His Amazing Baby_A Miracle Baby Romance

by B. B. Hamel

  Aaron

  I have to cash in a favor to get this meeting, and I’m buzzing with anticipation as I get out of my car and hesitate. I take a cigarette from my pocket, lighting it up with a frown. I know it’s a gross habit, but I always smoke one before a big meeting.

  These guys like the smell. I don’t know why, maybe they think I’m some kind of down-to-earth working stiff that way. I inhale and slowly let it go, feeling the nicotine slide into my system. My hands shake less and my restless legs calm down as I smoke halfway to the filter. I flick it on the ground and stomp on it, clearing my throat and spitting on the ground.

  I turn to my car, make sure my suit’s perfect, and head toward the old Victorian mansion that serves as Steve Schneider’s office.

  This is what I wanted to do from the start. Mitchell was so fucking insistent on going right to retailers and getting the dealers on board right away, even before we had a prototype in hand, and I knew that was a bad idea. Those guys, they want to see physical objects, they lack the goddamn imagination. Unless you’re offering them absurdly good prices, of course, and are prepared to sell lower quality products to make up the difference.

  I would’ve skipped that fucking step. Instead, I would’ve gone to investors, men with big wads of cash that are constantly looking for the next big thing. These panels could be it, but Mitchell fucked that up already. Instead of getting some investment cash to build up our manufacturing capabilities and really make sure these panels are perfect, he decided to go the cheaper and easier route. Sure, he’s being pressured to turn a profit sooner than expected, but fuck him. He wouldn’t worry so much about that if he had an investor dumping money into the coffers.

  This is where I really shine. This is my fucking element. These guys, they’re sharks, and I’m fucking Jaws. I’m the big fish, even if I don’t have the money to back it up, it doesn’t matter. They recognize me for what I am, and they listen to me.

  Especially Steve. We have a good relationship, Steve and me, and I happen to know he’s on the lookout for a good investment these days. One of his other companies, one of those smart home pieces of shit, ended up making a boatload on their IPO, which means he’s flush with cash after he sold out.

  I head up the front steps and push open the door. It creaks, announcing my presence. This young blonde chick looks up, and although I don’t recognize her, I’m not worried. Steve goes through receptionists like he goes through wives.

  “Aaron Ward here for Steve,” I say to her, flashing my best charming smile.

  She nods a little bit, smiling back despite herself. I bet she’s normally a closed book, an uptight prissy girl, just the type Steve likes. I know how to make those melt, except I’m not in the market for that sort of shit right now.

  “Just a moment,” she says, picking up her phone. She waits a second as I look around Steve’s office. This was probably the living room at one point, although the whole house has been gutted and rehabbed. He kept some original pieces, like the wood floors and one wall of this crazy-looking blue and orange wallpaper. Otherwise, it’s a pretty modern contemporary sitting room with uncomfortable chairs and boring ass art that probably costs more than my yearly salary.

  I wander over toward the cast iron stove sitting in the corner. I bet it was original, too. I wonder when the last time was that it was used and who was using it. I wonder if anyone at the time knew that would be the last time their stove would be fired up for warmth. Probably not. Nobody even knows they’re in an ending until it’s too late.

  “He’ll see you,” the blonde says, sounding surprised. “You can go right in.”

  I smile and wink at her in that sleazy salesman way. I hope she’s suitably impressed as I walk past her and head deeper into Steve’s sanctum.

  The place is lined with modern art, and the layout is totally impossible to understand, probably a remnant of the original. I head down a short hall, turn a corner, and knock on a pair of double doors. Steve calls out for me to enter and I step into his office, which was probably the kitchen at one point.

  Steve stands up, a smile on his face as he comes around to shake my hand. He’s a little shorter than I am, in his mid-fifties, completely bald and going to shit. He looks like he golfs more than he actually works out, and definitely drinks more than he should. His pale skin’s mottled with red, probably from high blood pressure, but his cool blue eyes are icy and fierce as his absurdly white teeth flash at me.

