His Secret Baby

by Ashlee Price

  “Get in the car!” I told him in no uncertain terms.

  “Fuck you.”

  “Jonas, I’m not screwing around. I said get in the car, and if you don’t, the next thing you feel will be my hand on the back of your shirt and your ass will be on its way to prison. You have my word on it. I don’t have time to waste on losers. You want my help, you got it. But it comes with some rules: You do what I tell you to do and you stay out of trouble. I know you’re smart enough to know the difference between trouble and doing the right thing. Now let’s see if you got the guts to walk a straight path.”

  The words seemed to get through, and Jonas made his way to my car and got in the passenger side. I joined him and cruised the alley for a few more blocks, hoping to confuse anyone who might be watching.

  “Might as well tell you now there are some changes coming ahead.”

  “What kind of changes?” he asked in a sullen voice.

  “The kind that are going to keep your ass out of prison, that’s what kind.”

  “And how are you going to do that?” His head wagged with his words, and I knew he was mocking me.

  “You just proved to me you can’t be trusted. This neighborhood’s no good for you. You can’t control yourself, so I’m going to take you somewhere you got no choice but to keep yourself under control.”

  “And just where is that?”

  “You’ll see when we get there. We’re moving tonight.”

  “Like hell we are. I’ve got places to go and people I know.”

  “That’s the old Jonas. The new Jonas is going to stay out of prison and turn out to be something worth a damn. He is moving with me tonight and he’d better get that straight in his head.”

  “Or what?”

  “I don’t need to explain what you already know. Look, there’s nothing in this for me, except that you’re going to start working for your keep.”

  “The hell you mean?”

  “I mean you’re not going to sponge off of me anymore. We’re going to live in another state, in a small town, and you’re going to go to school every day, and after school you’re going to come home and find there’s chores to be done. You’ll do them without complaining, and if I have to tell you a second time, you’re going on probation. It’s going to be our own form of three strikes and you’re out, except for you, my boy, it’s going to be three strikes and you’re in… Joliet, that is.”

  Jonas rolled his eyes and looked out the window, giving me the cold shoulder. I knew he was formulating a new plan to get what he wanted, but we’d be moving fast enough he wouldn’t have a chance.

  Jonas and I packed up what few possessions we had and managed to stuff them in the car. The truck was full of my tools. We rolled through a drive-up window and scored some burgers and fries and then we were headed northeast. Although it was dark by this point, I could see him watching the landscape as we zipped along I-94. He’d never been out of the big city, so it was all new to him.

  “Where we going, anyway? Hooterville?”

  “Lesson one. You talk to me with respect. I don’t want to hear you cussing. Not one word, not even in private. You are going to change overnight. Forget the old life, Jonas, you’re getting a clean start, and believe me when I say that doesn’t happen very often in life.” That was enough to shut him up.

  At the edge of town, I found a motel with weekly rates. We’d start there and I’d keep my eye out for a house I could pick up for not too much. Then I’d make the improvements needed to turn it into a home. I’d do Lacy’s cottage first—and then it was my turn. I felt a whole lot more cheerful now that there was a plan in place.

  Chapter 5

  Lacy

  It felt good to stand and join in singing the hymn after the long sermon. The Reverend Peabody was probably at the end of his clerical career and sadly out of touch with his congregation. There was nothing in what he said that was relevant to my way of life. It felt as though I had done penance just by sitting through his sermon, but at least I was making an appearance in the community, which was important to my business.

  “Excuse me, dear,” came a woman’s voice behind me.

  I turned around to see a stout, well-dressed woman, probably in her late 60s. “Are you Lacy?”

  “Why yes, I am. I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met?”

  “Of course not,” she snapped. “Otherwise I wouldn’t be asking if you’re Lacy. My name is Mrs. Douglas Pettibone. Undoubtedly you’ve heard of me?”

  I had the distinct impression that my answer to her question would have a huge bearing on the success of my business. She just looked like the one woman in town who knew everyone and orchestrated life in general for each of them. “I’ve heard your name, certainly, Mrs. Pettibone, and I’ve been looking forward to the opportunity to meet you. May I ask, how did you learn my name?”

  “I make it my business to know everyone’s name, Miss Chatte. I know you are new to town and that you inherited your grandmother’s cottage on the lake. I also know that you have hired Melanie Curry as your assistant, and I understand that you are trying to begin an interior design firm. Is there anything I missed?”

  “No, ma’am, that pretty much sums it up. I’m glad to meet you, finally.”

  “Indeed. Anyone in town will tell you that you can’t get very far without my patronage.”

  I was thinking to myself how immensely conceited she was, but if the people in town actually did dance to her tune, it didn’t really matter what I thought of her personally.

  “I’d like you to come by for tea at four o’clock this afternoon. Anyone can tell you where I live. I will see you then.”

