by Ivy Jordan
“Who was that?” Stella asked.
“No one,” I insisted, and then leaned in for a kiss.
Isabella grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the pool. Stella laughed as she watched the small girl tug me around like a rag doll.
I tried to have a good time, but all I could think about was Caroline’s threat. Who told her about my agreements, and why? I knew I’d have my attorney question her Monday, refusing to turn over the money without a name. Maybe I’d offer her more to come clean, whatever it took. I needed to kill this at the source.
The thought of Isabella finding out made me sick. I couldn’t bear the thought of her feeling Stella’s relationship with her was bought and paid for, and not genuine. I knew it was genuine; anyone with eyes could see that.
Chapter Seven
Stella
I pulled up to the house after taking Isabella to school and a blonde woman was sitting on the front steps.
She stared right at me, smiled with missing teeth, and even waved. Her clothes were raggedy, and her hair mangy. I was afraid to get out of the car.
I reached into my purse for my phone, ready to call Gavin when she got up. She walked toward the car, flipping a cigarette into the bushes near the drive. “Are you Stella?” she asked, loud enough to hear through my closed window.
I opened the door, got out, and stood close enough to this woman who knew my name to smell the lack of bathing oozing from her skin.
“Can I help you?” I asked.
“Yeah. I was supposed to be downtown by noon, but I don’t have a ride,” she explained as if it would mean something to me.
“I don’t see what that has to do with me?” I asked.
“Oh. You sound so proper and shit,” she laughed. “I know you. You came from nothing, just like me. Your daddy’s gambling debts lost your childhood home, now he lives in a rundown shack, and you… well you, you’re a high-priced hooker,” she snorted.
My heart raced. Who was this woman? Why did she know me, or anything about me? A hooker?
“Excuse me,” I moved past her, still reaching for my phone.
“Who you gonna call? Gavin? Good, tell him to bring me my other fifty thousand,” she griped.
I turned. “Who are you?” I asked.
“Isabella’s mother. Caroline. Nice to meet you,” she smirked, extending her dirty hand to me.
I could see the track marks in her arms and almost smell the hepatitis C on her.
“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.
She laughed, pulled her hand back and wiped her nose.
“I know you do. Your little arrangement here; Gavin’s paying me to keep my mouth shut,” she explained.
Her words slurred at times, and others they were clear. I knew she had to be high, but she had too much information to be delirious. “He’s paying you?” I asked.
“Yeah. I’m supposed to meet him to get the other fifty grand. Just give me a ride there, and I’ll be outta both your hairs. You can go on playin’ pretend, and Isabella won’t have to know daddy hires hookers to play mommy to her,” she hissed.
Her breath was rancid, like an old foot, dog’s dirty ass, and copper. I turned away, taking in a deep breath of fresh air while absorbing what she was saying. If she knew, others probably did, as well. I looked like a fool.
“Why would you hurt your own daughter like that?” I asked, trying to appeal to her maternal side.
“Daughter? Ha! I don’t have a daughter. That man took her from me, leaving me with nothin’. Far as I’m concerned, he’s already ruined her, she ain’t no daughter of mine,” she snorted.
“No matter what, she’s still your baby. You surely don’t want to destroy her trust in people. I love Isabella, no one is paying me to do that,” I scowled.
“You’ll be gone soon enough, just like the rest of ‘em,” she snarled.
“The rest of them?” I asked, not sure why I even entertained a conversation with this heathen.
“Yeah. Oh, you thought you were the first? That’s rich. No, sweetie, there’s been over a dozen high-priced hookers in that mans’ bed. That little girl is used to having people disappear from her life, starting with her own mother,” she hissed.
I dialed Gavin’s number. It rang while I fought back tears. “Hello?” he answered.
“Where are you?” I asked.
“I’m at the office,” he said calmly.
“There’s someone here claiming to be Isabella’s mother,” I explained.
