by Grey, Blair
I was already thinking about what I would say to Rachel. I wasn’t going to be able to lie to her and tell her that we hadn’t had sex. And god, wasn’t that embarrassing. I knew she wasn’t going to judge me for it, but I was judging myself for it. She’d want to know why I wasn’t interested in a second date with him, though.
In fact, I could practically hear her now: “If you enjoy his company and the sex was great, and he wants to see you again, why do you insist on running away?”
Because that’s what I was doing when it really came down to it; I was running away. But knowing I was doing it and actually being able to stop it were two different things.
15
Marcus
Monday
I woke up on Monday morning hard as a rock and grinding against the sheets. It had been a while since I’d found myself in that sort of position, and I felt vaguely embarrassed. I hopped in a cold shower, trying to forget about the dream I’d had.
I hadn’t heard from Leila since she’d left my place on Saturday night.
I still felt guilty about that. I had known better than to pressure her. I should have walked her back to her house, maybe given her a good-night kiss, and called it a night. I didn’t know exactly what had gone wrong, not when she’d seemed so into it and not when she had really been the one to start it. But she definitely hadn’t seemed happy as she left, and I felt bad about that. I felt like I had ruined what had been an otherwise great night.
Not that the sex hadn’t been great, too. Fuck, she’d been incredible. So open to me, so responsive, her body like putty in my hands. I hadn’t been able to get enough of her. And now, I couldn’t seem to quit thinking about her. But she refused to answer the phone when I had called, nor had she responded to the text I’d sent her, thanking her for a fun night and checking to make sure she had gotten home okay.
I shook my head and headed over to the clubhouse for our weekly Red Eyes meeting. I was running a little late, intentionally since it meant that the twins couldn’t start asking me about where I had been all weekend and why I’d blown them off for another Saturday-night party. I was even later than I’d meant to be, though, and Ray was already there when I arrived and slinked in through the door to find a seat on the couch.
He scowled at me. “I’d appreciate if you guys were on time to these meetings,” he said frostily. “There’s a lot going on right now, and I don’t want to have to repeat myself.”
“Sorry,” I muttered, trying to look contrite even though inside I was rolling my eyes. It wasn’t like I made it a habit to be late or anything; he didn’t have to call me out on the one time I was. But the last thing I needed was to pick a fight with him over it.
“We’re getting heat from the sheriff at the moment,” Ray said, looking around at all of us. “Now, we knew this was coming. We knew he wasn’t on our side. But apparently, he plans on really starting to crack down on all of this.”
“Good timing, since it’s almost time to collect our monthly dues,” Cameron muttered under his breath, glancing over at me. I was thinking the same thing.
Ray held up his hand for silence, waited a moment, and then continued. “We’re going to have to back off for a little while,” he said. Another pause. “I want all of you to take a vacation while I figure a few things out.”
There was silence in the room. I was the first person to break it. “Fuck that,” I said, unable to help myself. “Come on, Ray, if there’s a problem, we all need to work together. Not just drop it all on you.”
“We’ll work together once we have a plan,” he said fiercely. “Until then, the last thing I need is you lot running around underfoot causing trouble. We’re not all going to be able to work together on a solution if half of you are in jail before we even get the lay of the land. And if you dare question my authority again, you’ll be the first person I offer up to the sheriff.”
There was silence in the room again, and Ray glared around at everyone. “Does anyone else have any stupid challenges they’d like to make?”
I wanted to fight him on it, but with the look in his eyes, I almost believed him when he said he would offer me up to the sheriff. Shit. I stayed quiet, even though I was already trying to figure out what I could do to help things.
Suddenly, the door to the clubhouse flew open, and Sheriff Michaels came in, flanked by a couple of police officers.
Ray raised an eyebrow at him. “Breaking and entering now, boys?” he asked coolly.
“Don’t be stupid,” the sheriff said, rolling his eyes and holding up a piece of paper. “We have a warrant to search the place.”
“Oh yeah? And what exactly are you looking for?”
“We got a tip that there were drugs here in your clubhouse,” one of the police officers said, already glancing around at the place.
“That’s ridiculous,” Ray declared, narrowing his eyes at the officers. “You know we don’t run drugs. That’s not our style.”
The police officer didn’t care, though. “I need all of you up against the wall here, hands out.”
“What is this, the firing squad?” Braxton snapped.
The police officer held up a pair of handcuffs. “Come on, all of you. Now.”
“I might add,” Sheriff Michaels said, smirking at Ray, “that the better you cooperate with this search, the more tolerant I may be of your continued presence here in Las Cruces.”
That got everyone moving. We let them handcuff us and watched as they searched the place and then patted down each one of us, one by one. I spent the whole time trying to think if they would find anything here. Of course we didn’t run drugs, but that didn’t mean we were all clean. I was worried about Braxton in particular. He might have something on him. Probably just petty weed, but if they were really trying to crack down, they’d get him up on the maximum charge.
“Hey, gentle with the merchandise!” Braxton said as one of the cops shoved a hand in his pocket. But he came out with just a couple of crumpled receipts. “Can’t I have her feeling me up?” he asked, nodding toward the unimpressed female police officer who stood off to the side with her arms folded across her chest.
