Big Bad Twins

by Tia Siren

  “Now that you bring it up, I think I’ll just keep it. It’s not like you wanted to be a father. I’m not ready to be a mother, but I’m willing to try. If you want to go off and fuck cheerleaders, go ahead. I’ll just be taking care of your illegitimate child.”

  I stood up and grabbed my things. I think more than enough people could hear what was going on, and I knew I had made a mistake by talking about it so cavalier over breakfast. I did my best to hide my face as I walked out of the restaurant.

  At least, he’d helped me make the decision. I didn’t know if I wanted to keep it to begin with, but the idea of being a mother sounded like a great adventure. I was feeling more confident now than I ever did when I was drinking.

  I plucked the pamphlet from my purse that I’d never taken a chance to look at in the past. The mothers looked so happy in the photographs, and I wanted that. Jake would have been a great father, not that I expected him to become one.

  I called in to work and took the day off. I had a lot of thinking to do and work was the worst place for it.

  My phone began to vibrate; Jake was calling. I cooled my head for a moment and answered the phone.

  “What,” I said angrily.

  “Can we, at least, talk about this?”

  “I thought we talked about it. I know what your opinion is on the matter, and I’m going to choose what I want.”

  “Angie, I always told myself that I would have a family someday, but not like this. I want a proper family, where you get married, and settle down, get a dog and a house; all that stuff.”

  “And you think I don’t?” I replied. “I didn’t want to have kids, but I can’t imagine giving up a child that we made. You do what you want, but I’m done talking about this right now.”

  I clicked off the phone and noticed a missed call from Martin, so I quickly dialed him back.

  “Angie, where the hell are you,” he said.

  “I was out on a date,” I replied.

  “You called out today, but I need to talk to you right now, and in person.”

  The line went dead; I guess he was serious again.

  I hopped a cab uptown while pondering what was in store for me at the agency.

  The office was mostly empty today, just a few personal assistants running about and grabbing one thing or another. I strode into Martin’s office, hoping not to be noticed.

  “Angie, this is a real mess I’m in now,” he said, “and you know why?”

  I shook my head no.

  “I got a hot tip from a waiter at a breakfast bar about twenty minutes ago that says you’re having a kid. And, not just anyone’s, you’re having the quarterbacks kid.”

  I felt a little timid about responding, so I waited for him to continue.

  He plopped himself in his old leather roll chair and reached to the bottom floor of his desk and drew out a bottle of bourbon and a glass.

  “I’d offer you some, but I had a feeling you’d say ‘no’.”

  He gave himself a healthy pour and belted it back in one gulp.

  “I knew this thing would start getting messy. Hell, I got some half-assed threat from Bob upstairs that says he wants you gone. What did I do? I laughed at him. He’s got about as much control of my staff as you do.”

  “Martin,” I started.

  “Don’t start tryin’ to talk sense to me now. You gotta bury this thing, Angie. I can’t tell you what to do right now, but the way I see it is that you got a choice. Either you have the baby, or you have your job. I won’t let this place become a media circus over your torrid love affair. Get out, and don’t come back until you’ve decided.”

  I stood up sheepishly, starting my way toward the exit. How could I choose between one and the other, at this point I wanted both.

  Unfortunately, it looked like the media had gotten their hands on my work address, as I exited the building I saw a small crowd of reporters.

  One of them in the group looked at me and started scampering my direction. I was too shocked and confused to talk to reporters right now. I scurried to the rear of the tower, to a small service exit, and ran out and around the corner to avoid them.

  I had a feeling that it would be just as packed at my apartment, but I felt the need to check anyway.

  The short ride back had me feeling incredibly nervous. I had never been the center of attention like this. Normally I was the one on the sidelines pulling my clients out of view, or doing a small announcement for the agency. But, I had never been the center of something so big.

  Rounding the corner, I saw a crowd gathered, larger than the one at work. I couldn’t dream of dealing with them right now, either.

