by Sarah Bale
I grab a water bottle and chug it, hoping it will settle my stomach. Only now, I’m feeling queasy and full of water. Bile creeps up my throat and I actually moan a little. What in the hell is wrong with me?
Foxy, who’s still in the kitchen, asks, “You okay?”
“Yeah. Just a little under the weather today.”
“I have a test if you need one.”
“A test?”
“A pregnancy test.” She gives me a sad smile. “I was pregnant once and felt the same way every time I smelled eggs. Ended up losing the baby, but I’ll never forget that morning sickness.”
“There’s no way I’m pregnant. I’m on the pill.”
I don’t know if I’m trying to convince her or me. There’s no way I’m pregnant!
“Do you take it every day, at the same time?”
“Of course I do.”
“Have you taken antibiotics recently? They can mess with the pill. That’s what happened to me.”
“No, I haven’t-” The words die on my lips.
Oh. Fuck.
She smiles. “Want me to go grab it and meet you in your room?”
Saint and King should be at the shop by now, so it’s the perfect time. I’ll take the test, and when it comes back negative, I’ll make an appointment with my doctor to see what’s going on. I’m sure it’s just stress that’s making me sick. Or maybe even the flu. I mean, it is flu season after all.
“That would be great. And Foxy – please don’t say anything to anyone.”
“I won’t.”
My heart pounds in my chest. What if it’s not stress? What in the fuck will I do then?
I wait at the door of our living space for a few minutes before Foxy comes back, handing me a small brown sack.
“Want me to wait with you?”
She’s being so nice and my eyes water.
“No, thank you.”
Because if my life is about to come apart then I want it to happen while I’m alone.
“Okay. Let me know if you need anything.” She takes a few steps before adding, “And, good luck.”
I smile weakly and walk into the living room.
It’s quiet, but I still call out, “Is anyone here?”
Silence.
Perfect.
Maybe.
When I’m in my room, I pull the test from the sack and read the instructions on the box. Seems simple enough. Take the test out of the protective cover. Pee on the end of the stick. Wait three minutes. This test is fool proof. It will either proclaim Pregnant or Not Pregnant at the end of the three minutes. Easy-peasy.
Fuck. Why am I so nervous?
My bladder is full, so it’s now or never. I sit on the toilet, putting the test between my legs. What if I don’t get enough pee on it? Or is there a way to get too much? The end of the stick is wet when I pull it back out, so I set it on the counter and finish peeing. When I’m done, I start the timer on my phone.
Only, now I’m starting to feel sick again. Reaching for the trash can, I dry heave for what feels like forever. When I finally empty the contents of my stomach, which is mostly water, I feel relief, but only for a second. What if I am pregnant? What then?
The front door slams and Saint calls out, “Liv, you here?”
Fuck!
I didn’t lock the door to my bedroom! Hell, I don’t even think I closed it. Thank god I’m not at my old place, with twenty-two steps from the living room to the kitchen. I quickly wash my hands. I’ll have to get rid of the trash can sack with the test box in it later.
Opening the bathroom door, I call out, “I’m in the bathroom. I’ll be out in a bit.”
“Come to the kitchen when you’re done. King and I have news.”
“Okay.”
I hold my breath, listening. Each sound I hear makes my heart miss a beat. What if they come to check on me? This is the last thing they need right now, especially when I don’t know who the father might be. I’m getting ahead of myself. There’s no need to fucking freak out until I have concrete proof.
Three minutes isn’t that long. Right now, it feels like three days. I glance at the clock. Or three years. How is there still this much time left?
My phone finally beeps, and I pick up the stick. Holy fucking shit.
Pregnant.
“Fuck.”
My stomach roils and I barely make it to the toilet before I barf again. When I’m done, I rest my head against the cool porcelain. This can’t be happening.
Reaching for my phone, I google how long a female is pregnant before she shows symptoms, like this beastly morning sickness. Eight weeks seems to be the magic number. I look at the calendar app, narrowing the timeframe down quite a bit. Shit. It’s either when Razor and I had a quickie in the hospital, or when Saint and I banged at my old apartment. That’s around the same time I was on the antibiotics, too.
Another google search confirms my fears. Certain medications can change the effectiveness of birth control. While it’s not common, it can happen. I look at the stick on the counter. And, apparently its fucking happened.
How in the fuck am I going to tell them?
Hey guys. Guess what. I’m pregnant and either Saint or Razor is the father. Surprise! Sorry about the timing. Babies. Am I right?
Tears pool in my eyes and I try in vain to blink them away.
And remember how I said I didn’t want kids? I think I may have been wrong about that, too. Because I think I’m finally ready to be loved. And when I think of a baby that looks like Saint or Razor, I kind of melt.
There’s a knock on the door and I reach for the stick, shoving it into the trashcan. Thankfully my vomit from earlier covers it.
“Liv? You okay?” It’s King.
“Yes,” I lie. “Just washing my hands.”
“Saint heard from Bash and Razor.”
That makes me stand. “I’ll be right out.”
