Unexpected Daddies

by Lively, R. S.

  Slipping the small remote out of my pocket, I point it at the big flat screen TV and turn it on, then hit play. There's a moment of static, before the picture resolves itself into a crystal clear, HD image of Rupert and Mason sitting on a park bench.

  “What the fuck is this?” Mason hisses.

  The audio comes across as clear as the picture on the screen.

  “You have my money?” Rupert asks.

  “One hundred thousand,” Mason answers. “As requested.”

  “I can't wait to see you bring him down,” Rupert says. “Smug son of a bitch. Thinks he can fire me? Thinks he can put hands on me? I'm going to fuck Carter seven ways to Sunday.”

  “You're going to have to testify,” Mason says.

  “I'll say whatever you want me to say in court,” Rupert says. “Just give me some prepared answers and a day to memorize them. I'll put on the best fuckin' show you've ever seen.”

  “Good. I'm going to need you to be convincing.”

  “I can lie just as well as you can, Mason,” he says. “Maybe better.”

  “Yeah, well make sure you do,” Mason says. “I'm going to be counting on it. You're going to be my star witness. When I'm done with Carter Bishop, he's not going to have a pot to piss in. He'll be on the street corner begging for spare change.”

  “Can't wait to see it,” Rupert says.

  Mason hands Rupert an envelope and he opens it, taking out the bundle of cash – making sure the camera gets a good look at it. Mason quickly slaps his hands down and stuffs the cash back into the envelope.

  “Count it later,” he growls. “Fucking amateur. You don't flash that shit in public.”

  Rupert shrugs. “Sorry. First time.”

  “Yeah well, you better get your shit straight,” he says. “Now, wait for my call.”

  Mason stands up and walks away, leaving Rupert with the envelope full of cash.

  “I think we got him,” he says to the camera, a goofy grin on his face. “Crooked motherfucker.”

  The video ends and the screen goes dark. I drop the remote on the table and look at Mason, smiling at him smugly. Mason is sitting there, his mouth opening and closing, his eyes practically bulging out of their sockets. He looks up at me, a stricken look upon his face.

  “You son of a bitch,” he seethes at Rupert. “You set me up.”

  Rupert chuckles. “Yeah, looks that way, huh?” he says. “Granted, it's not as cool as you setting up that woman in Carter’s house – which, if you would give me her number, I'd appreciate it.”

  “I can explain this,” he says, trying to go into spin mode. “It's not what it looks like –”

  Mason, maybe for the first time in his life, doesn't have an answer. We blindsided him so perfectly, he doesn't know what to do. It's a beautiful sight.

  “Maybe it isn't what it looks like. I'm no legal expert,” I say. “Maybe it's best if we let someone higher up the DOJ food chain decide that. I have a close friend with personal connections to the Attorney General and I'm quite sure they'd be interested in seeing what one of their –”

  “What do you want?” he asks quickly. “To make this go away. What do you want?”

  I smile and give Rupert a nod. We have him right where we want him. It's over. We've won.

  “Well, for starters, you're going to stay the fuck out of our lives. I see you sniffing around, if I even hear of you speaking our names, I'll burn you down,” I say. “You got that? From now on, you leave me the fuck alone. If Darby wants to have a relationship with you, that's her call. But you will respect her. You will not try to control or manipulate her. Those days are over. Period.”

  He sighs and runs a hand over his face. I don't know if he's even hearing what I'm saying, but I press on anyway.

  “Next, you are going to resign as a U.S. Attorney. Immediately,” I say. “I don't give a fuck what reason you give them for quitting, but you're done. Somebody as corrupt and abusive as you doesn't deserve to be in any position of power or influence. You are a corrupt son of a bitch.”

  Mason looks at me, his eyes filled with – something. I don't know what it feels like to have all your dreams and ambitions being stripped away from you one by one, so I can't really describe it. I imagine it must feel incredibly shitty though.

  “Second,” I say, “You are never going to run for elected office. Ever. You do that, this video will be the fucking centerpiece of your opponent's campaign.”

