from the landscape Hillary McConnell was used to observing from her car window.
Stepping over a wad of smeared gum, Carmen wandered to a bus-stop bench and perched on the edge, careful not to lean on the black smudges toward the back.
A haggard woman wearing two winter coats over purple pajama pants and bright-red clogs pushed a metal cart past the bench. Everything she owned in the whole world all fit in that one little cart. She glared at Carmen with sad eyes, which, judging by the clear-blue brightness and long lashes, had once been pretty. Did she sense Carmen’s disdain, or did the bag lady simply hate Carmen for her designer clothes and purse?
Don’t worry, lady. There won’t be more luxuries where these came from. Carmen’s designer days were over. She’d thought she might get something cool from Dad for her birthday—the iTunes card from Mom wasn’t a bad gift, but it didn’t do much to keep her wardrobe replenished. Not that she’d be able to fit into her couture clothes much longer anyway.
Carmen smiled at the old woman, who grunted and shuffled away. Click your red heels together, lady. Maybe you’ll find your way out of your mess.
She slid the lock to the right to toggle her phone display to life. Twenty minutes late. How long did Her Highness expect Carmen to sit and wait for her? Should she text Hillary?
No. Carmen hadn’t called this meeting, yet she was on time. It wasn’t her job to hunt Hillary down. Five more minutes, and she’d leave. Maybe she’d hide around the corner so she could see Hillary’s face when she arrived only to find Carmen had left.
Four minutes later, a silver Bentley slid to the curb, its driver inching in, careful not to get too close. A tuxedoed chauffeur stepped from the driver’s side and walked around to Hillary’s door.
She hired a chauffeur? She didn’t normally use one. What nerve. How could she pull into Hackensack like the Queen of England? Way to relate to the common folks, Hill. I’m sure the senate candidate’s constituents will appreciate it.
The chauffeur reached a gloved hand down to help Mrs. McConnell to the sidewalk.
Tiptoeing as though through molten lava in shoes made of gold, Hillary grimaced at her surroundings and headed for her destination.
Give me a break. Carmen pretended to read her text messages. No way she’d give Hillary the satisfaction of reacting to her display or even appearing to notice. One last swipe of her finger to turn the recorder on, and Carmen slipped her phone into her loose jacket pocket, where there’d be no risk of it being bumped or jostled off. “Oh, hello, Mrs. McConnell. I was just about to leave—figured I had the wrong time or something.”
“I’m glad you were able to meet me. Though I assume you skipped school to do it.” Hillary turned her nose up.
There was just no pleasing her. “I didn’t choose the time.” Carmen steeled herself against Hillary.
“Our appointment is right in here.” Mrs. McConnell lifted her chin and led the way into the brick building. Once inside, they climbed a wooden staircase to the second floor, where a placard on a wooden door read Horace C. Browning, Attorney at Law.
Carmen didn’t like the idea of going in there with no preparation. “Excuse me. I’d like to know why we’re here before we go in.” Was she being sued or arrested? No, lawyers didn’t arrest people. But whatever Hillary had planned for the meeting couldn’t be good. And how had she set it up so quickly?
“You’ll find out soon enough.” Hillary used a handkerchief to open the heavy door then deposited the soiled cloth in the trash. “Shall we?” She gestured for Carmen to lead the way.
What, was Hillary afraid Carmen would bolt? Not like she hadn’t considered the option.
Too late. A bald man with horn-rimmed glasses stretched his hand across his desk. “I’m Horace Browning. Pleased to meet you.”
“Carmen Castillo. What’s this all about?”
He startled at Carmen’s brusque reply and raised a bushy eyebrow. “Just take a seat for a moment. Would you like some coffee or a soda?” He riffled through some papers.
Get on with it already. “No, thank you.” Carmen drummed the nubs of her fingernails on his desk. Another minute and she was out of here.
Mr. Browning spread his legs to allow his stomach to settle between them, giving him more room to scoot his chair in. Gross.
He wiped his shiny head with a tissue then looked at Carmen. “Miss Castillo, I’m going to get right to it.”
Carmen would believe it when she saw it.
“My client has an offer for you.” Horace tipped his head toward Hillary.
Here we go.
“I have an affidavit here for you to look over and sign.” He slid a single page across the desk. Did she read disapproval on Horace’s face?
Carmen’s eyes skimmed the paper and took in several key phrases. Paternity. No claim. No rights. “Let me get this straight.” She glared at Hillary. “You want me to sign this document stating Nate isn’t the father of our baby and promise I will never seek proof that he is? You want me to release Nate from all parental rights and responsibilities to his own child? Am I understanding this document correctly?”
“Exactly. Ideally, I’d like for you to have an abortion, but this is a good-enough second best.”
