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An errant thought strayed to the forefront of my brain. Kid’s gonna be a looker, between the two of us. Now that was a truth no one could deny: that Elizabeth and I would make some damn pretty babies. But that was about where the advantages to this situation ended: right at the threshold between where the fortunate circumstances of inheriting my genetic material ended, and having me as a parent began.
“Christ,” I muttered, “a dad? This poor fuckin’ kid…”
And yet the more I imagined myself in a world where I played peek-a-boo and changed nappies, the more I wondered why I couldn’t make that a reality. So maybe this girl and I hardly knew one another—as a matter of fact, before a few hours ago, I hadn’t even known what she looked like. But something about knowing that I was responsible for what was growing inside of her—of placing the burden of carrying around another body inside of hers for roughly nine months squarely on her shoulders—made me think of someone other than myself for a change. It made me think of what the hell I could possibly do to make life easier on the both of them. After all, this was going to be my kid, too.
Taking responsibility for something, I thought. Well, that’s new for me. In fact, this might be a first. All my life, I’d run from responsibility—from my actions and the consequences thereof—but no matter how hard I tried, something inside of me couldn’t shake the urge to do something for this girl—and by extension, for my child.
More than my dad ever did, I thought, bile rising in my throat at the thought of that mean bastard. I won’t let that happen. Not to my kid.
But was that really a promise I was going to be able to keep? After all, I didn’t have the best track record when it came to reliability—but then again, just how hard could parenthood really be? All I had to do was not fuck up. Right? Seemed fairly straightforward: be nothing like my parents. Done and done.
The sound of my phone buzzing on the nightstand nearly made me jump out of my skin. I reached over and grabbed it off the table, squinting through the radiant glow of the screen to see who the hell was calling me at such an ungodly hour—or, as most people called it, half past two. In the afternoon.
“Of course,” I sighed once I was able to discern it was Tessa calling me. For a moment I debated whether or not I should bother answering, but I knew full well that if I didn’t, she’d just call back a thousand times more. And if that didn’t work for her, she’d just waltz right into my damn room like she owned the place. With a sigh, I accepted the call and put my phone to my ear.
“City morgue,” I said, trying to sound as cheerful and American as possible. “You bag ‘em, we tag ‘em! My name is 8-Ball, what can I do ya for?”
“You’re a bloody child,” Tessa muttered. “And what you can do for me is grow up a little. You have work to do making sure this plan of ours goes off without a hitch!”
Though she couldn’t see me, I cocked my head. “Funny, that, considering that to my knowledge, this was all your idea—or at least it was back when it looked like it might pan out. Now that there’s complications to be had, suddenly it’s a joint venture?” I chuckled darkly. “No thanks, love. You can keep full custody of this one.”
I immediately regretted my choice of words. They sounded harsh, even to my ears, and I had the benefit of knowing what I’d meant. To Tessa, they must have sounded deplorable. And they left the door wide open for her to take a jab.
“Let me put it to you this way, Julian,” she began in that slow, hissing tone that told me she knew exactly what kind of opening I’d left her. “Either you get her on board with this plan—our plan—or I just go ahead and cancel these shows I have lined up over the next few months for you. The ones that booked you after seeing you on the news. How’s that for a custody agreement?”
I felt my stomach tighten, heat rising up the back of my neck. Despite how much I wanted to tell her to go fuck herself, Tessa had one hell of a power play at her disposal. If I wasn’t making any money, how could I hope to be part of my kid’s life? Or possibly even Elizabeth’s? Kids cost a hell of a lot these days. I needed to be doing everything in my power to ensure he or she had a head start on a great life.
“Why can’t we just leave this girl alone, Tessa?” I asked, rubbing my face in frustration. “She seems the decent sort. A little crabby, but who wouldn’t be, in her shoes? She doesn’t deserve this.”
“Deserve what? Being in the spotlight? Being a celebrity?” Tessa sucked her teeth. “Get real, Julian. Everyone wants to be famous—even her.”