  Mason looks absolutely miserable. I can see him trying to find some way out of this, trying to find some spin or angle to work. After a few seconds, I can see the look of defeat in his eyes as he realizes he's trapped.

  “Third,” I say. “You’re going to surrender your law license and never practice again. If I find out you are, this video goes public. I figure since you were on board with giving me the death penalty, the least I can do is return the favor. Don't you think?”

  “You son of a bitch,” he hisses.

  “You're lucky I'm not requiring you to forfeit all of your assets,” I say. “I'm sure you made a lot of money doing what you did. I'm giving you the chance to go enjoy it. Magnanimous of me, isn't it?”

  Mason stares at me, hatred burning bright in his eyes. I glare back, unable to keep the grin off my face. I know it's a dick thing to do, but I can't stop myself from rubbing his face in it just a little more. Come on, the prick deserves it after all the shit he pulled.

  “What was it you told me once?” I ask. “No victory is as sweet as a total and complete domination of your opponent? Damn. You were right. I mean, this is an awesome feeling.”

  “Carter.”

  It's the first thing Darby has said since she lunged at Mason, so I turn to her. “What is it?”

  She sighs, and I can see the struggle on her face – she’s obviously conflicted. She knows Mason made his own bed and should now have to lie in it. But, being the compassionate woman she is, she hates seeing Mason being raked over the coals like this.

  I guess no matter how big of a piece of shit he is, he's still her brother.

  “Do you think you can loosen up on those demands a little?” she asks softly.

  “Which one?” I ask.

  “Maybe you can let him keep his law license,” she says. “It's all he knows. He's nothing without it.”

  “He's nothing with it,” I say. “Just a petty, angry man with a need to control everyone around him.”

  “You beat him,” she says. “You know it. I know it. He knows it. You don't have to take everything from him. You don't have to be like him. Show me you can be better than him.”

  “Victory has to be total and complete when you play with somebody like this asshole,” I say. “You give them an inch, they'll come right back and take a mile.”

  Darby turns to Mason. “This is over, Mason,” she says. “If Carter is generous enough to let you keep your law license, you will abide by each and every other condition he sets forth. If you don't, I'll go to the media and release that video myself. Do you understand?”

  Mason looks at her for a long moment, and his face falls. He knows he's beaten, and that we have him in checkmate. Slowly, he nods and looks down at the tabletop, completely defeated. Darby turns back to me, waiting for my answer. Waiting to see if I can be a good man.

  She's right. He's beaten. As much as I'd love to pile it on – and I'd really, really love to just bury this fucker – I don't have to be like him. I shouldn't be like him. I should strive to be better than him.

  Victory is enough in itself, and we've already claimed that. We don't need to burn the whole world down too. Because she's right, doing so would make me just like him.

  “Deal,” I say. “Thank your sister, Mason.”

  “Thank you,” he mutters.

  I exchange looks with Rupert, who's smiling wide, and Darby, who's not. I understand why she's torn, but I can't keep the smile off my face. We beat Mason White. We got one over on Ahab. I love winning. Almost as much as I love making fat piles of money.<
br />
  Though, both still pale in comparison to how much I love Darby. I pull her to me and kiss her. It's a warm, sweet kiss, and when I look into her eyes, she smiles.

  “Thank you,” she whispers.

  “No, thank you,” I say. “For reminding me that being a good man is more important than dancing on the graves of your enemies.”

  Mason is watching us, and I know he wants to say something cutting. Too bad he's lost any high ground he had. Sucks to be on the losing side of a fight.

  “We're done here,” I say. “Get out of my office. Oh, and have a very Merry Christmas, Mason.”

  “Look at you getting into the Christmas spirit all of the sudden,” Rupert says.

  I jerk my thumb at Darby. “It's her. She might be rubbing off on me.”

  “It's a good change,” she says.

  “The world already has enough Ebenezer’s,” Rupert says. “Which reminds me, have a happy holiday, Mason.”