How could Hillary McConnell live with herself? “I’m completely speechless. I cannot fathom what made you think I’d sign this.”
Horace cleared his throat. “Well, we want you to sign it if it’s true. And”—he coughed—”Mrs. McConnell feels terrible about your situation, so she’s prepared to help out with your needs.” He slid a folded check across the desk. He hesitated a brief moment before letting go.
Hillary was bribing her? Carmen didn’t want to touch the nasty thing. But she had to know. She unfolded it with one finger, but didn’t pick it up.
Twenty-five thousand dollars? Say it out loud for the recording. “Twenty-five thousand dollars? Am I reading this check correctly?”
“That’s right. Just a token to get you started.” Hillary beamed like she knew she had Carmen right where she wanted her.
“Are you kidding me?” Carmen glared into Hillary’s eyes. “You want to buy me out of your son’s life?” She turned her gaze to Horace. “Is she serious about this? I feel like I’m in some bad made-for-TV movie.”
“No. Don’t read into this too much, young lady. Mrs. McConnell simply wishes to help you with some expenses because you’re going to be facing your…um…predicament alone.”
What a crock. “Um. No, I’m not. This isn’t even up for discussion. There’s no way I’m signing that paper or cashing your check.”
Mr. Browning picked up the affidavit and slid the check back into his file folder. “I suspected not. Thank you for your—”
Hillary jumped to her feet. Her chair crashed to the floor behind her.
Carmen raised her arms in front of her face. Who knew what that woman was capable of?
“Now you listen here, girlie.” Hillary jabbed her finger at the breath coming from Carmen’s nose. “You will sign this paper if for no other reason than you do love my son.”
Carmen glanced at Horace. “If she lays one gnarled finger on me, you call 911 immediately.”
He nodded. “Please sit down, Mrs. McConnell. You’re not helping your cause right now.”
Hillary exhaled as though cleansing her body in one of her yoga classes. Keeping her steely eyes locked on Carmen’s, she reached a hand down to right the chair she’d upended. Lowering her body, she perched on the edge of her seat and allowed the corners of her mouth to turn up in a wavering smile.
She was crazier than Carmen had ever imagined.
“Listen, Nate has a bright future ahead of him, and you’re destroying it. A baby will ruin everything for him. College. Law school. Politics. Everything. Dating a Mexican was enough of a liability when you were rich, but now…and with a baby? You’re destroying my son, and he’s too stupid to see it.”
Horace shook his head. Looked like Hillary had gone too far even for a slimy attorney.
Carmen stared her down. How dare she put voice to such ridiculous prejudices? Carmen had always suspected Hillary had harbored hatred in her heart, but to speak it out, to say it as though her thoughts were the most natural and expected thing…an evil woman. Pure despicable evil.
Hillary’s face softened with mock concern. She grasped Carmen’s hand and looked into her eyes—one mother to another. “Just let him go.”
Chapter 15
Maybe Hillary was right, though Carmen had no intention of letting her know that—which was why she’d fled the office. And she certainly wasn’t right about everything—probably not even about most things. But maybe Nate should be free if he wanted to be. He should have some say in his future. If he didn’t, if Nate got stuck in a life-changing situation because of Carmen’s manipulations, then Carmen was no better than his mother.
She stepped over a crack in the sidewalk and shoved her hands deep into her pockets. Nate would never walk away. He was too honorable of a man. She could always dump him and tell him the baby wasn’t his. But he’d never believe her. He’d probably want a paternity test to prove he was the father. Carmen chuckled. Most guys wanted a paternity test to prove the opposite.
What had she done?
No! Carmen shook off the guilt and doubt pelting her heart. She wanted Nate. This whole thing was because she needed a family and so did he, whether he knew it or not. They’d be happy together, and their son or daughter would be adorable.
They’d have a baby shower—but not until after the little one came so people could see how cute it was. They’d name it something trendy but unique like McKennedy—oh that would sound stupid. McKennedy McConnell. Carmen laughed. How about just Kennedy for a girl? Maybe Elijah for a boy? They could go have family pictures taken for Christmas cards. Their voice mail would say something adorable like, “You’ve reached the McConnell’s. We’re here; we’re just busy playing with the baby. Leave a message, and we’ll call you right back.” We. The “we” was the part Carmen ached for.
The cell phone vibrated in her pocket. Nate. What should she say to him? Should she come right out and tell him what his mother had done? Would it turn him against his mom, or could it backfire and make him think twice about Carmen? Really, she needed to think this through. His mom had been willing to fork out twenty-five grand to get rid of Carmen. Maybe if Nate knew how serious Hillary was, he’d be willing to listen to his mother’s reasoning about Carmen, the baby, and everything else. The phone beeped as it accepted a voice-mail message. She’d check it later, after she figured out what to do.
