“Okay, fine. Don’t color my hair. I’ll get the cut and the blow out,” I say and watch her drop the test back in the drawer. I have a moment of regret where I think I should have just taken it, but I can’t do it.
Noé walks in with the mimosa on a small silver tray he’s carrying like it’s a tray of crown jewels.
“Good Lord, did you grow the oranges yourself?” she asks.
“So sorry, I had to run out to Randall’s to get the oranges. We were out,” he says and he drops the mimosa down in front of me. I pick it up and start to take a sip and my stomach grumbles. And I know I’m not pregnant. But I put it down because if I am, it would be very irresponsible to drink it without having proof. The thought of a baby—Hayes’s baby—inside of me makes me dizzy. But, at the trailing tip of the whirlwind of disbelief, panic, worry, doubt, and surprise is a bolt of joy.
Hayes.
His baby. I close my eyes and see a bundle with silky chocolate curls and glittering topaz hazel eyes.
“Come, let’s go back to the bowl,” she says and starts to stand me up.
“I’ve changed my mind,” I say before I can talk myself out of it. “I want to take it,” I say and stick my hand out.
“Okay, here you go,” she says and then points me in the direction of the bathroom.
DISTRACTED
HAYES
“Hayes, good morning,” Amelia’s graver than-normal voice makes me wish I had ignored her call. I finish tying the laces of my sneakers and sit down on the bed.
“Your voice makes me think there’s nothing good about this particular Saturday morning, so let’s just cut straight to the chase,” I tell her.
“Your uncle and stepmother are mounting a petition to have you ousted as chairman of the board,” she says.
“You’re kidding,” I say and drop my forehead into my hand. That rat faced motherfucker. I’ve been treating him with kid gloves. But they’re about to come off.
“Hayes?” Amelia calls my name when I don’t say anything more.
“Can they do it?” I ask.
“Well, yes. Clearly, because they have,” she says.
“No, I mean, is there a way to remove me? I thought it was a position I held until death,” I said.
“Normally, that is the case. But there’s a clause for removal if you are unfit to hold the role. That is the clause they have evoked,” she says.
“Unfit?” I breathe into the phone in complete indignation. “In what way? By what measure?” I demand.
“By reason of illegitimacy,” she says slowly. Meaningfully.
“Illegitimacy?” I ask.
“Yes. Hayes. They’re demanding a DNA test and I would suggest you comply without any protest.”
“I don’t understand,” I say. “A DNA test for what? That would only help them if I wasn’t my father’s son,” I say angrily.
Amelia is silent.
“Are they implying I’m not my father’s son?” I demand an answer, but my throat is dry and my heart is beating faster now.
“That’s exactly what they’re implying,” she says.
“Based on what?”
“Based on what they say is a discrepancy between your mother’s medical records and death certificate. I don’t know what that means, do you?” she asks pointedly.
“Of course not. That’s ridiculous. I’ll take the DNA test today. Shut this shit down now and then I’m done playing nice with him,” I say.
“Okay. You can be done playing nice with him. But Hayes, is there any way at all, that the paternity test could come back anything other than what you expect? This is an extraordinary move they’ve made. If it’s a Hail Mary, it’s a hell of a gamble.”
“I have a birth certificate with my parents’ names on it. I have the same blood type. I look just like my father and my grandfather. This is ridiculous. It’s an attempt to embarrass me. Send me the details on when and where I can take the test. The sooner the better and I want those results expedited.” I glance down at my watch. I’m late meeting Confidence, and I almost want to text her and ask her to meet me back at her place, but I’m not going to let this asshole ruin more than he’s already tried to.
“I’ll send you the court order. I advise you go to a random lab instead of your doctor for the test. Just to avoid any questions about tampering or manipulation of their process.”
“Fine. I’ll be looking for it. I’ve gotta go,” I say before I hang up.
I should have thanked her. That couldn’t have been an easy call to make. My mind is reeling. My uncle must really hate me to have done this. A paternity test. It’s ridiculous.
And yet … my mind is not easy. I have a kernel of dread in my gut that I will ignore until I don’t have to. But it’s burrowed itself into the lining of my life; its sharp, thorn-like tip burns as it embeds itself into the story of my life. And with every step I take, it burrows deeper and it feeds on years of being denied my rightful place at the head of this family. I’ve been too soft. I’ve been distracted by my feelings. I feel a wash of shame. I’ve had my eye off the ball trying to win Confidence back. I should have seen this coming. I let a woman pull me off course once, and I lost pieces of my legacy that my father scarified for. And I’m letting it happen again.
“But, she’s not just a woman,” my better angels remind me. I ignore them. I can’t let this happen again.
I rush out the door, already late to meet Confidence but slowing my steps because I’m not ready for what I need to do. When I think of what my uncle’s shit is about to cost me … the kernel in my gut pops and the blooms are soaked in shock, resentment, and rage.
CONFIDENCE
* * *
I glance at my phone for the third time. Hayes is never late. But, it’s Saturday. I was a little nebulous about the time, he just erred on the other side of eleven o’clock. I turn around and look at my hair again. She didn’t do a permanent color, but she rinsed it with a golden blonde that makes it look like spun gold in the light. She cut it so it skims my shoulders. I feel naked and cold. But my face looks more … I don’t know … visible.