  She swirled away, her hips bouncing within the silk dress she wore as she led a mini procession down the aisle, stopping only long enough to shake Reverend Peabody’s hand before she left. A strong scent of her cologne remained behind. Like many women her age, she had attempted to cover the scent of an unwashed body with an abundant amount of perfume, and as always, it just made things worse. I was amazed that she thought she could order me to appear at her home instead of graciously extending an invitation and waiting for me to accept. Evidently that wasn’t how she operated, but once again, I was not in a position to disagree.

  Therefore, at exactly four o’clock, I presented myself at her door, having procured her address from one of the other ladies as I left the church. She lived in a very ornate Victorian house that seemed to suit her perfectly. A woman in a black dress with a white apron answered my ring at the doorbell. Evidently Mrs. Pettibone had a maid. I’d never met anyone who did, but then I’d never met anyone quite like Mrs. Pettibone.

  “My name is Lacy Chatte, and I’m here at the invitation of Mrs. Pettibone?” I told the woman in black.

  “Yes, she’s been expecting you. Please come in and let me show you through to the parlor.”

  I wondered whether I’d jumped backward a century. In truth, I loved it; the overly ornate furnishings were right up my alley. I’d always been fond of the Victorian era and its highly structured mores. Even though it might’ve been too strict for me, at least I would have known where I stood. As it was, I generally felt like I belonged in another universe.

  The old woman was waiting for me, piled onto a high-back wing chair that was covered with royal blue satin. Her chubby feet rested on a matching footstool, and she didn’t bother to rise and greet me as I entered the room.

  “Yes, Lacy, come over here and take the chair next to mine.”

  I did as I was told and found that the chair smelled musty. It seemed that Mrs. Pettibone had lived in this house a very long time. The furnishings were possibly even original.

  “Margaret, bring the tea now,” she said in an imperious tone.

  It was like crawling into a historical romance novel. The image made me giggle as I wondered whether she’d ordered Mr. Pettibone around in the same manner. If so, Mr. Pettibone had my sympathy.

  Margaret return shortly with a tea tray. She poured and handed us e
ach a cup on a matching saucer, along with a linen napkin. I waited for a cue from Mrs. Pettibone before taking the first sip.

  “Would you care for biscuits with that?” she asked, and I realized I was thinking saltine crackers while she was using the British term for cookies. As much as I could have gone for one right then, I shook my head politely and refused.

  “So, now, let’s talk about this business of yours,” she began. “What do you have to offer?”

  She was studying my face as I prepared to speak. I could tell she was trying to intimidate me, but I couldn’t let that happen. I was on my own, and I wanted to build the business based on my own merits. That said, Mrs. Pettibone’s influence could make the whole thing happen a lot faster.

  “Thank you for asking,” I began. “I’m a graduate of the Interior Design Institute in Chicago, and I’ve come to open an interior design business based on upcycling beautiful, high-quality antique furniture using a variety of techniques. I like to incorporate a few new pieces to freshen the feel, but otherwise it’s more like giving furniture a make-over.”

  She was sipping and nodding. Apparently, I was saying the right things.

  “So, I’m available for anything from staging a home for sale to an entire design project for a new or existing home. I will consider doing businesses, but I don’t think that’s where I shine.”

  “Well, at least you’re honest in your appraisal,” she said in an approving voice.

  “Mrs. Pettibone, let me keep being honest. In a small community such as this, it takes a while for a newcomer to fit in. If I were to have your sponsorship, it would speed up that acceptance tremendously. Now, that said, I wouldn’t want you to endorse me if you didn’t feel I deserved it. I wouldn’t do anything to compromise your reputation, of course.”

  “I understand, Lacy. You can rest assured that I wouldn’t sponsor you unless I felt comfortable doing so. I have no problem giving you that support, but in return I require that you maintain a stellar reputation. Your word is your bond, you will comport yourself in a professional and ethical manner, and you will keep me informed of any problems you encounter.”

  “Well, thank you. I appreciate that support.”

  “Do we understand one another?”

  “Yes, ma’am, I believe we do.”

  “Very well, then we’re done,” she said suddenly and set her cup down on the small table between us. “I will send over a list of potential clients first thing in the morning. Margaret will show you out,” she said unceremoniously, and on cue, Margaret appeared in the doorway. I knew my time was up, so I stood with as much grace as I could muster and got the heck out of there. Outside, I took a deep breath. Not only was I relieved, but it had been stifling in there and I was happy to be free.

  Chapter 6

  Riker

  Jonas and I pulled up in my truck and I motioned for him to carry the toolbox. “Head around to the back and stay out of the water. I’ll be down in a minute.” He was not at his happiest just then, but he did as I told him.

  I tapped on the door and was a little surprised when Melanie opened it. I guess I’d expected Lacy.

  “Hi, there,” Melanie cooed, blossoming like a flower facing the sun. “I didn’t know you were starting this soon.”

  “Yeah? Well, I am. FYI, the boy at the back is my helper. Where’s Lacy?”

  Melanie pouted. I think she was hoping for more attention. Too bad. She’d have to get it somewhere else. She shrugged and stepped a bit closer to me. “Mmmm… love your aftershave,” she commented, standing on tiptoe to smell my neck.

