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His long awkward silence gave me the answer, but he said, no, anyway. “But that’s not why I’m calling. Our place was clean as a kindergarten bake sale when Beck’s feds came in, flashing their badges and guns. They didn’t find a dancer under twenty-five years of age.”
I snorted. “You brought out the old ladies. What about the college girls? They all legit?”
“Yes, they are. Twenty-one and up. I checked them out myself. Ellison’s spot on this time.”
“So Beck didn’t show up herself?”
“Nope,” Thomas said with a chuckle. “I guess she wanted it to seem like a regular raid, not harassment. You’ll have to see if she brings it up.”
”Will do.” I cut off the call and walked into the shower a happy man for a change. Fat chance Beck would mention that she’d been bested by Lucky Lopez’s close attention to federal laws.
Chapter Twenty
Mo
“The nausea is normal, Maureen. Perfectly normal.” The doctor’s kind smile did nothing to ease my worries. “You’re nearly sixteen weeks, so it should get better, if not disappear altogether. If it worsens, come back.”
I nodded, happy to hear that everything was normal as far as pregnancies went. “And the baby is okay?”
He nodded. “Growing exactly as expected. Your baby’s development is where it should be. On your next visit, we might get to find out the gender if the little one cooperates.” He pointed to the screen where the little ball was faced away from us.
“Sounds good.” It hardly seemed soon enough to know if I was having a boy or a girl. How was the pregnancy moving along so fast?
“I take it that means you’ve decided to continue the pregnancy?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“You don’t sound sure.”
“I am sure. Absolutely.” I always wanted a child but I always thought I’d find a decent man first, one who wanted me, who thought I was great enough to marry, not just fuck.
“Plans never work out how you think, Doctor. I’m surprised and scrambling to catch up, but I’m sure.”
“That’s good news. I’m happy for you, Maureen.”
“Thanks.” I was happy for me, too, and it didn’t matter if Jasper believed me or if he was happy about it. I could support a child on my own, raise it on my own. It wasn’t how I pictured it, but few things in life were.
After leaving the doctor’s office, I sent a quick text to let Jasper know I wouldn’t be coming in today. I needed to take some time for myself, time to tend to my health and well-being. I needed some me-time and some distance from Jasper, which is why I didn’t call Hulu to let him know my schedule for the day.
I ran errands and let my thoughts race, my mind wander while I did mundane tasks that no one was immune from. Might as well get used to it, I told myself as I filled a shopping cart with groceries. A mother couldn’t order food out every night and set a good example, could she?
After I paid at the check-out counter–memo to self, save your overtime for feeding your baby–I refilled my prenatal prescription at the pharmacy and picked up something the doctor promised would help with the nausea. Suddenly, I felt like those soccer moms I saw in the burbs of Vegas and all around Glitz, looking fabulous and running errands.
Yes! I can do this!
If I wasn’t dead on my feet, I might have stopped at Versace for another little black dress because let’s face it, a girl could never have too many LBD’s, even if I wouldn’t be able to wear it for a while. But Versace would have to wait, at least until after I had a nap.
Was the parking lot always this big? I grew more tired with every step, and the Emerald Isle entrance seemed to get farther away, my condo on the top floor almost out of reach. Maybe it was the small act of carrying groceries, something I rarely did because every store in town delivered. Maybe it was the weight of this pregnancy and my future, or maybe it was the lack of sleep, but the slog to get home seemed like a climb to the top of Mt. Everest.
“Hey! Yo!”
I was definitely exhausted because I never turned when men hollered vaguely at me. It was asking for trouble. Still, too tired to resist, I turned without thinking and was greeted with a big meaty fist flying at my face at one hundred miles per hour. All at once, the groceries fell to the ground, and my knees buckled at the force of the hit or the pain, I didn’t know.
“Son of a bitch!” My cheek stung, and I was pretty sure the skin had split open.
“You work at Midnight Mass, bitch?”
I nodded and tried to look up to see what piece of shit had the audacity to attack me in broad daylight, but my left eye was already starting to swell, and blood was spilling down my cheek.