  “Just the man I wanted to see,” Steve says as if this were some surprise visit. “It’s always a pleasure, Aaron.”

  “Steve, good to see you.” We shake hands, and his mitt is tough like an old ham. He grins at me and gestures for me to sit down in a chair near a little table off to the side of his room.

  “Drink?” he asks.

  I know I should always accept and never actually drink it. “Of course.”

  “Good man.” He pours two whiskies and carries them over, setting one down on the table in front of me before sitting down in the chair opposite, sipping his own drink.

  “Thanks for seeing me on such short notice,” I say, not mentioning how much this meeting is costing me. So many damn favors, now down the drain.

  “It’s nothing,” he says, dismissing me with a wave. “You’re always a fun meeting. Some of these guys, they’re a bunch of dour assholes. You know what I mean?”

  “Absolutely,” I say. “Number crunchers.”

  “No vision,” he says, nodding his head. “You know what got me to where I am?”

  “Tell me.” I know I need to keep him talking, get him all fired up. It’s not hard with a guy like Steve. He thinks he’s a genius just because he had a rich dad and made some lucky investments. Now he thinks he knows everything about everything, and he’s going to tell anyone who’ll listen the secret to life. It’s all total shit, just blowing smoke up his own asshole, so much smoke that it comes out his fucking mouth. But I know better than to interrupt. This is exactly the kind of mood I need him in.

  “Vision,” he says, shocking absolutely nobody. “I took some risks in those early days. I mean, I had nothing, you know, an empty bank account. I saved up money and put it all in stocks, made a little more, and boom. One day I was rich as hell.”

  That’s not true. Not even a little bit. I know for a fact that Steve’s father was a wealthy cattle rancher from Montana, a fact that he’s constantly running from, lest his more urbane rich asshole friends make fun of him for his country upbringing. That insecurity is why I like him so much.

  Makes him a fucking easy target.

  “It’s all about taking risks,” he says, going on. “You can’t make more money if you just hoard it all, right? Sure, I lost some, made some bad bets, but on the whole, I’ve done pretty damn good for myself over the years. And the guys that come in here, they just want to talk bottom line and overhead and benefits packages.” He rolls his eyes, like that stuff isn’t important. Idiot.

  “Must be boring,” I say, laughing a little. “I mean, what does any of that have to do with investing?”

  “Nothing!” he says, leaning forward. “Absolutely nothing.” He sips his drink, getting into it now. “You just have to want it enough. If you want it enough, you’ll go out and you’ll get it at any fucking cost. Doesn’t matter the cost, you’ll get it.” He nods to himself, satisfied with that. “People always complain to me, oh Steve, you have so much money, it’s not fair, you’re the one percent. Fuck that shit! I worked for my money.”

  “Absolutely,” I say, agreeing. “Just a bunch of whiney hippies.”

  “They’re just afraid. I don’t hate them, mind you, not at all. I don’t hate anyone. Make it a point not to. Waste of energy, and I don’t waste anything.” He waves that away again, his drink sloshing in his glass. I cross my legs, leaning toward him as if I’m drinking it all in, when really I’d rather eat my own puke than be forced to stay in the same room with this guy for longer than necessary.

  “Nothing wrong with success,�
� I point out to him.

  “Nothing wrong with it,” he agrees. “Nothing at all. You see it, I can see it. The world can see it. Some people just don’t want to understand.” He shrugs a little bit and leans back in his seat. “But enough of that, I’m rambling. I suspect you had to call in some favors to get this time, didn’t you?”

  I raise an eyebrow, surprised that he’s perceptive enough to see that. “I did,” I admit to him. “Which is why I don’t want to waste this opportunity.”

  “Okay then. Pitch me.”

  I take a deep breath and let it out. “The future of this world is in renewable energy. The gas and oil industries are huge, but they’re dinosaurs, and as with all dinosaurs, they’re going extinct. Sooner or later, no matter how much they lobby congress, fossil fuels and natural gas are on the way out. Renewables are the future.”

