G-Men: The Series

by ANDREA SMITH

  Lindsey had been moping around a bit the days that followed our July 4th cookout. I asked her if anything was wrong. She shrugged it off as simple boredom at her job with Banion.

  “How’s Eric?” I asked, cautiously.

  “Who?”

  “Lindsey,” I said, shaking my head and feeling totally like a shit. “Did you two have a disagreement or something?”

  “No, nothing like that. He went back to Purdue, I guess. Said he was taking a late summer course. I think he was simply bored with Banion Pharmaceuticals or maybe just bored with me.”

  My heart went out to her; such a beautiful and talented girl she was. She would naturally think it had something to do with her. For whatever reason, Lindsey needed a wake-up call for her own self-esteem.

  What the hell? She was just like me in that respect. I could blame Jack for that, but the truth was Jack only did what I’d allowed him to do. Guess it was time to blame ‘Mom.’ I certainly didn’t want Lindsey blaming me. I needed to give her the best advice that I could.

  “Lindsey,” I said in my admonishing tone, “you need to give yourself some credit. If Eric said he needed to go back to school for a summer course, then why would you doubt his honesty? Besides, you yourself said it was a friendship.”

  “I know, you’re right,” she admitted. “It isn’t really about Eric at all. It’s more about the fact that I can’t seem to maintain a relationship with a guy, at all. Is there something wrong with me?”

  “No, not at all, sweetheart. You’re only nineteen, honey. Not even officially nineteen yet. What’s your hurry?”

  She looked at me with a hangdog look, so unlike Lindsey.

  “I know that I’m in no hurry to marry, but it’s just sort of like when I’m ready, I’d like to know that a good and decent man will be interested. So far, even my high school and freshman college relationships have been a failure. Mom, can I tell you something and you won’t judge me?”

  Was I prepared to hear this? Was she going to tell me she’d let some jock screw her because she felt she owed it to him? Worse yet, was she going to tell me that Lance had gotten her ‘in trouble’ and she had taken care of it?

  “Of course, sweetheart. I’m your mother, you can tell me anything. I love you unconditionally.”

  “I’m still a…virgin!” she choked, tears filling her eyes as if it was a confession of shame.

  My sweet baby girl.

  “Oh, honey,” I said, giving her a hug. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. It simply means that you’ve used good judgment and are saving yourself for the right man.”

  “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I’ve been able to do simple math since first grade. I mean, I know that you and Daddy were… . . . intimate when you were way younger than me. I know that you were pregnant when you married. I mean, how did you know that he was the right man?” She was looking at me expectantly. Wanting an answer that just didn’t exist.

  “Honey, I’m going to be honest with you because you’re a woman now, and you deserve to be treated like one. You’re right. I was young and I felt ‘pressured’ to have sex way earlier than I should have. Luckily, it worked out for me. I had the most wonderful child anyone could ever have wanted. The truth is, your father and I have had our share of differences.”

  “I can see that, Mom. I can see that you aren’t really close at all. I mean what’s the deal with separate bedrooms? I don’t for one minute think it’s because of your pregnancy. Then there’s…. .”

  She suddenly stopped talking. She was looking extremely uncomfortable with where the topic of conversation was headed.

  “There’s what, Lindsey?”

  “It’s just that Daddy seems inordinately interested in his assistant, Susan. I’ve noticed it at work. It’s really starting to piss me off. I think you should call him out on it.”

  Lindsey loved her father regardless of his indiscretions. Hopefully, she would continue to love me the same way once she learned of mine. Now wasn’t the best time to find out though.

  “Lindsey, it’s complicated. Please trust that I’ll do the right thing?”

  “I think there’s much more to this, Mom. If you truly believe that I’m an adult - a woman - then why can’t you be upfront with me about it?”

  I was torn as to how to answer my daughter. She was old enough to handle the truth, most of it anyway, yet she loved her father. I didn’t want her feeling pressured to take sides. She’d opened the door for this, perhaps it was an opportunity.

