by Leah Holt
Picking up the phone, I pressed it to my ear and listened for a dial tone. I thought it was funny to hear that noise, the distinct annoying buzz that spewed out of the receiver. My grandmother had a land line up until they day she died, and I always felt that I was one of the few people left in the world my age that even knew what a dial tone was.
At twenty-four, by the time I could use a phone, roughly seven or so, cellphones were already a regular home commodity. The younger the person, the less likely they even knew how to use that old contraption hanging on the wall.
Dialing the number August gave me, the phone rang twice, and was picked up by a man I assumed was Jerry. “Be at the doors in five,” he said, the phone going dead, trading the dial tone for an even more annoying Ern Ern Ern noise.
Placing the phone back, I grabbed my purse and made sure I had put my key inside. The last thing I wanted to do was get locked out my first day. Locking the door, I took the elevator down to the parking garage and, low and behold, there was a jet black Lincoln waiting right outside the doors.
A man emerged from the car as I walked outside, coming around to the passenger side and opening the door. “Ms. Day,” he said, tipping his hat.
“Jerry?” I asked, pointing at him curiously.
“That's me.”
Stepping to the door, I held out my hand for him to take. Jerry looked at me, a layer of hesitance in his stance as he slowly took my hand to shake. “Please, just call me Ella, Ms. Day makes me think I'm teaching.”
“Sure, no problem.” Holding the door open, he let me slip inside and then leaned down to ask, “Where to?”
“A grocery store, I'm in charge of dinner tonight.”
“You got it.” Closing the door, Jerry climbed back into the driver's seat and buckled up. “What are you making?”
“Actually, I have no idea, got any suggestions? You know August better than I do, what does he like?”
“Well, what do you like to cook? Because Mr. Burke likes it all.” The car moved forward, and I kept my eyes out the window.
“I like to cook a lot of different things, but I like cooking Japanese.”
“I've got the perfect little place to take you, leave it to me.”
It took us about twenty minutes with the traffic to go a few blocks. Jerry double parked outside a small Japanese grocery store. Passing me an envelope, he gave me a warm smile. “August said to make sure you get this if you go out.”
“What is it?”
“I don't have a clue, I was asked to give it, not open it.” Jerry kept checking his mirrors, keeping an eye on the other cars around us.
Opening the envelope, it almost exploded in my hand, as the seems gave out once the glue was gone, threatening to spill a stack of cash onto the floor. “What the hell is this for?” I asked Jerry, but I knew he wouldn't have the answer I was looking for.
“I'm guessing it's so you can buy stuff.”
“Well, I don't want it, not like this.” Tucking the flap inside the pocket, I held it out to him. “Here, take it back. You can give it to August when you see him.”
“I was told to give it to you, that's what I did. I can't take it back.” Holding up his hand, he gently pushed it back in my direction.
“I'm not taking this. You can either take it and give it back, or I'm going to leave right here in the backseat.”
“Ms. Day—”
“Ella,” I said, interrupting him before he could finish.
“Ella, just take it. You don't have to spend it, and you can give it back to him later.”
“Jerry, I really don't feel comfortable taking this money. Please, take it. Give it back to him, go on a spending spree, I don't really care. But I don't want it, not yet. Tell him I refused to take it from you. I'm a stubborn bitch sometimes, he'll have to deal with it.”
Setting the money down on the center console, I opened the door and climbed out. Poking my head back in, I said, “Give me half an hour, that should do it.”
Jerry gave me a nod and then pushed his way back into the moving heard of vehicles. I wasn't trying to make the guy feel bad, and I didn't want him to get into any trouble for me not taking the money, but we still hadn't sat down yet to really determine shit.
I wasn't going to have any debt to August right away, that wouldn't be smart. I would buy dinner, I would cook him a bomb ass meal, one he'd never forget. And then we could iron out terms.
Money might have been the motive, but I wasn't going to let it blind me. I still needed to try and keep some of the control, no matter how small it might be.