  He nods at that, a little smile on his face. “I have some friends that would be pretty pissed about hearing those words.”

  I’m aware of that, and it’s another reason why I chose him. “They’re not the ones I’m pitching to,” I point out. “They don’t have the vision to see what’s coming. It may not be this year, or next, but ten years? Twenty? Wind and solar are the future and we all know it. I want to make that future come just a little bit faster.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t know Sunrise Limited was looking for investors.”

  I lean back in my chair and cross my arms. This is the pivotal moment. If he doesn’t bite on this, I’m fucked. All my cards are on the table, and if he goes to Mitchell, tell him what I said, that would ruin it all. But he’s right about one thing.

  Sometimes you have to take a risk.

  “I’m not here for them,” I say. “I’m here because a talented engineer built a design that’s going to change the whole world, and Sunrise is too limited to see it. I’m here because we’re starting our own panel company, and we want you to be our principal investor.”

  He watches me for a moment, eyebrows raised. “Wow, kid,” he says finally. “Holy shit. I knew you had balls, but wow.” He laughs, shaking his head. “Mitchell Trainor would have a fucking seizure if he knew you were doing this, right?”

  “Right,” I agree. “I won’t tell you not to talk to him, because that’s not for me to say. But if you want to invest, we need to keep quiet, at least until we’re ready to move.”

  “Ready to move,” he echoes. “I’m not even sure I’m interested in all this. I mean, solar is coming, you’re right. But all the predictions I’ve seen call for fifteen years before it’s big enough to make serious cash.”

  “These designs are going to change those numbers drastically.”

  He watches me silently for a second, sipping his drink. “Why would Sunrise pass on that, then?”

  I take a breath and let it out. “The board’s pressuring Mitchell into making a profit. They’re thinking short-term, going the safe route. They’re using some aspects of the design, but sticking with traditional panel configurations overall in order to produce higher numbers more quickly.”

  “And that’s not what you want to do,” he says.

  “I want to do it right.” I lean toward him, eyes locked on his. “I want to build real panels that really will change the world. I’m here because you can help us get started.”

  He watches me, eyes cool and collected, but I can see a gleam there. Just a glimmer of something, but he’s not throwing me out, which is a good sign.

  “I want to see the designs,” he says finally. “And I want to meet him.”

  “Who?” I ask.

  “The engineer.”

  “Oh,” I say, smirking a bit. “You mean her.”

  “It’s a woman?” He laughs. “Even better. Bring me her and the designs, and we’ll talk more.”

  “Okay then,” I say, standing up. “I’ll make it happen.”

  “Yeah, I know you will.” He stands and we shake hands again. “There’s a reason I took this meeting, Aaron, and it’s not because of the favors you pulled in. I took the meeting because I’m curious about you, and I think you’re proving me right about that.”

  I nod and squeeze his hand before letting it go. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

  “Better make it very soon,” he says as I head to the door. “I’m looking for something new and getting good ideas every day. Can’t promise I’ll sit still for long.”

  “You won’t have to,” I say, pausing at the door. “You already found your future.”

  I leave his office, a smile on my lips. I know I have him, even if he doesn’t realize it. He’ll meet Riley, see the simplified designs, and he’ll knew this is for real. That’s all I need.

  I just need to get Riley on board with starting our own company first.

  23

  Riley

  It’s strange how quickly a place can start to feel like a prison.

  Most businesses really do look a lot like prisons, to be fair. Bland colors, uninteresting decorations, and the stink of desperation permeate even the nicest of workplace environments. I didn’t notice it all that much when I first came to Sunrise Limited, probably because I was so excited just to have a job that seemed to really want me, but now that’s pretty different.

  I see every little flaw. The bumps in the walls, the scuffs on the cubicle walls. I can smell burnt popcorn every time someone opens the break room door and I can hear the other engineers around me, really hear them, every gross glottal chew and mouth-breathe and snotty grunt. People are by default gross, and I’m probably included in that, but right now it’s taken to another level.

