Black Contract

by Charlotte Byrd

  “So, why do you do it?”

  “Because I love it. I love writing. I love this story. And I love the feedback that I get from the readers who are really into this series.”

  Brie nods. “I really hope I get some sort of passion like this.”

  “I sort of hope you don’t,” I say. “I’ve wanted to be a writer since I was a kid. I was obsessive about it. It’s the only thing I ever imagined doing. And now? Well, I am doing it. People are buying the books, but I’m still not making much. Not like if I had a real job. But if I had a real job then I wouldn’t be able to do this. And that’s the paradox.”

  “Still, I wish I had a good answer for what I want to do with my life,” Brie says. “Especially when Dad asks me the question.”

  I smile. Mitch is not one to keep his mouth shut about how worthless he thinks the anthropology degree from Swarthmore is.

  “So, let me get this straight,” I say. “He doesn’t approve of your major but he still doesn’t want you to take a semester off to travel?”

  “He says that he’d be fine with it if I was going to study abroad, took classes, but not just to travel. I don’t know what his problem is, Ellie.”

  I do. He’s a dad. He doesn’t want his little girl tramping around some third world country all alone. It would make him feel a lot better if she went there through some program with some other equally idealistic kids her age. But I can’t say any of this to her right now. I have a new wave of nausea come over me and I barely make it to the bathroom.

  The sheer volume of vomit is no longer the same as it was. So, the anti-nausea medication is definitely working, but it hasn’t taken it away completely.

  “Are you okay?” Brie knocks on the door and then comes in when I don’t reply. I wonder if I should lie for now or tell her the truth.

  But she picks up the bottle of Diclegis from the bathroom sink. “Why do you have this?” she asks.

  “Why?” I ask, not sure how I should respond.

  “Ellie, this is anti-nausea medication that Kim Kardashian took when she was pregnant.”

  “Oh, really?” I play dumb. “And how do you know that? I didn’t know you cared so much about reality stars.”

  “I don’t. But no matter how much I try to block out contemporary culture it still seeps in,” Brie says. “Now, don’t avoid the question. Why the hell are you taking this?”

  “Because the over-the-counter stuff didn’t work,” I say after a moment and bury my head in the toilet.

  Brie stares at me. I wipe my mouth and get up off the floor. I grab my toothbrush and brush my teeth. I glance at Brie in the mirror and note the deer-in-the-headlights look on her face. Perhaps there were more sensitive ways of telling her the big news. The problem is that she will be the first one to know and I’m not entirely sure that’s right. If anyone should be the first to know about this, it is the father of the baby. The problem is that I still haven’t made up my mind how I feel about all of this.

  “You’re…pregnant?” she asks after a moment. I wipe my mouth on the towel hanging behind me and nod.

  “Ellie?” she asks, seeking further confirmation.

  “Yes,” I finally say, turning to face her. “I’m pregnant.”

  Chapter 28 - Ellie

  When we talk about it…

  Brie is more stunned about the pregnancy news than I honestly thought she would be. I am only three years older, but we have always been on somewhat different wavelengths on just about everything in our lives. In many ways, she is more courageous than I am. She’s the one who wants to stand up to our parents and challenge their world views by going out on her own. On the other hand, she readily admits that she’s lost. She wants to travel because school doesn’t feel right anymore and she’s scared of graduating. Graduation is an end point and, without a firm plan, there isn’t really much to do afterward. It’s decision time and she’s not ready.

  “You know you don’t have to have your life figured out at twenty-two,” I say to her over a cup of hot tea. “I know that all those people in your class who have plans for graduate school or law school or have jobs lined up. They make it seem so easy. They make it look like it’s no big deal. But it is. It is a big decision and a big deal.”

  “Thanks for taking the pressure off, sis,” Brie says sarcastically.

  “You know what I mean.”

  “No, not really.”

  “Okay, what I mean is that many people your age feel like, if they don’t have it all together, if they don’t know what to do with their life right at this moment, like it’s all over or something. Like you’re going to waste your time or make a mistake. And all I want to say is that it’s okay to make mistakes. It’s okay to not know where you are headed. Because you’ll figure it out eventually.”

  “Like you?”

  “Haha. I guess you figured me out. I’m saying this as much for me as for you.”

  “You don’t have it figured out?” Brie asks.

  “Not even close.”

  “What are you thinking?”

  She wants to know what I’m going to do about the pregnancy. I don’t have the faintest idea.

  “I don’t know,” I say after a moment. “But making myself crazy about what this all means for my life isn’t going to help any. That’s what I’ve been doing this whole time since I found out and it hasn’t gotten me anywhere.”

  “And where do you want to go?” Brie asks.

  I think about that for a moment. “I’ve never thought of that before. Hmm, I don’t know. The thing is that I never really wanted to be a mom.”

  “You didn’t?” Brie asks.

  I shake my head. Brie and I are sisters but we’re not like many other girls out there. We didn’t spend our childhoods talking about weddings, babies, and marriage. No, we made up stories and played pretend. But rarely about relationships.

  “Did you?” I ask.

  “Actually, I did,” she says after a moment. “I do, I mean.”