Dinner would do for now.
Filling the basket with everything I'd need; yakisoba noodles, white cabbage, aonori powdered seaweed, shredded pickled ginger, bonito flakes, all the things I would need to cook my fried noodle dish.
Standing on the sidewalk after I paid, I waited for Jerry to pick me up. The street was packed with cars. Breaks were squeaking, horns were blaring, echoing off the brick buildings that towered over my head.
Between the chatter of city noise, I could hear a very soft cry. It was coming from beneath me, the cry almost unnoticeable if there hadn't been a solitary moment where everything stopped and the world was silent. The moment couldn't have been more than half a second, just enough time for that pint-sized mewling to find my ears.
Dropping to my haunches, I tried to listen carefully as the world swiftly popped back on and it was hard to discern my own thoughts from the inaudible mumbling of pedestrians.
Walking like a duck, I moved around the sidewalk, getting kicked and bumped as people walked by me, unaware that I was on the ground.
“Meow.” The cry was small, but I was close enough to hear it really well, and know it came from street level.
Looking over the edge of the sidewalk, I saw a sewer drain, and heard the cry again. Taking out my phone, I turned on the flashlight, and pointed it into the drain. Eye shine flickered and the kitten meowed again, this time more intense.
“Aw,” I said, reaching into the drain to scoop up the small kitten. I felt the sharp nails as it clawed me, letting out a hiss. “It's alright, come on, tsk tsk tsk, come here.” Slowly moving my hand in, the kitten allowed me to pull it out of the drain.
Holding it tightly in my hand, I pressed it to my chest and ran my thumb up and down its nose. There was no more resistance, no hissing or attempts to get free. The gray kitten purred, snuggling up under my neck and rubbing its face on my chest.
“Well aren't you cute, where's your mama?” Scratching its head, the kitten kept purring and rubbing, purring and rubbing. “What am I going to do with you?”
“Whatcha got there?” I heard a man ask and looked up to see Jerry sitting in the car with the passenger window open.
“I just found him in the sewer drain right here.”
“You taking him home?”
“I don't know, what else can I do with him? I can't just let him go.”
“I can take him to the pound.”
The idea of that made me cringe. “Does August like cats?” I asked.
Shrugging his shoulder, his eyes moved between the mirrors. “I'm not sure, I've never seen him with one, but that doesn't mean anything.”
“Should I take him?” The kitten stuck its tiny claws into my shirt, crawling up on my shoulder and trying to hide itself in my hair. Pulling him off, I pressed him back into my chest.
“I think if you don't, he'll find you anyway.” Jerry chuckled, noting how attached the little thing seemed already.
Gently placing him (or her, I still wasn't sure) into my pocket book, he poked his tiny head out but didn't try to jump or resist. Climbing into the car, Jerry drove me and my new little friend back to August's house.
I wasn't sure if August would let me keep it or if he would make me bring it to the pound, but for the moment, I was actually excited. I loved cats, and this one reminded me of a stray that I used to feed when I was a little girl.
“What are you going to call it?” Je
rry asked. “My kids wanted a cat once, they decided to name it Grouch, he was a bit of a prick, so it fit him well I suppose. The only thing about having that cat, it turned into my wife's, the kids didn't do a thing for it. But that cat lived for seventeen years, little bugger was a fighter.”
Petting his head, I stared at the gray fur ball in my purse. “I'm not sure, I don't know if it's a boy or a girl yet, so I need a unisex name. What do you think of Dumpster?”
Jerry peered at me through his rear-view mirror, arching a brow. He didn't need to say anything, I already knew what he was thinking.
“Alright, not Dumpster.” Thinking for a second, I had the perfect name pop into my head. “I've got it. . .”
Chapter Fifteen
August
I could smell something amazing in the elevator. The doors opened and I stood outside my apartment, wondering how something that smelled so incredible was coming out of my place. It was almost six, a little later than I had expected, but not too late for dinner. Or what was coming after.