Caroline waved her hands in the air above her head, wiggled her hips, and mocked me while pretending to talk on an imaginary phone.
“I’ll be right there,” he said quickly, hanging up the phone.
“He’s on his way,” I informed her.
“Are you fucking him yet?” she asked, her eyes wild and red.
I ignored her, thumbing through my phone to keep my eye contact from her.
“Yeah. We started fucking. I thought he loved me; hell, I loved him. When I got knocked up, he was so damn happy, but then right after she was born, he tossed me out, had lawyers draw up papers to get rid of me for good,” she said.
Her speech was growing slower, and harder to understand. “I didn’t have anything. He paid me to go away. I had to survive,” she whined.
I watched her sit on the steps, push her head into her hands, and then wobble back and forth as she struggled to stay awake.
Gavin pulled up with another car following him, whom he introduced as his attorney, Greg Clark, when they got out. Caroline started yelling about money, suddenly no longer tired, and the attorney pulled out papers for her to sign.
“I need a name,” Gavin ordered her. “Who told you about the arrangements?” he insisted.
“I was an arrangement,” she snapped.
He laughed. “No. You were never an arrangement; you were a damn mess from day one,” he yelled.
I’d never seen him angry before. He seemed different from the man I’d fallen for. My stomach ached at the admittance of my feelings for this man. I didn’t even know him, not really. I thought I did, but now, this, her, and the others, it was all too much to absorb.
“I don’t have to give you nothing,” Caroline growled, spitting on the ground toward Gavin’s feet.
“If you want this money, you do,” he instructed.
“I just need help,” she started to cry.
“And I’ll help you, but you have to help me,” he pleaded with the cracked-out woman he’d brought a child into this world with.
“I hadn’t thought about you or Isabella in a long time, a long, lung, tume,” her speech started to slur again.
“Okay. Well, why now?” he asked, offering her more compassion than before.
As I watched him wrap his arm around the woman, I knew he had the heart I’d fallen in love with. He was kind, he was compassionate, but I still didn’t know if I could trust him.
“She came to my apartment, told me how much money you have, and that you just throw it away on whores,” she said clear as a bell.
“Who came to your apartment?” he asked.
“Stephanie somebody; she told me what you were doing. She told me that I deserved something. After all, I gave you the daughter you are tryin’ so hard to protect,” she dropped to her knees on the driveway, her head in her hands, and sobbed.
Gavin was furious, that was evident. I watched as he walked away, shoving his own head in his hands, and then take a punch at his shiny black Porsche. “Fuck!” he called out before turning back around.
He shoved his hands into his pockets and bit down on his bottom lip. “She’s wrong. She made it up to hurt me; she’s jealous, you understand?” he spoke loudly to the sobbing woman. “You sign these papers, get your cash, and never return, you hear me?” he yelled.
“Fine!” Caroline yelled back, standing to her feet.
The tears were gone, her emotions intact. She was good. I couldn’t help but wonder if she was the original
actress in Gavin’s world, and I was… what, the twelfth? The thirtieth?
The lawyer managed to get the woman to sign the papers. He explained to her, in a much calmer voice, that she would be charged with slander if she even spoke Gavin’s name. He was rich, and powerful. Maybe he did destroy this woman and steal her child.
The lawyer packed Caroline into his car and agreed to take her home, wherever that was. Gavin turned to me once they were gone, his eyes wide and his mouth parted. I knew he didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know if I knew what to say in that moment. There was so much.
“How many others have there been?” I asked.
He hesitated. I watched as his eyes shifted from mine to the ground. His hands pushed deep into his pockets, and he swayed back and forth as if pacing would help him find an answer. “The truth. It’s simple if you just tell me the truth,” I demanded.
“There were others,” he admitted.
“How many?” I asked, tears welling up in my eyes.
“Five,” he said softly.
“And Caroline?” I asked.
“No. Of course not,” he insisted.