  Mason rises and shuffles out, his head hung low, his entire persona – Ahab the terrible – stripped away completely. He's a former shell of himself as he passes through the doors and out of our offices.

  It's gratifying as hell.

  I shake Rupert's hand and pat him on the back. “Great work, man,” I say. “That was awesome.”

  “Do I get to keep the hundred grand?” he asks.

  I shrug. “I don't care,” I say. “I consider it found money.”

  “Excellent,” he says. “I gotta buy something nice for my barista.”

  “New rattle?” I ask. “Footy pajamas maybe?”

  “Bastard,” Rupert says, laughing as he bounds out of the office.

  I turn to Darby and can see that she's still having trouble with what just happened to her brother. Despite everything he's done to us – to her – she seems conflicted.

  “You okay?” I ask.

  She purses her lips and looks up at me for a moment, then nods. “Yeah, I'm good,” she says. “I'm fine.”

  “You sure?” I ask. “You don't look entirely fine.”

  “That was tougher than I expected,” she says. “It hurt. Hearing that he doesn't care about my happiness, and that my life needs to revolve around his ambitions – that was hard to hear. It hurts.”

  “I'm sorry you had to hear it,” I say.

  “I'm not, actually,” she says after a moment of reflection. “It was probably the best thing that could have happened. I've given him too many chances. I've made excuses for him because he's my brother. My only family. But, no more. If he wants a relationship with me, he's going to have to earn it.”

  I pull her to me and wrap her in a warm embrace. “Good,” I say. “I'm so proud of you. I know this was hard.”

  She looks up at me, her eyes sparkling. “I love you, Carter.”

  “I love you too,” I say and give her a quick, chaste kiss.

  As we walk through the office holding hands, I feel happy. Content. I can't wait to tell Pops what just went down. Maybe I'll take the video feed from the conference room, just so I can give him a good laugh.

  He deserves it. It is Christmas, after all.

  Epilogue

  Darby

  The night air is crisp and pleasant. There's a light snow on the ground, and soon enough, the temperatures will be too cold to go on a carriage ride through Central Park. It's cheesy, I know. But, it's something I've always wanted to do, so, I booked a ride for Carter and me.

  Besides, I couldn’t think of a better way to deliver the news I have for him than with a romantic evening out. Fear tears through me though. He’s been in an unusually upbeat and chipper mood tonight – which is saying something, given his normal state of being. But, like Pops says, lately, Carter looks like he’s walking on sunshine, with his head in the clouds.

  I hate to be the one who brings the rain.

  We pass a group of carolers in the park, singing one of the holiday standards loudly and lustily. And for the first time since I've known him, I actually see Carter smile.

  “Are you smiling at the Christmas music?” I ask.

  He shrugs. “Maybe,” he says. “Maybe it's growing on me. Maybe, I wasn't wrong, and you're rubbing off on me, making me less Scrooge-like.”

  “Oh, I dare to dream,” I say and laugh.

  “Baby steps,” he says. “Who knows, maybe next year, I'll even decorate the office myself.”

  “Oh, now you're just lying,” I say and laugh.

  I have to say, I like this change in Carter. I like that like he's releasing the demons of his past and opening up to entirely new ways of thinking. Of being. That maybe, he's learned to be at peace with his past and optimistic about his future.

  Hopefully, he still feels that way about our future after I deliver my news.

  Carter sits beside me, looking into my eyes, a look of absolute adoration on his face. He looks at me like I’m the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on and I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of it.

  As the carriage bumps along though, butterfly wings of fear beat against my ribcage. I know I’m carrying a bombshell that’s going to rock his entire world. And the thing that scares me the most is, I have no idea how he’s going to feel about it. We’ve never talked about it before.

  I don’t know what I’m going to do if he’s not receptive to it.

  “Are you okay?” he asks.

  I nod. “Yeah, I’m good.”

  “Did you talk to Mason today?” he asks. “You usually look a little shell-shocked after you talk to him.”