Tonight we're doing. My mind is made up, we're not wasting any time.
Opening the door, I was smacked in the face with a savory stew of pork and onion, mixed with the scent of ginger and peppers. It smelled delicious. My stomach grumbled as I dropped my keys into the small bowl by the door and stepped around the corner of the entry way to find Ella moving around the kitchen as if she had been cooking in there for years.
She was standing at the stove, flipping a pan with one hand, tossing the vegetables into the air, and catching them easily. Ella poured bowls of different seasoning onto the vegetables, continuing to coat them with giant sweeps of the pan.
“I'm starving and something smells amazing,” I said, moving to the center island, my eyes never leaving her. “What is it?”
“Yakisoba fried noodles, it's Japanese.”
Walking to the fridge, I opened it and grabbed a bottle of beer. “Want one?”
“Sure,” she said, pulling her eyes off the food just long enough to give me a small smile.
Taking two frosted glasses from the freezer, I popped open the beers and began to pour.
Ella's eyes kept flicking between the noodles and me, watching what I was doing just as closely as she watched her own task. “What are you doing?” she asked, dropping chunks of chicken into the pan.
Holding the glass at a forty-five degree angle, I slowly poured the beer. “I'm pouring you the perfect beer.” Straightening the glass, I passed it to her. “Here, take a sip and tell me it's not the best beer you've ever had.”
“That's really good,” she said, licking the thin layer of foam off her top lip. “It tastes different, why does it taste like that?”
“It's a trick of the trade. You never want to drink quality beer out of a bottle or can. It does the beer no justice.”
“So this is what you do for work, you play with booze and different ways to drink it?” Plating the noodles, she carried them to the table and placed them down at two seats she had set.
“Yeah, I guess you could put it that way. I make beer, and all of this goes hand in hand with it. It helps to sell the product if you know the best way to showcase it.” Following her to the table, I carried our drinks. “This looks great, thanks for cooking. It's actually really nice to come home to a hot meal. Most of the time my housekeeper will cook and put it in the fridge for when I get home.”
Twisting to look at me, she had a satisfied smile on her face. “It's no problem, I actually enjoy cooking. It's even nicer to be cooking for someone else and not just myself.” The candles in the center of the table were lit, the small flames flickering back and forth, casting a glow of orange and red across Ella's face. Fanning out her arm, she said,“Dinner is served.”
“You even lit the candles.”
“They were there,” shrugging her shoulder, she adjusted the candle holder slightly. “Why have something if you're never going to use it.”
The warm light of the candle created waves across her skin. The shadows of flames curled around her cheeks and jaw, reminding me of a warrior princess.
She looked so powerful, so beautiful, so incredibly fuckable. . .
God damn, I want this woman.
Sitting down, I picked up my fork and took a bite. “Wow, this is amazing, Ella, really.” Wiping my mouth with my napkin, I nodded. “I'm serious, this is incredible. Where did you learn to cook like this?”
“Thank you,” she said humbly as she spun some noodles on her fork. “My mother taught me a thing or two over the years, and the rest I learned from practice.”
“I'm impressed.” Tipping a fork full of food in her direction, I stuffed it into my mouth.
“So. . .” Ella's voice was strong, but soft, as she looked up at me under hooded lids. “I think this would be the perfect time to get any awkward and uncomfortable questions out of the way. I just want to put it all out there.”
“Alright, ask me anything you want. What are your concerns?” Wiping my mouth with my napkin, I sat back, giving her all of my attention.
Her eyes fluttered around my face, bouncing from my nose to my lips, and up to my forehead. She was wearing her nerves like a satin cloak, doing her best to stay grounded and not sound unnerved. “I don't know, this whole thing is crazy and happened so fast. I don't even know if I've processed what the hell it is I actually agreed to. Where do I start?”