I turned, pushing my way into the front door of Gavin’s house, his whore house. “Stella, it’s not what you think,” he yelled out.
I ran up the stairs to his bedroom, and grabbed the old suitcase I’d came with, slamming it on the bed. “I’m leaving,” I said.
I shoved my clothes into the bag and then grabbed my large duffle of personal items and keepsakes that had never been unpacked. “Don’t leave,” Gavin pleaded, gripping my arm and spinning me toward him.
His eyes were wide and filled with pain. My heart ached for him. I wanted nothing more than to fall into his arms, let him tell me it’s all okay, but I knew I couldn’t. He’d lied. He was probably lying now. “What difference does it make if I leave? You’ll have a new one hired by the end of the week,” I snapped, pulling my arm from his grip.
I gripped my bag and stormed from the room. Gavin pleaded with me until I slammed my driver’s door shut. He stepped back as I pulled from the drive, and my tears flooded my eyes as I made the left to Tiffany’s house. I had nowhere else to go. I was in the car he gave me, using whore money that I didn’t want, and all I could think was, why had I been so foolish?
Chapter Eight
Gavin
It was bittersweet, firing Stephanie. She’d been an excellent employee, and an amazing assistant. I knew she’d be impossible to replace. I couldn’t believe she’d betrayed me the way she had, and just like Caroline, she was given papers to sign that prohibited her from mentioning my name, or my company’s name. I added Stella’s name and Caroline’s into the order, just for assurance.
The look on Isabella’s face when I told her Stella had left broke my heart. She’d written her a sweet note, explaining she had to help her father, and wasn’t sure if she’d ever return. I appreciated her protecting Isabella from the truth, but the problem was, she didn’t know the entire truth herself.
“I’m going to the studio,” Isabella announced, or Izzy, as she now liked to be called.
“Paint me a masterpiece,” I smiled.
“Daddy?” she asked, stopping at my desk with a sullen look.
“Yes, dear?” I looked up into the bluest eyes I’d ever seen.
“Is Stella coming back?” she asked softly.
“I don’t know,” I admitted, swallowing hard to evacuate the lump growing in my throat.
“I miss her,” she said sadly as her chin dropped to her chest.
“I do, too,” I replied.
“Can’t you go after her?” she asked.
Her eyes were wide with hope. It broke me in half to kill that hope. “I can’t,” I said.
“Why not?” she pushed.
“She has things she needs to take care of,” I answered, hoping that would be the end of this discussion.
No such luck; Izzy was a fighter. I’d never seen her grow so attached to anyone before. The other women, or hired whores as Stella called them, they never bonded with Isabella. I hated to see her lose someone she loved, someone who loved her.
“You could bring her father here, and then she could help him, and wouldn’t have to leave,” she insisted.
“I don’t think it’s that simple,” I said calmly.
“You never try!” she yelled.
She’d never raised her voice to me before. My heart raced, my bottom lip trembled, and my body started to shake as her bright-blue eyes welled up with tears. “If you loved her, you’d make her come back,” she sobbed.
I pulled her in close to my chest for a tight embrace. Her little body was limp in my arms, shaking from her loud sobs. “I do love her,” I whispered.
My hand smoothed over her silky blonde hair as she started to calm down. Her eyes were so bright from the tears they weakened my knees just to look into them. “I miss her too,” I said softly.
“Then fix this,” she pouted.
“I will do my best,” I offered up a forced smile, and then winked in her direction.
She giggled. “I’m sorry,” she said.
“Oh. Don’t you worry about me, I’m tough. You have a right to be upset,” I assured her, and then patted her on the back.
She picked up her paint supplies and smiled as she turned to walk away. The lump in my throat had grown so wide, I could barely swallow. My eyes burnt, my chest ached, and my mind was reeling as it struggled to come up with a fix.