  “Okay, Lindsey, if you want the truth, you shall have it. I only hope you can handle it.”

  She nodded, taking a seat at the kitchen table. I took a deep breath, opting to just spit it out, short and simple.

  “Your father and I don’t love each other. We probably never have. We both love you very much and always will. I’m pregnant with another man’s child.”

  There it was…the Reader’s Digest version. She would either continue to love me, or she would hate me forever. It needed to be said, though.

  I watched Lindsey’s face as she digested the news. I saw no shock or disbelief at all. Had she always suspected? She reached across the table and took my hand in hers.

  “Oh Mom,” she said softly, “does Daddy know about the baby not being his?”

  I nodded, tears welling up in my eyes. “I suppose you think I’m the worst kind of mother,” I said, half-sobbing.

  “No,” she said softly, giving me a hug. “How could I possibly think that about you? All of these years, the years when I became aware of things between you and Daddy, I wondered how you had hung in there for so long.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I wasn’t blind, Mom. I had friends that I spent time with, going to sleepovers and camping trips with their families during the summers. I saw the way their parents interacted with each other. It was way different than the way you and Daddy interacted. I never actually saw you laugh together, or hold hands, or even kiss. I don’t mean to hurt you Mom, but I see Daddy laugh with Susan. They talk all the time, have lunch together. They’ve invited me, but I politely decline.”

  “Oh, honey, I’m not hurt that you’ve told me that at all. I figured as much. In your father’s defense, he was up against my father when I found out I was pregnant. He was pressured into the marriage. He wasn’t pressured into loving you, though. Please know that.”

  “I do know that, Mom. I know that both of you love me and have always put me first. That’s why I have no problem at all with you putting yourself first for a while. I know how Granddaddy can be. He’s extremely set in his ways and domineering. I have one other question for you, though.”

  “Go ahead,” I replied, nodding. I mean how bad could this be? The worst part was over.

  “Do you love the father of the baby?”

  How can I explain this to her?

  She didn’t ask for an explanation, though. She asked a simple question.

  “Yes, Lindsey. I love him.”

  “Does he love you, Mom?”

  I didn’t have to think long or hard about that question. Slate had never given me any reason to believe that he loved me, though I knew he cared about me. Those were two different things altogether.

  “I don’t know. I truly don’t know.”

  chapter 41

  It was two days before my birthday. I was lying on my back with my feet up in the stirrups waiting for Dr. Bailey to come into the examination room.

  I had the paper sheet across my knees, offering a small bit of privacy to protect what dignity I still possessed. I’d learned quickly when I was pregnant with Lindsey, that modesty goes out the window when it’s all said and done.

  I thought about the discussion that Lindsey and I had the previous day. I was relieved to finally get it out there. She hadn’t pressed me for any further info on the baby’s father. I wasn’t ready to divulge all of that anyway.

  I did a
sk that she not let her father know that I’d shared this with her. I explained it was a matter of pride for him. She understood. The truth was, I couldn’t tip Jack off that the marriage was over. Though I hadn’t specifically told Lindsey that, she knew it was inevitable, given the circumstances. She assured me that she would keep everything confidential for as long as necessary.

  The nurse had been in and taken all of my vitals. Everything looked fine. I looked up at the ceiling and giggled at the sticker that had been placed near the light fixture. It read, “Smile - your doctor is watching you.”

  Just then, I heard a bit of a commotion out in the hallway.

  “Sir, excuse me, you can’t go in there,” the nurse’s voice called out.

  What the…?

  “You said exam room three, right?”

  Oh dear God. That’s Slate’s voice . . .

  “Are you Mr. Dennison, sir?”

  “No,” he said with a smirk, “I’m the father of the baby.”

  My cheeks were flushed a rosy pink by the time the door opened and Slate sauntered in, as if he had every right to invade my privacy. He shut the door behind him, not bothering to notice that he’d shut it in the nurse’s face.

  “Nice position you’re in babe,” he said. “Wonder if we can buy one of these tables for your room.”

  “What the hell?”