The other police officer didn’t take kindly to that and slammed Braxton’s head back against the door. Braxton looked dazed at the hit, but he managed to keep his feet, and he shut up after that. I think we were all grateful for that.
“What happened to the wall in here?” the sheriff called from Ray’s office.
“There used to be a safe in there. Now there isn’t,” Ray replied icily.
Sheriff Michaels came back into the main room, looking like he had just hit the jackpot. “Oh really?” he said. “And what happened to that safe, hmm? Got moved to your house? Do I need to get a warrant to search there as well?”
“You’re not going to find any drugs there,” Ray said, shrugging. “But if you want to waste your time, sure, go ahead. The safe isn’t there either, though.”
“Where is it, then?”
“I think you already know that,” Ray said, narrowing his eyes at the other. He clearly suspected the same thing I had: that if Bill Michaels wasn’t a member of the Unknowns, he was certainly in cahoots with them. But he didn’t say anything further, and the sheriff let the matter drop.
“Well, I guess you guys are lucky today,” the sheriff said, nodding toward his lackeys, who started to undo our handcuffs one after the other. “We didn’t find anything today. But I’m sure we’ll get you on something.”
Ray rolled his eyes, but otherwise, he kept his opinion to himself. The sheriff looked pissed anyway. He leaned in close to Ray, jabbing a finger at our president’s chest. “You watch your back, Ray Thompson. You may act like you don’t give a shit about any of this, but I know you’d take a bullet for any of the guys you’ve got here in this room. Or for your daughter, for that matter. There are things that you care about, and I’m here to figure out how best to use those weaknesses to bring you to the ground.”
He turned and stalked out
, his police officers following behind him. They slammed the door as they left.
Ray stared off into space for a long moment, his jaw twitching with barely concealed rage.
“Some sheriff, huh?” Braxton muttered, rubbing his head. “Promises to clean up the illegal shit in this town by threatening to, what, shoot bullets into us and kidnap Belle?”
I shot him a warning look. Ray didn’t want to hear that kind of mouthing off, not right now. Fortunately, Ray didn’t seem to be listening. Finally, he glanced over at me. “My office, now,” he said. “The rest of you, get out of here. And keep it clean. We’ve just seen firsthand how this new sheriff is going to treat us.”
Everyone scattered, and I followed Ray into his office, wondering if he was going to ream me out again for having been late to the meeting. I was all set to explain, but he just poured two drinks, then shoved one into my hand.
“It had to be the Unknowns,” he snapped.
“What did?” I asked in surprise.
“They’re the ones who gave him that tip. I’m just surprised they didn’t plant some drugs in here while they were at it.”
I snorted. “They’d never be able to get in here again,” I reminded him. “We’ve amped up security so much since the place was broken into before that half of Red Eyes can’t even get in here unless you’re here. The core group can, of course, but none of the other members.”
“True,” Ray said, but he sounded distracted. There was a frown on his face and a murderous look in his eyes as he knocked back the rest of his drink. I had to wonder if maybe he had finally been galvanized into doing something. The Unknowns might have just unknowingly signed their own death warrant when they helped the sheriff get the grounds needed to search our clubhouse.
16
Leila
Monday
I felt surprisingly nervous about my consultation on Monday. It was silly, really. Like I had told Rachel, it wasn’t like I was going to actually get inseminated today. And even if I did, I knew the odds of me getting pregnant right away were basically zilch. But all the same, this was nerve-racking. It was the first step of a series of steps that could totally change my life.
I didn’t like seeing all the men sitting around the waiting room at the clinic. I knew exactly what they were there for: hoping to make a little extra money by donating their swimmers. And sure, there were a couple of them in particular who were easy on the eyes. But I couldn’t help thinking of how against this whole process Rachel was.
Maybe she was right. There was something weird about wanting to create a legacy so badly, or even to make money so badly, that you were willing to jack off into a cup, a tube, whatever it was. I didn’t know all the logistics of it.
And I didn’t know a single thing about any of these men—any of the men who could possibly be the father of my child.
It wasn’t that I was worried about what Rachel had said. I didn’t care if one of them was a future felon. I was a firm believer in nurture over nature in terms of personality. I had to be; otherwise, I would be forced to acknowledge that one day, I might be just like my own father.
But all the same, I didn’t know anything about any of these people, and I knew there were biological consequences that I might not know about. What if heart disease ran in his family, or dementia? I knew that the clinic screened all the potential candidates, but what if the odds that they thought were acceptable weren’t odds I was comfortable with?
What’s more, even if the odds of my child being born with some kind of genetic defect were exactly the same, whether I went with artificial insemination or pregnancy via intercourse, how would I feel, knowing that my child might have been different if he’d just been conceived differently? Not that I believed in God or anything like that. But maybe there was a consequence to not waiting until the proper time before I had children of my own. Maybe there was a consequence to a child conceived in a sterile hospital environment rather than…
Rather than in an act of hurried passion, on the couch of a man I didn’t even know?