“It isn’t just her anymore, Tessa,” I reminded her. God, I couldn’t believe how she’d changed. The two of us had been together a long time, and this wasn’t the Tessa I’d met when I was just starting my career. “She’s got my bloody kid inside of her.”
I could practically hear her roll her eyes. “Please. Even if she does—and you still don’t have any proof that she’s telling you the truth—since when have you ever cared about some bastard you may or may not have made?”
“Maybe since this one’s actually mine?” I shot back. “Or it could be. Look, I don’t know for sure. None of us do. But if Elizabeth had wanted something from me, wouldn’t she have gone to the press with all this?” As far as I could tell when I’d visited her, she’d wanted nothing to do with being in the public eye whatsoever.
“How do you know she didn’t?” Tessa queried. “How do you know this isn’t just part of some elaborate scheme of hers? Maybe the past few weeks, she’s been working on her image—scrubbing social media of any evidence of wrongdoing, cleaning up her act, polishing herself for the cameras. Stranger things have happened, Jules. You’ve no idea how insanely manipulative people can be.”
“I rather think I do,” I muttered. “And anyway… even if I can’t prove that’s not what’s going on here, I somehow feel it. Elizabeth isn’t that kind of girl, Tess. I just… know.”
I knew it wasn’t the most compelling argument, but my gut was telling me Elizabeth wasn’t out to get me. She wasn’t trying to use me or cause me harm like so many others had. Enough people had hurt me that I should have been able to recognize it clearly by now, and Elizabeth didn’t even register on my radar.
Abused kids, they have this sense about them, I think—even as adults. It never quite leaves you. Without even trying, you pick up on the small things—body language, micro-expressions, tone of voice, or whatever else—and then you just… know.
And where Elizabeth was concerned, I just knew.
It wasn’t an explanation Tessa would accept. But this wasn’t her life. It was mine. No matter what she might believe to the contrary.
“Well, then,” she said testily. “If you’re so damned determined to play house here, then you had better get this little tart on board, hadn’t you? Otherwise, you’re probably never going to see that kid again for as long as you bloody live. You patch things up, and I’ll spend the next few days letting the press know you’ve been involved in a deep and loving relationship with this girl. Don’t scre
w this up Julian!”
The line went dead, and suddenly I was alone again with my thoughts—which was exactly the thing I’d been avoiding for over a decade. I sighed and put the bottle of liquor back to my lips, feeling the hot burn of it scorching my throat as I tried once again to reach that sweet oblivion that was unconsciousness.
This poor girl didn’t bloody deserve any of this… but if everything Tessa had said went according to plan, then wouldn’t she end up coming out the other side better off for all of her trouble? She was young enough to be stuck paying off her debts from college, and getting a divorce settlement and child support would set her and our kid up for the rest of their lives. I was doing them a favor.
I took another long pull from the bottle, closing my eyes as I rested back on the hotel bed, embracing the warm glow radiating through me as I began to let the ebb and flow take me away into sleep. Whatever Tessa was planning could wait until tomorrow.
As I drifted off, a different feeling started rising up from deep within me. It was a familiar feeling. A need that couldn’t be written off or hidden away. I couldn’t get Elizabeth’s face out of my mind. Every curve of her body played out in lurid detail with my imaginary fingers tracing delicate lines across her skin.
These were memories of our night together. As dreams of Elizabeth washed over me, I found myself lost in her beautiful eyes… and I could see one emotion above all others as plain as day.
Desire.
I can work with desire…
Elizabeth
What the hell am I going to do? I wondered, feeling almost as hopeless as I was yesterday.
In situations like this, a girl like me might have been able to get some loving advice from her mother. But since I’d made sure not to give my mother my cell phone number, that was totally out of the question. The last thing I needed was a lecture on how good of a mom she’d been and how much I’d ruined her life. No thank you.
