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"I'm marking my calendar now. I'll call my chef guy and have him do the catering. I have a decorating guy, too. He'll do the flowers and shit like that. If you guys want, you should fly down for a weekend and we can iron it all out. In fact, why don't we make a plan now? When can you two get away and come out here?"
"I'll talk to Ella and get back to you."
"Good," David said. "This will keep my mind busy. You know I love any chance to have people here. Are you calling the brothers or should I?"
"No, that's okay. I'll call them and ask them to be there."
"Great," he said, and I was happy that he seemed so genuinely pleased about hosting the wedding. We talked a few moments longer about nothing in particular and then said goodbye. I hung up and checked the time. I had an early meeting that day and hadn't got my bike ride in, so I decided to take time mid-afternoon to go for a ride. The weather was good, and it was still sunny, and the streets were pretty clear of snow, so it was perfect timing.
I changed into my riding clothes and grabbed my bike, taking it downstairs. When I got to the street and climbed onto it, I adjusted my helmet and it was then I saw Mr. Fedora across the street once more. I exhaled in anger and decided to confront the man myself.
I rode across the street at the crosswalk and stopped in front of him, still on the bike. He glanced up from his paper and I caught a smile on his face.
"I know who you are and who you're working for," I said, unable to keep anger out of my voice.
"But you don't know why," he replied, grinning.
"I would if you told me."
He glanced left and right, and then stepped closer. "You should ask Ms. Conroy."
Then he folded his paper and walked away.
I followed him, riding beside him on my bike. "Who the hell is Ms. Conroy?"
"You don't remember the names of your sex partners? Alicia Conroy, twenty-four, daughter of James Conroy. Of Brentford, Wallace and Conroy?"
Then the name did ring a bell and I had an image of a blonde young woman with big tits who had charmed the pants off me months ago after a drunken night in a bar. It was the month before I met Ella.
Crap...
There could be only one reason her father, a partner with the law firm who hired McPherson, was interested in me.
"Don't tell me," I said and held up a hand. "She's--."
"She's pregnant. And she's pretty sure you're her baby-daddy." McPherson smiled widely.
"We had sex twice," I said, a sense of dread filling me. "She told me she was on the pill. I used a condom for protection -- both times. There's no way she's pregnant with my child."
"You sure about that?"
"I'm pretty sure I tested the condoms after and they were intact, so I don't know how she could get pregnant."
"She said you were both really drunk and that there might have been contact before you put on the condom."
I tried to remember that night, but it was pretty fuzzy, and we were both quite drunk. I do remember us being naked and rolling around in the bed before we fucked. There was a lot of oral play before and then we got down to business. I did use a condom. Both times.
"I used a condom."
"Regardless of what you think, she is pregnant and she says you're the only man she slept with during that cycle, so it's either the immaculate conception or somehow your jizz got inside of her before you put the condom on. My client wants you to do a paternity test."
"Fine," I said and shrugged. "You could have asked me. I'd be happy to comply, because I know I'm not the father. Why didn't you just ask weeks ago when I first saw you hanging around my office building?"
"My client wanted to know what kind of man you were just in case you are the father of his daughter's child."
I sighed. "Look, I'm one hundred percent certain that I'm not the father. I'll do the paternity test -- whatever you need. Tell me where to go and what to do. I'm engaged to be married and I want this cleared up as soon as possible."
"Good," McPherson said and reached into his jacket pocket. "Here's the court order for a test. This will prove one way or the other if you're the father." He handed me an envelope containing what I expected was a court order for a paternity test.