I still blushed, thinking back to Saturday night. The worst part about all of it was that Marcus had actually still tried to contact me. He’d called, and then he’d texted, just checking in to make sure I was doing okay. That I had gotten home all right.
It was another part of that sweet side to him, the side I’d seen in flashes. The side I doubted he let many people see. No, to most people, he was that cocky, arrogant prick I had first met in the hospital. For some reason, he had decided to let me inside of those walls.
I couldn’t do it, though. I knew exactly the kind of shit I was getting mixed up with by being involved with him. If I even dated him, there was a chance of danger. It was part of what made him so sexy and attractive. But I wasn’t a teenager anymore. Sexy and attractive weren’t the be-all, end-all. I knew better than to take things any further than they had already gone.
So I didn’t call him back.
“Leila Warren?” the receptionist asked. “The consultant is ready to see you now.”
I got up and followed her down the hall to one of the offices. I tried my best not to fidget as I entered, but the woman behind the desk, Sandra, was a pleasant, plump, middle-aged woman, and I had to admit, she put me at ease from the minute she shook my hand.
“Come on, let’s sit on the couch,” she said, leading me to the plush green sofa at the side of her office. “I hate sitting at the desk during consultations; it makes me feel like I’m the headmaster at a school or something like that. Needlessly formal.”
I grinned and sat next to her. “Well, I’m sure you know why I’m here,” I said, trailing off uncertainly.
Sandra laughed. “That I do,” she agreed, her blonde curls bouncing as she nodded. “And I want you to know that there’s nothing to worry about here. The process is very straightforward, and we’re discreet about things.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “You’re not going to receive the bill from us in an envelope that has ‘artificial insemination procedure’ all over it.”
I giggled. “Good to know. Could you tell me a bit about it? The process. I’ve read your fliers and everything, but I just want to hear it in your own words.”
“Of course!” Sandra said, sounding like there was nothing better that she’d like to do. “So the first thing that we’d do, once you decided that this was really the route that you wanted to go, would be to do some tests on you, just make sure you’re in good health, figure out when you’ll be ovulating, all of that medical stuff. I’m sure you’re familiar with that part of the process since you’re a nurse.”
“Right,” I said, nodding. “I generally work in the ER, but I read up on the sorts of tests you’d do, and none of that worries me.”
“Perfect, I won’t go into too much detail there, then,” Sandra said, clapping her hands together. “Once we decided that the process would take for you, which I’m sure it would since you’re young and healthy, you’d sit down and pick the sperm donor. We leave it all up to you, and we have pictures and backgrounds of all the men that donate. They list all the pertinent details about the man’s life like his career and education, his hobbies, basically everything about him.” She winked at me. “Don’t you wish you got something like that when you first started dating someone?”
I had to laugh. “Oh yeah,” I agreed. Wouldn’t that make it easy to dissuade myself from having anything to do with Marcus? I could find out all that business he was involved in, all those things that I suspected but didn’t really want to know about him. I could feel my mood darken as I thought about that, and I forced myself to stop thinking about him and focus on this appointment.
“There’s no random selection with your baby,” Sandra said firmly. “You have the ultimate choice in everything. If you can’t find a donor that you like, you don’t get impregnated; it’s as simple as that. We will keep you informed of new donors who join our database, though, if you’re still interested in giving it a try.”
“I like th
at, that there’s no random selection,” I said in relief. I shook my head. “I like the idea of knowing something about the father, even if he’s never involved in the baby’s life.” I paused, a sudden thought striking me. “Does that ever happen?” I asked. “Do you ever get fathers who want to be involved in their babies’ lives?”
“Oh no,” Sandra said, shaking her head. “First of all, we steer clear of calling them ‘fathers.’ I know that biologically that’s what the man is, but that word carries so many connotations with it. The sperm donors here sign over all their rights to be involved with their children. They aren’t even allowed to know if someone has used one of their samples, let alone who has used their sample.”
“But I could find him, couldn’t I? If I really wanted to?”
“I supposed you could, but you’d have to do a lot of digging,” Sandra said. “Although we give you plenty of information about the sperm donors, we never divulge his name or where he lives. Easier for both parties.” She paused. “If you’re looking for a situation where the father is actively involved in your child’s life, perhaps this isn’t the right route for you,” she added delicately.
I shook my head quickly. “That’s not what I’m looking for,” I assured her. “Like I said, I just had some questions about the process.” I grimaced. “I’m not on the best terms with my own father.”
“I see,” Sandra said, looking sympathetic for a moment before she started telling me all about the rest of the process, such as getting pregnant and going through with the pregnancy. She went over all the risks that went along with artificial insemination, all of which I had already done my research on. Still, it made me feel better, listening to her outline all of it in her matter-of-fact tone.
I had to admit; I was really thinking about this. All my worry from when I’d first come into the clinic had disappeared, especially when Sandra brought out a sample bio and started showing me how detailed all of it was. I might not know the guy’s name, and there was still the possibility, like Rachel had said, that he could be a future convict. There was also the possibility, as there always was with a pregnancy, that something could go wrong.