I’m pregnant.
I stare at my reflection and try to see how I’m different. I must be different. Right?
Hayes and I blended our cells together to create a miracle. I think I’m in love already and all I’ve seen is a blue line. Hayes’s DNA has coalesced with mine. That little amalgamation of us has burrowed into my womb and will take from me, blood and marrow. Teeth and bone. And a life will grow from it. I’m falling in love at the speed of light with a blue line. I do what I have been too afraid to since I took four pregnancy tests in the bathroom of Blush. I laugh.
I want to wait and get a blood test before I tell Hayes, but I’m not sure that I can. There’s not a single solitary cell in my body that expects him to be anything less than jubilant when I tell him. We are in such a good place. The litigation with Kingdom is moving along, but so are his side-by-side efforts to help alleviate the suffering of his tenants while they’re in legal limbo. I’ve watched him write checks from his personal account this week that, no matter how much money he has, must have stung a little. But he’s smiled every time he’s paid for something that makes their lives easier. And he’s doing it all anonymously. He doesn’t want the attention, and he doesn’t want to cause any friction with Kingdom’s board. It has just been one more thing about this man who makes me feel like he would move mountains to be with me. I feel the same way.
I can’t wait to tell him what we’ve done together.
“Well, look what we have here,” a voice from beside me calls, and my blood freezes in my veins. I turn my head slowly and take in the tall, dark blond, handsome man whose beautiful smile hides a black, devious heart.
“Barry,” I say flatly and curl my lip in disgust.
“Confidence,” he drawls like he’s making a joke.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
“It’s a public place. Or did you have the entire town black
list me?” He glowers at me.
“I didn’t have anyone do anything. You running around ranting about feminazis and conspiracies did that.”
“That mouth of yours is only good for one thing. And talking isn’t it,” he says.
I roll my eyes at him. “Was that supposed to offend me? Make me cry? Make me care?” I ask with contempt and malice and disgust. “You’re pathetic,” I spit at him.
His expression loses any pretense of charm, and he pushes himself off the window he was leaning on and walks over to me, clearly thinking he can intimidate me.
“You didn’t think I was pathetic when you worked for me,” he says.
“No, I didn’t. But I was also clearly suffering from a clear case of extreme slumming. I’m all better now and I see you for exactly what you are,” I say with a smile. I turn and start down the narrow alley that runs between Blush and Twist. I stop as soon as I realize I’m walking away from people. Away from the light and out of sight. I can hear him rushing to catch up with me. It takes everything I have to not run. I try to reach into my purse for my phone so I can call Hayes, or 9-1-1. But, my hands are trembling.
I smell it on him like I did my Dad. He’s in the mood to hurt someone, and I just walked down a fucking alley. His hand closes on my arm and spins me around to face him.
“Let me go, Barry!” I yell, and he hustles me farther down the alley.
“I’m just getting started.” He leans forward and puts his face in mine. “And maybe if you ask nicely, once he’s done with you, I’d be willing to give you a—” My hand flies out and up before I can stop to think. The crack of my palm against his cheek and the burst of white-hot pain at the contact make me feel like I detonated a bomb.
He grabs my wrist with one hand and my chin with the other. “You fucking bitch,” he grinds out into my ear. He presses his body into the back of mine and I hate myself for the sob that escapes me when his erection presses into my back. He presses his lips to my ear and whispers, “You’re lucky you’ve got that body. Why don’t you show me what you showed Wilde and Rivers that’s got them so hot and bothered over you?” He grinds into me, and I scream. Loudly enough that it bounces off the dark, stone walls. He covers my mouth with his hand, but not before I can bare my teeth and bite down on his palm. I almost gag at the musty, salty taste of his skin in my mouth. But it does the trick. He lets go and I break into a run. I only get two feet before he’s got me back in his iron tight grip.
The skin on my arm burns as he struggles to hold onto me. I kick him and scream, at the top of my lungs, “Hayes!” before his hand is back over my mouth and his hot breath all over my face. “You think he’ll care what happens to you?” He throws me against the wall and steps between my legs. “I’m going to fuck that cockiness right out of you,” he says and starts unbuckling his pants.
And I start fighting for my life. His hand is still pressed to my face, and now he’s pressing so hard that I can’t open my mouth to bite him or breathe.
I kick, punch, fight, slap. I might as well be fighting an eight-foot wave. He completely overwhelms me. I close my eyes and wail in my throat and beg God to make it stop. I feel his penis, hard and heavy, pressing against the bare skin of my inner thigh, and I think about Hayes and my baby and I want to die. I sob helplessly into his hand and hope he kills me when he’s done. I left Arkansas to escape violent men, and he’s managed to find me anyway.
A loud roar comes out of nowhere and cuts through the ringing in my head and then, I’m falling. His body is yanked free of mine, and I land with a thud on my ass, and look over to see Hayes on top of Barry. His fists are flying and making contacting with sickening thuds and crunches of skin and bone. “You motherfucking piece of shit!” he yells in between his arm’s wild swings.