“Let's start with this. You will be fine, we will be fine, and the baby we have will always be fine. That will be our top priority once it's born, taking care of the baby first. We can agree on that, right?”
“How do you know everything will be fine?” she asked, her voice teetering in deep thought. “You can't know that for sure. One day this child will have questions and we'll need to give answers. What do we tell them when they get older and ask us how we met, or what happened when we found out we were pregnant? This isn't your typical story, this is something totally different.”
“We make something up, we can come up with a story—our story, the one we'll tell anyone who asks.”
“August, doesn't that seem like a pain in the ass? We'd have to live with this lie for the rest of our lives.”
“People live with a whole lot worse, Ella, I don't think this is going to send us to hell, or that our little white lie will send our baby to a shrink one day. He or she will only know what we tell them, and if we stick to our story, there won't be room for questions.”
“Alright, so say we do create this story or whatever, what happens after the baby comes? Are you expecting me to just live here forever, pretending that we're a happy couple for the next eighteen years? Living in lies with a smile on face as the world judges us in the paper because of who you are?”
“That's one of those questions we'll need to let play out on its own. As far as I'm concerned, that's up to you. I won't force you to do anything, but you can stay as long as you want.” Resting my hands on the table, I held them open, showing her I was just as vulnerable to this whole thing as she was. “As much as I need this, I can't predict how it'll end. But I won't let you stumble and fall, I'll be here for you just as much as I'll be here for the baby.”
Ella stared at me for a wordless minute, her fork poking and prodding the chicken on her plate. I didn't want her to worry about the things we couldn't control. The world would have their opinion, but I would never run from her and the baby.
Regardless of what the future brought, I would never abandon either of them. I was choosing this responsibility, as much as I needed it, I was also man enough to know it came with weight.
“Okay, and what about the sex?” she asked matter of fact, her lips pursing. “How does that work?”
“Well, the man takes his—”
Cutting me off, Ella giggled. “You know what I mean, I'm not asking you for a grade school sex ed explanation.”
“You sure? Because I can give you all the fine points if you have any burning questions.”
“August—” she sai
d seriously, crooking her mouth to one side.
“Alright, alright, I'll stop playing around. Tonight, that's when the sex starts.”
“You're serious?”
“Very.”
“And what if—”
Not letting her finish, I reiterated the reason we were both there.“A baby is the point of this whole thing. I need a baby and you needed to get pregnant like yesterday.”
“So we're really having sex tonight?”
“We sure are, right after dinner.”
“That's not much warning.” Taking a small bite of noodles, her eyes were flighty over the table, looking at everything but my face.
“Look, I don't want you to worry or be embarrassed. It's fine with me if you didn't shave or anything.” Smiling, I shrugged my shoulder nonchalantly. “I kinda like bush anyway.”
“Oh my God.” Hanging her head, Ella dropped her fork onto her plate. It looked like she couldn't breathe, like I had sucked the air right out of her lungs.
“What? I'm being honest, it really doesn't matter to me. Shaved, not shaved, it all feels the same once I'm inside.”
“I should be offended.”
“And you're not?” I asked, cautiously watching her reaction.
“No, if anything I'm confused. For someone who's the head of a company, regularly in the public eye—you really don't act like I would expect.”
“What did you expect?” I asked, unable to hide the smile on my face. “Uptight? Conceited? Lacking a sense of humor?”
“I don't know, I guess I just thought you'd be more bland, boring even.”
Reaching out, I took her hand in mine and squeezed. “Ella, the one thing you're going to learn about me is that I'm just a normal guy. The money and the company don't dictate who I am. I burp, I fart, I make dirty jokes, and will compliment your amazing ass. I make mistakes and don't always know what I'm doing, but I'm not the guy who pretends that he's better than someone else, regardless of what society tries to dictate. But don't worry, I also know when it's appropriate to joke and when to keep my mouth shut. I might be a regular man on the inside, but I do need to be professional too.”