“Hurry. It’s good news.”
I splash water on my face before going to the living room.
Saint turns, smiling. “He’s coming home. Razor finally convinced him.”
“Oh, thank god,” I breathe out.
“They’ll be here tonight.”
“Is he- do you know if he’s okay?”
Saint shakes his head. “I don’t. Razor said he’s willing to come home, which is good.”
“Yeah. That is good.”
King touches my arm. “You sure you’re okay? You look pale.”
I force a smile on my lips. “Never been better. Just stressing over my finals.”
What’s one more lie?
“How long is winter break?”
“Four weeks.”
He grins. “And before you know it, you’ll be a graduate.”
It is kind of amazing to think that I’ll have a degree when this is over, especially considering how far behind I was six years ago.
This time my smile is genuine. “When you put it like that, my finals don’t seem so bad.”
Saint adds, “If you keep saving the club money, you might have a job offer before you graduate.”
“I’d consider it, if the pay was right.”
King hoots. “That’s our girl.”
Saint replies, “We’ll have to talk more about it. And, if you’re serious, I’ll run it by the brothers at Church.”
“Is that even a thing – a woman having a club officer’s position?”
“It’s not normally, but you’re more than qualified and, since the spot’s been vacant for a while, I don’t see why they would object, particularly when they see how much business you’ve brought into the shop by updating the website.”
This is more than I could hope for. A job that utilizes my degree and helps the loves of my life at the same time. A win-win situation. And then I remember my little secret. A secret that might change everything. I’m not sure I want a kid, but what if they don’t want one either?
“Well, we have time to decide. When do Razor and Bash get here?”
“Okay. I’m going to take a nap before they get home. Do you think I should make dinner?”
Saint and King both shake their heads, and Saint answers, “No.”
I’m sure there’s something behind this short answer, but right now I’m too drained to care. I give them each a smile and pad to my room.
When I’m under the safety of my covers, I put my hand on my stomach. If I’m pregnant, well, it’s going to change everything.
16
Olivia
When I wake up, I’m still feeling like shit. I send Foxy a text.
Me: Hey. Can you come to my room?
Foxy: I’ll be there in five.
Five minutes later, there’s a knock on my door.
King says, “Liv, Foxy is here.”
“Come in.”
Foxy walks in, closing the door on King’s prying face. I’m sure he’s wondering what in the hell is going on with me, but I can’t talk to him. If I do, I know I’ll break down and tell him everything. As selfish as this sounds, I need to be the one to make the choice about what’s going to happen. I don’t want anyone to influence it.
Foxy sits on the end of my bed. “You okay?”
“It was positive.”
“I figured as much.” She pushes a bag toward me. “I bought a few more. You know, in case the first one was a fluke.”
A sliver of hope blooms in my chest. “Does that happen?”
“Not in my experience, but it’s worth a shot. There’s also some graham crackers and ginger ale. That’s the only thing that would settle my stomach.”
My eyes water. “Thank you.”
She grins. “Shit. I don’t miss the emotional part. Are you going to take them now?”
“Guess I should.” I pause. “Bash and Razor are coming home tonight.”
“That’s what I heard. Do you- do you know who the father might be?”
“I have it narrowed down.” I shake my head. “This is some Jerry Springer type shit, isn’t it?”
She laughs. “No. You love them and they love you. Now, if you were a club whore and had to narrow it down between fifty guys—total Springer material.”
“I guess you’re right. Okay. I’m going to do this.”
Taking one test was hard. Three, on the other hand, is really hard. Somehow I manage to get enough pee on all three sticks, though. I set the timer on my phone and wait. Only, this time I go back into my room and sit with Foxy.
“How old were you when you were pregnant?”
“About your age. It was only a few years ago.”
“Was he a biker?”
She smiles. “He was. Met him at a rally. Thought I was in love. When I told him about the baby, he fled, though. Heard through the other whores that he had a wife back in Alabama.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I was prepared to raise the kid on my own. Guess the big guy up in the clouds had other plans, though, because I lost it a few weeks later.”
I frown. I don’t know if I want to be pregnant, but the thought of losing a baby makes me want to cry.
She touches my arm. “I was doing some bad things back then, Liv, before I knew I was pregnant. Your situation is different.”
“I don’t know if I want to keep it,” I blurt out.
“You have options. Have you made an appointment yet? Your doctor can tell you more about your choices.”
“I haven’t.” I let out a laugh. “Who knows? Maybe it was a fluke.”
My alarm buzzes and we both look at it. Fate sure has a fucking sense of humor, because that couldn’t be more perfectly timed if we had tried.
“Want me to look?”
I nod. “Please.”
Because right now I don’t think I can do it. She disappears into the bathroom. When she comes out, I know what she’s going to say before she even opens her mouth.
“Not a fluke then?”
“Not a fluke,” she confirms. “I still have the number of the doctor I used. We can make an appointment and I can go with you.”
“I guess I should.”
She pulls her phone from her bra and scrolls through her contacts.