  I breathe in and let it go. I know I’m being harsh. My fellow engineers are just doing their jobs, I shouldn’t blame all this on them, but I can’t help myself. My whole world is crumbling around me and I’m trapped under these fluorescent lights, trying to ignore their buzzing, trying not to smash through these cardboard-thin walls and scream until my throat closes up.

  I’m being dramatic. Yeah, I know, it’s dramatic, but here I am. I’m pregnant, so I can get away with it, probably. I feel like I’m losing two babies right now: the baby inside of me, because I’m still pretty sure I’m giving it up for adoption, and my solar panels. One I’m giving up by choice, even though it still hurts. The other is getting ripped out of me by force.

  I want to concentrate on my job. I really do. The cursor blinks on my computer screen and I have another hour of code writing before I’ll actually complete the utterly meaningless and routine task I was assigned. I know I’m a code monkey now, no better than the lowest of the low on the hierarchy, and that’s not so bad in and of itself. But that combined with all the other insults makes me want to vomit in my own mouth.

  I’m still being dramatic. I know, I know. I take another deep breath, try and let it go. The door to the break room opens and I sniff a little bit. Burnt popcorn, and something else. What is that? I crane my neck around the end of my cube, but the break room door is shutting already, the source of the smell getting bottled back up.

  I sigh, leaning forward again. Someone blows his nose nearby. I have to count to ten before I can go back to work. Someone grunts and answers a phone on the other side of the room. I have to count to twenty before I can think about counting to ten before I can get back to work.

  I’m a mess. I’m a big freaking mess. Nobody wants to hear me complain but here I am, bitching and moaning internally while staying completely silent externally. Layer on layer of fucked-up messiness, that’s what I am. Maybe that’s all I’ll ever be.

  I hear footsteps coming down the carpeted hall. I want to look, but I restrain myself. I can’t look every time someone crosses behind my cube. I wait for the steps to pass but they don’t, they stop somewhere nearby. I half turn and notice a blotch in my peripheral vision. I turn completely, facing the blotch, and it resolves into Aaron’s smug gorgeous face.

  “Hey there, beautiful,” he says.

  I quirk an eyebrow at him. “Beautiful?” I haven’t washed my ha
ir in three days and I’m pretty sure I’m wearing the same cardigan I wore yesterday.

  “Sorry, is that workplace harassment?” he asks, barely suppressing another smile.

  “Yes,” I say. “But whatever. You’re an ass anyway. What do you want?”

  “We need to talk.” His cocky smile is gone, replaced by a serious mask.

  I shake my head. I’m just not interested in it anymore. I don’t know what he’s up to and I don’t want to know. “Maybe later,” I say, turning away.

  “Riley.” He steps into my cube, crouching down next to me. I’m a little startled. “Listen. This is important, okay?” He’s whispering, practically hissing into my ear.

  I look at him again, at his damn handsome face, the father of the baby growing inside of me. I let out an involuntary sigh. His suit is pristine, almost too perfect as always. Sometimes I wish he’d have a single hair out of place just so that I could feel better about my own slovenly self, but whatever, here we are.

  I’m still being dramatic.

  “Can it wait until after work?” I ask him.

  He shakes his head, that smile creeping back. “I’m sure you’re sick of me right now, but try and trust me one more time.”

  “You haven’t made that easy.”

  “I know.” He runs his hand through his hair, and I realize that he’s nervous. Stressed, even. Which I thought was impossible.

  “What did you do?” I ask him quietly, leaning closer.

  That gleam in his eye gets brighter. “Who says I did anything?”

  “I say, because I know you.”

  “Do you?”

  “Stop playing games.”

  “Stand up and come with me.” His breath smells like mint and lavender, an insane combination, but it’s intoxicating. I want to feel his tongue against mine again, his teeth on my ass cheek. I want his finger in my tight asshole. God, I’m so fucked up and dramatic, but I don’t care. I want him. “I have one more gift that I think may help our little… situation.”