  “Really? You want to be a mom?”

  “Well, maybe not right now, but I think it will be kind of cool, you know? To have a little kid to play with.”

  “You don’t just play with them you know,” I say. “They’re a ton of work.”

  Brie gives me a mysterious coy smile.

  “What?” I ask. “What’s that about?”

  “I know you, Ellie. And I know that right now all you’re thinking about is all the things that you won’t be able to do with a baby. Like you think you won’t be able to be yourself anymore. That the baby will make you some sort of mom-character. And as this mom-character, you’ll have to sublimate everything about yourself. Like you’ll have to get a minivan, a house in the suburbs, and a mortgage. Maybe you’ll even have to cut your hair.”

  Shit. Holy mother-fucking shit. She’s spot on in her analysis. I have actually thought all of these things.

  “But those are just the decorative things about what it means to be a mom. Just because other people are like that, it doesn’t mean that you have to be. It doesn’t mean that that’s the kind of life you have to lead.”

  I nod and look away. My eyes are actually watering and I don’t want her to see me cry.

  “You don’t have to cut your hair just because you have a baby, Ellie,” Brie says, putting her arm around me. A big tear rolls down my cheek. She wipes it away and gives me a kiss on the forehead.

  “It’s so stupid,” I finally say. “But I actually thought those things.”

  “I know you did.”

  “I don’t know why,” I mumble. “I mean, I know…rationally, that I’m in charge of my life. And plenty of people have good lives - fulfilling lives - with kids. And that the kids just add to their lives. But whenever I see kids out there with their parents…well, they just seem so all-encompassing, all-consuming that I feel like the parents are drowning.”

  “But your kid doesn’t have to be that way. I mean, you get to make your relationship with him or her as you see fit. At leas
t, until they’re in high school.” Brie laughs.

  “So, you think I will still have time to write with a baby?” I ask.

  “Of course you will. They sleep a hell of a lot and that will be your time to yourself.”

  “And what about traveling? I’ve always loved to go to new places.”

  “Well, now you’ll have a little person to go with you. How fun would that be?”

  I shrug. I never thought of it that way. Like this little baby can be my companion.

  “Remember Charlie?” Brie asks. How could I forget? Charlie was my old dog. “You two used to go everywhere together. You even took her camping when you drove out to Montana with your boyfriend. And she wasn’t an easy dog to take places.”

  Tears roll down my cheeks. I miss Charlie so much; my heart breaks into a million pieces just thinking about her. But Brie is right. I did take Charlie everywhere and she wasn’t exactly a friendly dog. She was a spaniel who didn’t like anyone. Not other people. Not other dogs. That pretty much meant that when we traveled together, I couldn’t really take her inside any establishments.

  “I’m a firm believer that if you made traveling work with Charlie, the baby will be a breeze. Man, she was a handful.”

  I smile through the tears.

  “The thing is, Ellie, I’m not trying to convince you to go either way with this decision. It’s your body and your life. But I just don’t want you thinking that this baby will consume your life for the worse. You will still be able to be you. You will still be able to pursue your dreams and do what you want. Being a mom won’t change who you are at your core, no matter what television shows and movies try to tell you. It will be challenging and tiring at times, but it will also be wonderful. It may the best thing that will ever happen to you.”

  “I really appreciate it,” I say, giving her a warm hug. “And thanks for making this decision easier,” I add sarcastically. Brie laughs.

  We spend the afternoon sitting around and gabbing. I haven’t laughed this hard in a really long time. Not since…Caroline. We order some Indian food and put on Thelma and Louise as we wait for dinner to come.

  “This movie is amazing,” Brie says. “Way ahead of its time. We talked about it both in my film class and my women’s studies class.”

  “It’s one of my favorites. And Brad Pitt isn’t too hard on the eyes in it either.”

  “I think this is one of his earliest roles.”

  When the buzzer goes off, Brie gets the food and pays the delivery man. The bags immediately fill the house with the aroma of curry, making my mouth salivate. Unfortunately, a moment later, I find myself running to the bathroom to puke. I refuse to come out until Brie sticks the food out onto the balcony or the refrigerator. When I do finally emerge, I can still smell it.

  “Wow, you’re really sick,” Brie says.

  “Yeah, and this is with taking four pills a day.”

  “Is there anything else you can do?”

  I shake my head, no. “Without the pills, I’d probably be in the emergency room getting fluids. Kate Middleton was like this. I think she ended up at the hospital. Listen, I don’t want to talk about this.”

  “Okay,” Brie says. “So what do you want to talk about?”

  I shrug.

  “So, what are you going to do?” she asks after a moment. I shrug again.

  “Listen, that was a great talk and all and I totally see your point. But I still have no idea what I’m going to do about this pregnancy. I still have no idea if it’s the right thing for me, at this moment.”

  Brie nods.

  “Besides, whatever I do, I have to tell the father first.”

  “Oh, Aiden Black,” Brie says.

  I furrow my brow. I don’t like the tone with which she says his name.

  “Yes?” I say. “You don’t approve?”

  She shakes her head.

  “Oh, c’mon, Brie. You haven’t even met him.”