  I could use a drink.

  9.

  I had the driver drop me off in an empty alley near Devlin’s bar down the street. Upon entering the bar, I found it nice and empty, save for the usual barfly that sat on the back stool. I meandered to the closest table and sat, waiting for service, and partially hiding my face with my jacket.

  The air was full of cigarette smoke, and I let out a cough to clear my lungs. I looked at my phone; it was dead silent. A loud crack from the back room and out popped Devlin; tossing the server door open and carrying a case full beer, only stopping for a moment to hand one to the barfly. With a quick look around the bar, I could tell he noticed me at the table. So, he sat his goods on the nearest countertop and walked over my way.

  “Congratulations, girlie. Looks like you bagged a winner,” he said with a smile.

  I pushed myself lower into the booth.

  “Oh, don’t be so shy. I’m sure everyone will stop caring by tomorrow,” he took a seat opposite me.

  “What am I going to do this time, Dev? If I have the kid, then I’ll be jobless, and homeless. Jake doesn’t want a kid, and I don’t want to make him be a father. But, if I terminate then I keep my job and everything goes back to the way it was.”

  Devlin pulled off a shoe and started to massage his foot through his sock. I tried my best to pay little attention to it.

  “You know, Angie. Being forced to do something that you don’t want to do is little fun,” he said.

  “I know,” I replied.

  “What do you want to do?”

  I thought about it for a moment.

  “I want not to think about this, that’s what I want to do.”

  He nodded.

  “We all have things we don’t want to think about. See the barfly in the back? He’s avoiding talking to his son about becoming a dad for the first time. His son is barely out of high school and already starting a family.

  “He doesn’t want to do it, but at some point he’ll have to put away the liquor and deal with the problem, or it just won’t go away. You have an interesting choice ahead of you, and you’re the only one that can make it.

  “Still, though. I’d fancy you a mother. I think you could be one of the greats, cause I’ve seen how you handle the people that come through my bar.”

  I smiled at the compliment.

  “Thanks Devlin,” I said.

  Then my phone started vibrating. It was Jake again. I picked up the phone and answered.

  “Jake-“

  “Angie, I need to talk to you, as soon as possible. Where are you?”

  “Devlin’s bar where we first met,” I replied.

  “Just wait there, I’ll be right down.”

  Devlin gave me an approving wink and returned to getting the bar ready for the evening. Ten minutes passed and the door flew open.

  Jake walked in, and I could see that he had some reporters with him. But, before they could enter he turned around and locked the door.

  “Hey, that door needs to remain unlocked during business hours,” shouted Devlin from across the bar.

  “Just ten minutes,” replied Jake.

  He came over to me and pushed his way into the booth next to me. At least, his shirt wasn’t covered in scotch this time.

  “Angie, I know it’s only been a couple of hours since we last talked,
but I can’t get this out of my head,” he said.

  “How do you think I feel, Jake? This decision is driving me insane. And with all the reporters outside, I can’t say no. But, I can’t say yes either. If I have this baby, then my career is over.”

  “Angie, I can’t stand the thought of being without you,” he said, “and I can’t stand the idea of you losing the baby, either.”

  It pricked my ears up.

  “What are you trying to say?” I asked.

  He pulled himself away from the booth and knelt down on his knee, producing a ring box from his pocket.

  “Angie, I’ve been all over downtown in the last two hours, once you walked out I realized that I couldn’t say goodbye to you again, not like this.”

  He creaked opened the small box and showed off a gorgeous and simple ring.

  “Will you marry me?” he asked.

  I couldn’t believe my eyes. The burden in the back of my mind dissipated instantly as I looked into his soulful eyes.

  “Yes, Jake. Let’s get married,” I said.

  I stood up from the booth, and he picked me up triumphantly.

  Devlin, the sneaky bastard, had taken the chance to come up behind us and unlock the front door. I had never been in the center of such a media affair.

  The next week was nothing but my face in the paper next to his in that silly booth at Devlin’s.