“Hi. I’m calling to make an appointment with Dr. Deathridge for Olivia Mayhem. You do? Hold on.” She puts the phone against her chest and whispers, “He has an appointment this evening. Do you think you can get away?”
I nod.
“Yes. She’ll be there at six. Thank you.”
When she ends the call, I say, “Guess I better change.”
“How are you going to get out without King and Saint noticing?”
“By calling in a favor.”
I reach for my phone and send Agent Hill a text. He responds right away that he’ll be there to get me.
Foxy looks down at her clothes and says, “I better go change, too. Want to meet at the front door?”
“Sure.” When she gets to the door I add. “Foxy. Thank you.”
“No problem. Us Devil’s girls have to stick together, right?”
Devil’s girls? I like the sound of that.
I change and then find King and Saint.
“I’m going to see Dr. Cross before Bash and Razor gets here.”
King looks up from his book. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah.” I lie. “Agent Hill is taking me.”
I swear the way King looks at me makes me wonder if he knows something. I’m just being paranoid. There’s no way he could know something is up.
He smiles. “Okay. See you soon.”
Saint calls out from the kitchen, “Be sure to take a jacket. It’s chilly out.”
“I will.”
I meet Foxy at the front door just as Agent Hill arrives.
Foxy whistles. “Who’s the hottie?”
I glance at Agent Hill and laugh.
“You think he’s hot?”
“I do,” she practically hums. “Older. Sexy. Hands that look like they could spank me or choke me. Oh yeah, sister. He’s my type.”
“He’s the FBI agent I was working with.”
This doesn’t faze her. “Hopefully, he’s single.”
I get in the front and Foxy climbs into the back seat, sitting in the middle.
She leans forward. “Hey stud. My name’s Foxy. What’s your name?”
His cheeks turn bright red. “Agent Fred Hill, ma’am.”
“Fred,” she purrs. “So very nice to meet you. And thank you for coming to get us.”
Damn. She’s laying it on thick, but I think he might like the attention. In fact, now that I think about it, he’s never told me his first name.
Agent Hill looks at me. “Is everything okay? Dr. Cross didn’t mention having an appointment with you.”
“I actually need you to take me somewhere else.”
His eyebrows lift. “Where?”
Foxy spouts off the address and he enters it into his GPS. When the location pops up, his head snaps toward me.
“Now you can see why I couldn’t ask them for a ride.”
As we drive, Foxy chats away with him, asking him all sorts of things. It’s interesting seeing this side of him—just a man talking to a woman he may be interested in. Not a hint of business.
“So, Fred, have you been married?”
“Once. We divorced several years ago.”
“Was it because of your job?”
“I think that had a lot to do with it. I was away a lot, and she got lonely.”
“Bet she started hooking up with someone you knew, right?”
He glances at her. “Yes. My brother.”
“Damn. I’m sorry.”
“So am I. It was very confusing for our daughter, especially when my ex had children with him.”
Foxy touches his shoulder. “I bet that was tough.”
“What about you? Have you been married?”
“Not even close. I’m a fuck ‘em and leave ‘em ty
pe of girl. Or used to be.”
“What changed?”
She jabs a thumb in my direction. “Seeing Ms. Thing over here get the most ruthless men I’ve ever met fall in love with her was eye opening. Made me realize there’s someone for everyone out there. I just haven’t found him, or her, yet.”
“I wish you the best of luck in your endeavor.”
“Are you seeing anyone right now?”
Color creeps up his neck. “It’s nothing serious. Are you?”
“Same here. We should grab a drink or something.”
“I’d like that.”
She grins. “Excellent. Oh look – we’re here.” To me, she asks, “Want me to come inside?”
“Please.”
“We’ll be back shortly, Fred.”
When we’re inside I giggle. “I’ve never seen him act like that before.”
“I have a gift when it comes to men. I know how to unlock them and get them to open up.”
“Are you really going to get drinks with him?”
“Hell yeah, I am. I need to see if he’s hung like I think he is.”
“Gross.”
“Sorry. I get it – he’s like a father figure to you.”
I’ve never thought about it before, but she’s right.
“Just don’t hurt him.”
“I won’t.” She pauses. “I do think there’s more to the other person he’s seeing. He hesitated, which means it might not be serious, but he wants it to be.”
“I’m amazed. I didn’t pick any of that up.”
“It’s a gift and a curse. Hopefully the other woman is into sharing. Might be just what I’m looking for.”
“Foxy, you are amazing.”
She grins. “Thanks, doll. Now, let’s go see this doctor.”
Dr. Deathridge is an older man with snow white hair and glasses that sit in the end of his big nose. His brown eyes are kind, and there’s not a lick of judgement in them as we talk. He’s delivered over three hundred babies, so I believe everything he’s telling me. Want to know how I know? His office wall is literally covered with photos of smiling babies. It’s cute, but also kind of scary. Will my baby be on his wall one day?
“Ms. Mayhem, the blood test results are back. You are indeed pregnant. Roughly nine weeks.”
Foxy squeezes my hand as I try not to cry.