  I laugh. “No, not today,” I reply.

  “How are things going with that?”

  “I wouldn’t get your hopes up about being invited to Christmas dinner anytime soon.”

  Carter laughs. “Well damn. I guess I should take him off my holiday card list.”

  “Probably a good idea,” I say. “He’s doing fine though. Bored. Private practice isn’t stimulating enough for him, I guess.”

  “Too bad,” Carter says, his tone carrying a hard edge.

  “He’s trying,” I say. “He’s really trying. It’s going to take a while before we can actually have anything resembling a relationship, but at least he’s making an effort.”

  Carter leans over and kisses me on the cheek. “Well, as long as he’s treating you right and you’re happy, that’s all that matters to me,” he says. “I’ll support you no matter what.”

  I lean into him, resting my head on his shoulder. Carter wraps his arms around me and holds me tight. The cold night air is filled with the sound and spirit of the holidays, and I soak it all in for a moment, relishing the season. It makes me insanely happy to see Carter finally starting to enjoy it as well. If only a little.

  We ride in silence, cuddling in the carriage, and I know I’m putting off what I need to tell him. But I can't help it. I’m terrified. My biggest fear is that if I tell him, he’ll think I’m trying to trap him, when nothing could be further from the truth.

  Seriously, when he hears that I’m pregnant, what’s he going to do? We’ve never talked about wanting kids.

  I'm beyond terrified, because if this goes bad, it means I'll have to raise the child on my own. Given the fact that I have the means, that wouldn’t be a big issue.

  I just don’t want my baby growing up with me as its only parent.

  “You seem distracted tonight,” Carter says. “More than usual. What’s up?”

  My heart jumps up in my throat, beating like a jackhammer, and I feel like I'm about to pass out. I need to tell him. It’s just hard to open my mouth and get the words out. It’s terrifying, in fact.

  I take a deep, mindful breath and release it slowly, calming and quieting my mind, so I can force myself to spit it out, one word at a time.

  “There’s something I have to tell you, Carter.”

  “I figured that much,” he says. “What is it?”

  I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out. My mouth suddenly feels dry, and I swear to God, I feel like I’m going
to vomit.

  “You’re white as a sheet,” he says and laughs. “What, are you gonna tell me, that you’re pregnant?’

  I look at him, feeling my eyes grow wider, but my heart, strangely enough, seems to stop beating at all. Carter stares at me, and when I don’t answer his joke, his expression changes. His eyes are as wide as dinner plates and his mouth falls open. His face blanches – like he's just seen a ghost.

  “You’re kidding me,” he says.

  “No,” I squeak out softly.

  “But – how?”

  I cock an eyebrow and look at him. “Really?”

  “I mean, we’re always so careful,” he says.

  “There was that one time,” I say. “In the bathtub. That's the only thing I can think of, unless the protection failed. Either way though – yeah.”

  He sits back against the seat and looks up at the sky, letting out a long breath. His face is unreadable to me. I have no idea what he’s thinking or feeling.

  “Wow,” is all he says. “Unreal.”

  Snow flurries swirl through the air. The Christmas lights all around us suddenly seem garish, and the holiday music feels forced. I’m completely overwhelmed and on the verge of a complete breakdown.

  I close my eyes, take several deep, calming breaths, and wait a moment. When I feel a little more grounded, I open my eyes and turn to him.

  “I know we haven’t talked about it,” I say. “And I know you may not be ready to be a father. I just – if you don’t want to be a father, that’s fine. Just tell me. But, I can’t give this baby up. Even if that means raising it on my own. Obviously, I'd rather have you in our lives, but if you don't want to, I get it, Carter. And it's fine.”

  “I understand,” he says.

  Those two words sink into my heart like a lead weight. He doesn’t have an expression of joy on his face. Of hope. Of looking forward to a shared future. It’s a look of resignation, and an expression of goodbye. I bury my face in my hands, holding back the tears that threaten to flow. I knew this was a possibility and did my best to prepare myself emotionally for it.