  The marriage got him so excited that Jake went on a winning streak, and became much more popular. With us getting married, Martin had nothing left to say.

  I could still remember the last game of the season, sitting in the box seat not as an agent, but as a wife. The other players wives had started to accept me. Monica ended up moving across the country, last I heard, she hated every second with her new husband.

  We had each other, and in the end, that was all that mattered.

  *****

  THE END

  BWWM Romance Collection

  The Russian’s Secret Love Child – Tyra’s Story

  A BWWM Billionaire Pregnancy Romance

  ''It's okay, Tyra, hold on to me,'' Natalie said as Tyra collapsed into her arms.

  Father Smith had told me it would be like this, Tyra thought. But which of the emotions had he meant? The Grief or the guilt? Tyra was experiencing both. Two of the most powerful human emotions were wracking through her at will.

  ''Tyra, we're so sorry for your loss.'' Tyra lifted her head from Natalie's shoulder. It was Mr. and Mrs. Radley Samuels, Tyra's boss and his wife.

  ''Thank you for coming. I really appreciate it.'' Tyra didn't think she could speak, but the words came out somehow. Natalie handed her another tissue and for a moment, Tyra could see clearly again. She looked to her left and saw a line of mourners waiting to express their condolences to her.

  ''If only I hadn't been so selfish,'' Tyra said to Natalie as they walked up the cemetery path. It had taken an eternity to work through the line of those seeking to express their condolences and Tyra was exhausted. ''It was foggy, and I knew dad didn't want to drive that day. It was me. Me moaning that they hadn't been to see me in my new home in the city. Lord knows, I think I even suggested they weren't interested in me anymore.'' She held onto Natalie again as another insufferable wave of guilt rammed at her. ''No, I killed them. Dad would never have taken mom out in the car on a day like normally.'' Natalie didn't know how to comfort her friend. They were both just twenty-three and beginning to make their way in the world. Losing parents wasn't supposed to happen until later in life.

  *****

  Three weeks after the funeral, Tyra stood outside the jewelry store on West 47th Street and looked at it, really looked at it, for the first time. I've been working here for seven months, and this is the first time I've properly taken the place in, she thought. Grief-stricken and riddled with guilt; she felt her senses had become sharper since the passing of her parents. It was as if someone was making her take notice of the world. Making her appreciate what can so easily be torn away from you, in an instant.

  West 47th Street was full of jewelry shops, but none as grand as J.P Samuels. They might as well have called it, 'Jewelers to the rich and famous,' she thought. For that's what it was. A place where the rich came to gorge on expensive stones. The front of the store was imposing. Between the cleanest store windows in New York, there were columns of polished black granite. The entrance was in the middle of the store and it too was surrounded by shiny black stone. The door itself was made of bulletproof, reinforced glass. What Tyra liked best about the facade was the sign. It was made of copper and ran the length of the store. The background was dark and the letters that had been forged onto it were polished and stood out better than any other letters on the street.

  ''Welcome back Tyra. I'm so sorry to hear about your mom and dad,'' Leon said. ''Thanks, Leon. It's very brave of you to say so.'' She'd found that most people just turned away from her, not knowing what to say. Not Leon. It was his job to stand inside the door and keep out the undesirables. He was perfectly equipped to do so at six feet seven and two hundred and fifty pounds, but it involved hours standing in the same place, day after day.

  ''Tyra, my girl,'' Radley Samuel's said. He'd been waiting for her. Normally, he didn't stand in the shop.

  He had others to do that for him. His job was managing the business that his grandfather had started. ''Come with me.''

  Tyra followed him through the store. They walked past glass cabinets filled with beautiful necklaces, rings, bracelets, earrings, and watches. At the back of the store, they went through a door and down a corridor. The first door on the right led to a security room. Tyra had never been in the room, but she had seen inside once when the door had been open. It was full of monitors and the latest lock down systems. It was all hi-tech, and she had no idea about any of it.

