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Ah, great. Talking about sex with my mom and Alba. Yeah, that's not completely uncomfortable already. As if my day could get any worse.
“Even if I did – sleep with a woman under this arrangement,” I said. “there are no guarantee she'd get pregnant. Not for a while at least, and we don't have time.”
“There are ways to push the process along, Malcolm,” Mom said, her smile widening.
When it was clear I wasn't getting it, she added, “Crane Enterprises is a pharmaceutical company, and I have connections,” she said, looking at me like I was dense. “I'm sure we could get ahold of fertility drugs. You find a willing woman, I'll handle getting the drugs. Under the table, of course.”
“Is that safe?” I asked.
Mom shrugged. “More than likely, yes,” she said. “Make sure you pick a healthy woman to bear your children, Malcolm, and everything else will be just fine. You'll see, it will all just start falling into place.”
Alba smiled and nodded. She seemed to be in on this. Both my mother and the housekeeper who was like a second mom to me were okay with me finding a random woman and paying to have sex with her. What the hell was happening to my life?
“If I'm being honest, I'm not sure I can do this,” I said.
“What choice do you have, Malcolm?” Mom said. “You know your brother and how conniving he is. If we don't think of something – he will.”
Alba nodded her head in agreement enthusiastically. “This company belongs to you, Malcolm. Not Adam. Not anyone else. You,” she said. “You are the one who's put in all the hard work ever since you were a child. Do not let this man come in and steal it from you.”
They had a point. It gave me a lot to think about, that was for sure. I stared down at my hands and thought it over. Neither woman moved or spoke as I tried to think my way through it all. I mean, it wasn't much different than what I'd considered the other night – with Casey – but I backed out because it felt dirty and because I doubted she'd find the idea very enticing.
Both my mom and Alba seemed to think I was wrong, and well, they certainly knew women better than I did.
“I'll think about it.”
“Don't think about it too long,” Mom said. “The clock is ticking.”
Geez, thanks Mom. Like I needed any more pressure right now.
She was right though; the clock was ticking. If I closed my eyes and strained my ears, I could almost hear the faint tick-tock, echoing like a whisper in the back of my mind.
Time was running short. Very, very short. If I wanted to save my father's company and keep it out of the hands of somebody like Adam, I had to get on the ball. Sooner, rather than later.
CHAPTER SIX
CASEY
Living in Los Angeles is something people all over the world dream about; the beaches, the glitz, the glamour, the lifestyle. All these things were all a lie though.
Sure, some people got to live in Beverly Hills or Bel-Air – well away from the true reality of day to day life in the City of Angels. The wealthy elite got to enjoy their brunches and shopping trips on Rodeo Drive.
Others, like my family though, were scraping and clawing to survive. Given the chance, I would have left town in a heartbeat. But, being born and raised in Southern California – and with my family stuck here – it made the idea of packing up and getting out incredibly hard.
Impossible, actually.
For the present, and the foreseeable future, I was stuck in a small, cramped, shitty two-bedroom apartment in Echo Park. It wasn't exactly the glamorous part of Los Angeles. It definitely wasn't the idealized image of LA people have in their minds. There's no glitz or glam to be found in Echo Park.
But then, not even Hollywood was really what tourists expected it to be. Tinsel Town was dirty, filled with broken dreams, and the wreckage of ruined lives. The homeless and addicted littered the streets, and you didn't want to be caught in Hollywood at night – not unless you knew where you were going and could get there quickly.
Hollywood was where most dreams came to die. Or maybe, I was just being cynical.
My sixteen-year-old sister, Sierra, was at the kitchen table doing homework when I woke up that afternoon. When I glanced at the clock, I knew my fourteen-year-old brother, Nick, was at basketball practice. I always knew where they were and had their schedules down cold.
“How's Mr. Peabody doing? Is he still teaching biology?” I asked Sierra.
I stood there, staring into a empty fridge. Shopping didn't get done, go figure. My stomach growled, and eventually I made some toast. There was no jelly, since we were out. Of course. Margarine was all we had. Great. I sighed and dropped a couple slices of bread into the toaster.
“Yeah, he's still a hardass,” she said, taking her headphones off.