“Hey, chica. How come you’re not in school?”
Carmen’s breath caught in her throat. Why hadn’t she taken self-defense? She spun around expecting to fend off an attacker. “Diego.” Her shoulders slumped in relief as the air whooshed from her lungs. “You scared me, man.”
“You need to open your eyes. I’ve been following you since you left that lawyer’s office. Did you really not know I was back there?”
Were there others? Carmen whipped her head around and glanced back down the street. Cars and busses whizzed by, but nothing looked strange. “You followed me? Why?” Was she wrong for trusting him? He looked sincere, but how could she know for sure?
“I wanted to make sure you were okay. You need to wise up. Diego ain’t always going to be around.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Unless you want him to be.”
“Very funny.” A good friend, even sort of cute in many ways, but definitely not someone Carmen would date even if Nate weren’t in the picture.
Diego slipped his arm over her shoulders and pulled her close. “If Marco could see us now.”
Carmen laughed. “He’d probably come so unglued the silver would fall off his teeth.”
“But reality check, chica. You was pretty clueless walking down this street. You better be more careful.”
“I’ll be fine. I was just thinking.…Lost track of where I was.”
“A deadly mistake.” Diego squeezed her again then let her go as he stepped backward. “We need to keep you safe. Diego’s reputation is at stake now. Word on the street is Marco ain’t too happy. You need to watch your back.”
Dear Nellie,
Hillary McConnell is the devil incarnate.
Love,
Carmen
Chapter 16
God knows your secrets and sees right into your heart.” Carmen looked down at her hands and picked at her fingernail. Avoid eye contact at all costs. That pastor up there could probably read her mind, which screamed, Get me out of here!
Finally. Mom rose for the closing song. Harper sat three rows ahead with her new friend from school. Carmen scanned the rows one by one. Kimberley was supposedly sitting with a group of teens she knew, but Carmen couldn’t find her anywhere. What could she be up to? Didn’t Mom notice Kim was missing? Carmen would have to pay a little closer attention to Kim while she still could. No sense letting her head down a rough road if Carmen could help her avoid it. Carmen knew firsthand the types of things a desperate girl was capable of doing.
“Amen.” The pastor smiled down at the people. “May the Lord bless you and keep you. May He make His face shine down upon you and give you peace.”
The people began to file out of the sanctuary, creating a bottleneck at the doors to the lobby as they stopped to shake the pastor’s hand.
“Hey, Carmen.” A hand reached through the line, grabbed her sleeve, and pulled back.
“Theresa. Hey. I didn’t know you went here.” Great. Blend the lines between school and church.
“Yep. My dad’s the pastor, actually.”
You mean the mind reader? “Cool.” How did Carmen not know that?
“So anyway, several of us are going out to lunch and then to hang out at the mall. Come with us?” Theresa actually looked hopeful. Why did she want Carmen around? Because of Diego, probably. Maybe Theresa assumed Diego would come.
It sounded kind of fun. But who were the “several of us” Theresa had mentioned? Carmen couldn’t ask and then back out if she
didn’t like what she heard. That would be rude. Best if she just begged off now. “I can’t. Mom has plans for us today.”
“Okay, then next week—you have plenty of warning now.” Theresa grinned and held up one long finger. “I won’t take no for an answer.”
Great. A BFF in Hackensack. Just what she’d always wanted.
Dear Nellie,
You wouldn’t believe this girl Theresa. She’s nice enough for a PK, but she’s kind of a hypocrite. She hangs out with gangbangers and then gets all spiritual at church. She’s kind of pretty, even though she’s clearly a Jersey girl with the big hair and hoop earrings to her shoulders. She means well, I think. In fact, I think she wants to be my friend. A friend…hmm…suppose anything’s possible.
Nah…
Love,
Carmen
“Aren’t you scared?” Nate rubbed his temples and glanced out the window of their favorite burger joint. “I mean, aren’t you at all worried about the future and how we’ll provide for this baby?”
Carmen twirled the straw in her glass, the ice cubes tinkling on the sides. She moved her food around on her plate, but couldn’t stomach the thought of actually taking a bite. “Scared? Not really. I mean, there are a lot of unknowns, but we can handle them. If other people do, we can.” Don’t go weak now, Nate.
“I’m not so sure about that anymore.” He stirred his ketchup with a french fry and popped it in his mouth.
His mother had gotten to him. She must have been working overtime. Dread filled the pit of Carmen’s stomach like lava at the bottom of a volcano. She searched her brain for the perfect words. “Look. We’re in this. It is what it is. We can’t back out now. At least I can’t. I suppose you could run away, but I sure can’t.” Play the guilt card. Nate was a sucker for that one.
The guilt clouded his eyes just as she’d planned. He’d never leave her to handle it all on her own.
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