The doorbell rang, pulling me from my sulking. I rushed to open it, hopeful for a split second that it could be Stella. Instead, I was met with Greg Clark standing in the doorway, his potbelly pushing out several inches from his belt line, and the little hair he had left blowing wildly in the wind. “Greg, to what do I owe this pleasure?” I said, hoping the look of disappointment wasn’t too apparent on my face.
“I’m just making a friendly check-in house call,” he said, making his way through the doorway and into my house.
I wasn’t in the mood for company, but I couldn’t be rude. This man had looked out for my best interests for years, protecting not only me, but my daughter as well. “Come in. Can I get you a drink?” I asked.
“No. I won’t take up too much of your time,” he promised.
Knowing Greg, I knew that wasn’t true. He was long-winded, and it seemed to take him forever to get to the point. This was not the day I wanted to be stuck listening to him. Not today.
“I’ve been worried about you, Gavin,” he said, getting right to the point, and shocking me.
“Worried about me?” I laughed.
“Yes. It’s been three weeks since Stella left, since you fired Stephanie, and you haven’t reached out to me about replacing either,” he said sternly.
“I don’t think I plan to,” I said.
“You need an assistant, and Isabella still needs a mother, unless something’s changed. Did you find someone suitable outside of the contract?” he asked.
I couldn’t tell if his tone was serious or sarcastic. “No. I’ve not found anyone,” I said.
“Then we need to get to work,” he said, his eyes widening with excitement.
“I don’t think that’s such a great idea,” I admitted. He tilted his head as he stared at me. “Things just… didn’t go as planned,” I added. “I have Martin prepared to take over Stephanie’s position. He isn’t as nice to look at, but he’s just as smart.”
“Great. That’s great,” Greg said.
“As far as Isabelle, I can’t do this to her again,” I sighed.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
I knew he didn’t get it; hell, I didn’t get it myself. I’d had several other women in and out of Isabella’s life, but they weren’t Stella. She was different, not just for Isabella, but for me as well. Greg had worked the contract to ensure that I’d get a richer, more fulfilling experience than the other times. Maybe he’d worked it too well.
“I don’t want her to get that close to someone again, just
to be abandoned and hurt,” I said, my voice starting to shake.
“Well. If it’s Stella she wants, she’s still under obligation by the contract. I spoke to her attorney, Tiffany, and she is staying with her for the time being. I can send an order for her to return with the threat of a lawsuit for breach of contract,” he suggested.
I sighed and pushed my head in my hands. “I don’t want her to be here if she doesn’t want to be,” I said.
“It’s a job; why does it matter what she wants?” he asked.
I lifted my head from my hands and let my eyes linger on his.
“Oh. You developed feelings for this woman,” he said quietly.
“I did,” I admitted for the first time aloud.
“You created this contract to give Isabella what she deserved, right?” he asked.
I nodded.
“And without the feelings, the connection, it didn’t work. So, you found someone who you and she both connected with, both developed true feelings for. Maybe the contract is unnecessary,” he said.
I stared into my attorney’s beady, dark eyes. He was well over fifty, married thirty years to the same woman, and appeared happy. “The contract kept things from getting messy,” I said.
He laughed. “Yes, and how did that work out for you?” he chuckled. “Look. Life is messy. If there is no love, sure, there’s no mess. But without love, there’s no life.”
They were wise words from a wise man. He was right.
“Thanks for coming, Greg,” I said, patting him on his wide back.
“You’re running me off, eh?” he teased, standing with a loud grunt.
“Yes. I made a promise to my little girl tonight, and you just helped me figure out how to keep that promise,” I smiled.
“Well. I don’t know what I did, but I’m glad to hear Isabella won’t be let down,” he returned the pat to my back, and then waddled toward the door.
“How’s Marge?” I asked, knowing he and his wife had a big anniversary coming up soon.
“She’s a nag. Won’t let me have salt, lunchmeat, and even took my bacon away. Says she wants me to live longer or something. I figured she’d be sick of me by now,” he joked.