  “Okay, fine. I’ll give you that. But, Ellie, the CEO of Owl? Really?”

  “At least, he’s got a job,” I say.

  “Whatever.” She shakes her head. She hasn’t approved of many of my boyfriends, but something is different about her attitude toward Aiden.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask. She shrugs. “Brie?”

  “Okay, fine. You know that he’s a playboy, right? You know about his reputation? I mean, he must’ve dated every woman in the Victoria’s Secret catalog, going back a decade.”

  “He’s a nice guy, Brie.”

  “His reputation is worse than Leonardo DiCaprio’s when it comes to womanizing.”

  “Brie, he’s a really good guy, okay? He hasn’t cheated on me. Yes, he dated a lot of models in the past. And I definitely don’t look like one. But… I don’t know, we have this connection.”

  “What kind of connection?”

  I try to explain how Aiden and I feel about each other, but it doesn’t really come out right. It’s hard to put into words.

  “Besides, he’s not a creep or anything, if you’re thinking that. He doesn’t molest or hit on women who aren’t interested. If you’re worried about him being accused of that by the #MeToo movement, you don’t have to worry.”

  “I just thought that he was a horn-dog,” Brie says after a moment. “I didn’t think he assaulted anyone.”

  “Okay, good. Well, I just wanted to make that clear.”

  That’s when Blake and Tom pop into my head. Brie doesn’t know anything about that part of my life. And it’s about to become a lot more public, so I decide to come clean. I start with the auction, at the beginning, and talk for close to an hour without an interruption. Brie listens carefully before reaching over and giving me a warm embrace.

  “I’m really sorry,” she whispers, her eyes wet with tears. “I can’t believe you went through all of that…and you didn’t tell me about it earlier.”

  “We just haven’t been talking much lately,” I say. “And frankly, I was a little embarrassed.”

  “So, Caroline killed herself after all, huh?”

  I nod. This is the first person outside of Aiden who knows the truth. But she won’t be the last.

  “You know, I might not know this Aiden Black, but I think he did the right thing telling the DA about Caroline. I think that leaving that letter was her way of letting you know that she really did want people to know. She just needed help sharing it with the world.”

  I nod. I know she’s right, I just hate it.

  Chapter 29 - Ellie

  When he shows up…

  After spending my morning with my head buried in the toilet, I bring my laptop into bed with me and open my last project. It’s the next book in the auction series. I skim over the last 3,000 words that I’ve written to refresh my memory and look over the notes that I made before I got sick. Well, not sick exactly. It’s not like being pregnant is being sick, but it’s definitely not being well. Everything seems in order. I have the next chapter all laid out. I type up the notes on what I want to cover and start the timer. I always write in twenty minute intervals. That way if nothing comes out, I only write for twenty minutes and the whole process doesn’t seem that overwhelming. But usually I just keep going. Twenty minutes quickly turns into forty and then sixty. Typically, I manage to get through three sessions before I get tired or need to take a break. Not this time though.

  I sit in front of my computer and stare at the cursor. Nothing comes to mind. I mean, everything is planned out, but words are just so hard to come by. I sit staring at the blank page for exactly six minutes and thirty nine seconds before I give up and stop the timer.

  “Shit,” I say. This is much worse than I thought. I mean, I knew that the nausea made it hard to walk around and function as a person, but I didn’t know that it would actually have an effect on my brain. It’s not that I feel particularly tired this morning. I just feel…drained.

  Then I do what any writer should never do. Turn on Facebook and read my

  Newsfeed. When I get bore
d, I follow that up with about ten articles on BuzzPost. I even take a few of their useless quizzes, the ones I used to write. I find out that I should retire in Belize based on the type of kitchen I like and that I should paint my house white based on the number of pets I have (or don’t have as it is in my case). I avoid the quiz about how many kids I will have based on the kind of 90’s shows I like. That one just hits a little bit too close to home.

  And then something occurs to me. I’m not sure where it comes from except that the idea formulates somewhere in the back of my head. It’s a story about a guy who loves his family and child, but feels trapped by the whole thing. Trapped because he has to work as a teacher when he really wants to be a writer. One day, he goes on a run and stumbles upon the body of a dead girl. When he’s about to call the police, he sees a large suitcase full of cash next to her. The bag contains over two million dollars. He takes it and that’s when things start to go bad for him. It’s just a kernel of an idea. I don’t really have any idea of where it will go or why, but I quickly pick up a piece of paper and start outlining. I write down what happens in chapter after chapter and the ideas just pour out of me. It reminds me of the time when I was writing my first romance book, about the auction. It was true to what really happened and then I thought that the words came so easily because I didn’t have to make anything up. Yet now, I’m making up every last bit and the story is unfolding just as fast. I must be onto something.

  An hour later, the outline for The Dead Girl is complete. I have no idea why I’m working on this. I doubt that it’s going to go anywhere. I mean, I don’t even have a thriller name, a brand, or even a mailing list, and yet it feels exciting just to think about working on it. There’s something intriguing about a man who finds a bag of money and sees it as an escape from his life. And yet, after going through all of that drama and action, what he realizes at the end is that what he really wants is to have his family again.