I run to him, to try and make him stop. I’m afraid he’ll kill him. But he’s in a rage and doesn’t hear me. I run back to the top of the alley and scream for help at the top of my lungs before the tsunami of emotions overwhelms me and I faint.
HELPLESS
HAYES
“I wanted to talk to you before you went out there. Confidence is waiting,” Amelia says.
“What is it?” I ask and finish buttoning my shirt. I’m being released from the courthouse jail where I’ve spent most of the day.
She sighs and leans back against the wall. “Well, I have good news and bad news. What do you want first?” she asks.
“The good, please,” I say. “Maybe the sun will explode as soon as you’re done with the good news, killing us all in the process. And you’ll never get a chance to tell me the bad news.”
“Are you drunk?” she asks after a beat of silence.
“I’ve been in jail. The only thing I’ve had to get drunk on is the clusterfuck juice of my life. Give me the good news first,” I repeat.
“The DA isn’t pressing charges against you.”
“I wish he would,” I snap.
“Hayes, that is your anger talking,” she says like I’m being tedious.
“I want as many opportunities to tell the world what a piece of shit Barry Jimenez is. And if standing trial for defending my woman would give me just one more chance to tell everyone, I’d do it.”
“A trial would be a disaster for you right now. All of the rebuilding of the Rivers name will go down the drain,” she minds me.
“I don’t care,” I say.
“You should,” she snaps. “Here’s the bad news. Your uncle has petitioned the board for your removal, without regard for the DNA results,” she says.
“The fuck he did!” I shout and spin around to face her. “What? How? Can they do that?” I ask in alarm.
“Yes. They can. There’s a clause added by your grandfather about thirty years ago that gives them the right to do this.”
“What does it say? This clause?”
“In the event that the actions of the chairman materially damage the social standing of the organization or cause a negative light to be cast on the family’s reputation that their ability to lead the board could be questioned or challenged. Your uncle and stepmother are doing that.”
“Is this about that asshole who attacked my girlfriend?” I ask angrily.
“This is about you having to be pulled off him after breaking his ribs, his nose, and knocking out one of his teeth,” she explains.
“Well, the DA hasn’t pressed charges,” I say.
“But Mr. Jimenez is suing you civilly, Hayes. For a lot of money,” she says.
“I don’t really give a shit about the money. You think I was going to stand there, watch him put his hands on my woman, try to rape her, and just kindly ask him to stop? You’re out of your mind, and he’s lucky I didn’t fucking kill him. If I ever see his ass again, I might,” I tell her.
“Don’t say that out loud. Because if he ends up dead, whether he had a heart attack or died in a plane crash, you won’t be able to stop the rumor from suggesting you had something to do with it. You have extraordinary power. Access to an almost limitless amount of money. It wouldn’t be far-fetched to think you’d dispose of an enemy and try to make it look like natural causes. So, do not talk like that to anyone,” she says.
“Fuck that motherfucker and the law that allows him to turn himself into the victim here,” I spit out.
“Well, now he’s cooperating with your uncle. And they are coming for you hard. I’m going to file for a temporary restraining order on the action to remove you. I don’t expect it will be granted, but at the very least it will force them to present whatever evidence they have against you in their little coup d’état. That is what this is. It is whole out war. They want you gone, and they’ll do it by any means necessary,” she says.
“I think you’re overreacting. They want money, not my life,” I brush her off.
“Don’t dismiss it. It’s not just money. It’s control of the entire Rivers family line and future. They want it. I want you to keep your head down. And you’re going to like what I have to say next
even less,” she says.
“That is a very high bar you just set. What could be worse?”
“I want you to put some distance between you and Confidence,” she says.
“Fuck. No,” I say immediately. I feel a flush of guilt when I remember that I had even considered the same thing myself. I close my eyes to push down the rage that threatens to consume me when I remember the scene I walked in on. Her against the wall. Him between her legs. Hurting her. My stomach roils.
“No way. Are you kidding? You want me to stay away from my woman so that punk ass uncle of mine can have what he wants? No fucking way,” I say.
“No, I want you to stay away from her, so he can’t use her to get to you. He knows she matters to you, and that makes her a target. Make him think you’ve broken up. Just until it goes away. The petition he filed has rules. I’m filing the TRO today. It’ll be denied. We’ll have seven days to respond. Just think about it,” she urges me in that intense whisper she does when she’s trying to be persuasive. But I don’t need persuading.
“I’m sick of this, and I’m ready for it to be over,” I tell her.
“Good. We’re going to need to spend all week getting our response together. Now, the DNA results will come back before then, and depending on their outcome—”
“Why do I get the impression, Amelia, that you’re worried about the results?” I cut her off.
She stares at the floor. Her silence is alarming.
I press her.
“Tell me. Now,” I say. “What do you know?”
“Nothing, Hayes. I don’t know anything. But I’m worried because Swish told me something before he died—right before he died.”
“What?”
“He said, ‘Hayes is his …’ and that was all. I don’t know what ‘his’ meant. I didn’t even make anything of it because he was so close to the end, and he’d been in an out of consciousness for two days. I have always thought they were the words of his dying mind. Until …”
The Rivals Page 29