  Radley pushed open the first door on the left and showed her into his office. How can anyone spend hours in an office with no daylight? she wondered. There were pictures of his ancestors on one wall and a giant flora vase in the corner. What she liked most about his office was the carpet. It was deep red with the company crest woven into it.

  ''Tyra, please sit down.'' He pointed to a button backed armchair that stood in front of his mahogany desk. ''I want you to tell me how you are feeling. You've been through a lot, and I want to make sure you’re feeling up to working again.'' I wish I had a daughter like her, she's so graceful and kind, yet determined and motivated, he thought.

  ''Well, honestly speaking, I'm still feeling awful.'' You can tell him everything; he cares for you, she told herself as a moment of doubt crept into her mind. ''I weep a lot, especially in the evening and I feel guilty. So guilty.'' She noticed how closely he was listening to her. The furrows on his forehead were deep with concern for her, and his eyes were looking directly into hers, seeking any sign that a return to work may be too early.

  ''There is nothing I can say to you that will make you feel better. All I can do is tell you what happened to me when my son was killed.'' Killed? I didn't know he'd had a son, she thought. The thought that someone close to her had also suffered such a loss made her feel better.

  ''My son was only nineteen. He was studying business at New York University and working here at the weekends.'' He stopped talking for a moment, took out a white handkerchief from his jacket pocket and wiped his forehead. Tyra knew him to be fifty-nine. He was quite tall and very thin. It was as if he was so involved in his business he forgot to eat.

  He looked at her with a pained expression as he continued. ''One morning, he left home to go to college, and he never came back again. A man who had been drinking all night decided to get into his car and drive to the girlfriend he had left for dead in her apartment the previous evening. When he fell asleep at the wheel, it was my son he hit.'' Tyra noticed a crack in his voice. ''Walking down the street minding his own business.'' He took the handkerchief and blew his nose.

  ''Oh my God, that's awful,'' Tyra put her hand to her mouth.

  He n
odded. Perhaps I shouldn't have burdened her with this, he thought. ''At first, everything was a blur. It was only after the funeral had taken place that it really hit me. After the funeral, everyone seems to disappear. All the kind words and supporting arms are no longer there. You are suddenly alone.'' He ran his hand through his thinning gray hair and looked towards a photo on his desk. Tyra couldn't see who it was. She assumed his son.

  ''The Undertaker had warned me about it. A deep hole, he'd called it, and I fell into it.'' When he paused, Tyra thought about where she was mentally and recognized what he was describing. ''The Undertaker also explained that there is something called the cycle of grief. You go through stages of grief, and if you are lucky, eventually come out the other end. The last stage is called the acceptance stage. You stop all the blaming and come to terms with what's happened. Of course, you're still sad, but it gets easier.''

  ''It's very kind of you to tell me this. I had no idea. I was afraid I would have this level of pain for the rest of my life.'' Tyra looked at her hands. Her nails used to be so manicured, she thought.

  ''When I employed you, Tyra, I saw something in you. You are one of life's good people. I can see you care about people. When you talk to clients, you are patient, and most importantly, you listen to them. Did you know I have no relatives?''

  Tyra shook her head.

  ''No.''

  ''Well, I don't. Not one, and no friends. There's only my wife and me.'' He looked at her, and wondered what he was about to say, would do to her. ''I am going to leave the business to you.'' He stared at her, not wanting to miss her reaction.

  ''Pardon?' Tyra said. She wasn't really in the mood for jokes.

  ''I am going to leave the business to you,'' he repeated.

  What the hell is he playing at? This isn't funny, doesn't he know I've just buried my parents. She went to stand up, but he put up his hand and stopped her.

  ''For the last time, Tyra. You will inherit this business.'' Someone knocked on the door; it was his wife. ''Tell her Eliana, she doesn't believe me.''

  ''How are you, Tyra? We are very worried about you?'' she said ignoring her husband's plea for help.