  “Melanie, don’t you have some work on the deck waiting for you?”

  Lacy had entered the room from her bedroom. She had a perturbed look on her face. I wondered why she was still putting up with Melanie. I was beginning to change my opinion of her a little—maybe she had a bigger heart than I’d given her credit for.

  Melanie frowned and wiggled excessively on her way out the door to the deck—not that she had a whole lot to wiggle. She shut it just a little louder than was necessary.

  “That ever get to you?” I asked Lacy.

  “What’s that?”

  “That horny little gal who just went out the door.”

  “Oh, Melanie… yeah, I know she’s not the ideal assistant, but she’s connected, which doesn’t hurt, and very young. She wants to be a designer, and when she finishes school, she’s coming back here to be my competition. I know what it’s like to be in her shoes, so I’m willing to give her some space.”

  “You’re more generous than I would be. But while we’re on the topic of assistants, I’ve got a young man with me as a helper. You’ll be seeing him around after hours and on weekends. He’s starting school here tomorrow.”

  “Oh? Your son?”

  I grinned. “You’ll know when you meet him. No, actually, I’m more like a big brother. He’s been in some minor trouble and I hope to straighten him out. He’s a good kid, and pretty bright. Just needs a new neighborhood.”

  She giggled. It was a cute sound that went straight to my groin. “Well, if that isn’t the pot calling the kettle black.”

  It was my turn to laugh. There was a knock on the door and I opened it to reveal Jonas. “Jonas, say hello to Miss Lacy.”

  Lacy’s face was flushed and her mouth shaped like an O. “Nice to meet you, Jonas.”

  Jonas looked at her but didn’t respond. Instead, he looked at me. “You comin’ or not?”

  I looked to Lacy. “See what I mean?”

  She nodded, understanding the nuances of what we’d just said. “I was wondering if you could work on the lower floor first since this is where customers will be coming?”

  I nodded. “Not a problem, but I need to see to some foundation issues first or you’re liable to have your lower floor wash out into the lake.”

  “Oh, geez, really? That sounds expensive!”

  “Some guys could make it be. Lucky for you, I’m not one of them.”

  “Them?”

  “The bad guys who would take advantage of you.”

  “Would I at least enjoy it?”

  Our conversations always seemed to end up filled with double entendres. Jonas was regarding us with a look of complete disgust. I wasn’t going to stop, though; this was too much fun.

  “I can think of several things you might enjoy,” I returned, and her eyes got big.

  “Always did want a bad boy,” she said in her best Mae West imitation.

  I chuckled and looked to the side and back at her. “You think so, huh? Well, I’m pretty good at fixing just about anything.”

  Jonas couldn’t take it any longer. “Okay, enough of this bullshit. Can somebody just tell me what to do next so I don’t have to watch?”

  I frowned at him. “You can begin by minding your manners. Then go to the truck and get the shovels. Carry them around back and start digging a trench twelve inches deep against the foundation wall.”

  “Whaaaat? Hell no, man. I ain’t doin’ that.”

  I frowned again. “Remember the strike three?”

  He hung his head, but I could see the defiance in his profile. “Go on now, do as I said. I need to check what we’re sitting on before we go any further.”

  “Check what she’s sitting on, more like,” he muttered in a disgusted tone as he headed for the door.

  “Hang on there. Aren’t you forgetting something?”

  He looked at me blankly. I knew he knew what I was talking about, though, so I just stared back. He blinked first. “Okay. Miss Lacy, pardon the cussing.”

  She nodded, declining to enter into the argument.

  “That’s almost better, but you’ll improve even more with practice, I’m sure,” I told him, jerking my thumb toward the door to get him started. Jonas left, and soon there was a great deal of unnecessary noise coming from my truck.

  I looked back to Lacy. “Okay. I guess I’d better get started.” I winked, and to my surprise, she winked back.

  “Loo
ks like you already have,” she said, dropping her eyes to my groin. I turned and left to hide my growing hard-on. I’m in trouble, I thought to myself.

  I cuffed Jonas gently on the back of the head when I caught up to him. “Listen to me, big man. This is my business we’re talking about. I told you, don’t be cussing, and most especially not in front of my customers, and most most especially if it’s a woman. You got that?”

  “Yeah, I got that. Is this all we’ll do from now on? Dig in the sand?”

  “It might just be if you don’t improve your attitude. Now get busy and mind your own business.”

  I picked up on her energy rather than hearing her approach from the back. I turned to see Lacy standing in a pair of jeans and a pink blouse that was tied up around her waist. It was unbuttoned down into her cleavage, and it was a sight for sore eyes. It didn’t help my hard-on to see her like that.

  “Something you need?” I said the words and they sounded like Kermit the frog. I tried again. “Was there something you needed?”

  “No, not especially. I just came down to see what you were doing. I don’t know much about construction, but in my business it would be a good idea if I learned a little. For example, it never occurred to me that there might be a problem with my foundation.”

  I looked her over slowly from top to bottom and said, “I don’t think I’ll find anything wrong with your foundation.”