  The nurse pushed through the door just then, extremely upset.

  “Mrs. Dennison,” she started, “I’m so sorry-”

  “It’s okay; he can stay. He is the baby’s father.”

  There, it was out now. I could officially be thought of as a skank at my OB/GYN’s office.

  Whatever.

  She backed out through the door, telling me Dr. Bailey would be in shortly.

  I looked over at Slate. He was thoroughly proud of himself for the commotion he’d caused.

  “How did you know I was here, Slate?” I was perturbed at his smugness. No - I was pissed.

  “I know every move you make, Diamond.”

  “Why in the hell are you still calling me that? You know my name now.”

  “I won’t call you Samantha. It’s too hoity-toity.”

  “Hoity-toity? Is that a real term, Slate?”

  “Okay, how about pretentious then?”

  “I’m impressed. Then call me ‘Sammie’ like other people do.”

  “That’s what the rat bastard calls you.”

  “How about I tell Jack that he can’t call me that anymore; that he has to use my pretentious name of Samantha, will that satisfy you?” I asked.

  He smiled, gracing me with that scrumptious dimple. “If you promise you’ll enforce it with him, then yeah, I’m down with that.”

  He sauntered over to where I was still laying on my back, feet up in stirrups and lifted the paper cover up to take a peek.

  “Slate, for crying out loud, a little privacy would be appreciated here.”

  “Aww babe, it’s not like I haven’t seen, touched or tasted it all before,” he smirked. He put the cover back down and leaned over, giving me a kiss on the lips.

  “Why are you here?”

  “Just being supportive of you, babe, in your delicate condition. I want to hear what the doctor has to say, make sure that you’re doing everything that you’re supposed to be doing and that things are progressing like they should.”

  Just then, Dr. Bailey came bustling in with my chart. He was in his late fifties, a no-nonsense type of man with snowy white hair and bushy eyebrows to match.

  “Well, Samantha, I see we have your husband with us today.”

  Holy crap.

  Dr. Bailey hadn’t been my OB/GYN with Lindsey, though he had all of my records from my earlier doctor who had since retired.

  He held his hand out to Slate. They shook hands. I hoped like hell that Slate didn’t blurt out anything inappropriate.

  “Pleased to meet you, doctor. I wanted to be here to make sure you have all of the information you may need.”

  Dr. Bailey clearly looked perplexed at the moment, glancing over my chart once again.

  “I’m not sure if the record shows that my blood type is O negative. I know that’s important information if Sammie has a negative blood type,” Slate explained.

  Dear God - Slate could’ve simply asked me that himself and saved me from . . . this!

  Dr. Bailey was scratching his forehead now, turning over various sheets contained within my file.

  “Your wife’s blood type is B positive. You didn’t know that, Mr. Dennison?”

  Here we go . . .

  “No, Doc, I’m not Mr. Dennison. I’m the baby’s father.”

  At that moment, I very much wanted to bury myself under the paper sheet. I seriously thought about just pulling it up over my head, but then realized it would leave my crotch area exposed for everyone to see.

  “I see,” Dr. Bailey replied, with a slight frown. “Well, now that we’ve cleared that up, there’s no cause for worry then Mr. - ?”

  “You can call me Slash.”

  Oh. Dear. Lord.

  “Ok then, Mr. Slash,” he said, turning towards me now, giving a slight nod of his head as if clearing his mind of confusion.

  The doctor pulled the paper sheet down a bit, squeezing some of the warm, clear gel onto my abdomen, rubbing the wand around so he could pick up the baby’s heartbeat.

  “Nice and strong,” he said.

  I watched as Slate caught the sound of it and noticed a look of pure joy flicker across his handsome face.

  The nurse came into the room, signaling that it was time for Dr. Bailey to do my pelvic exam.

  “Mr. Slash, if you’ll step outside for just a moment, you can return once the nurse leaves and I’ll be happy to answer any questions you may have.”

  “Sure, Doc,” he said, giving me a wink. “Be right back, Sammie.”

  As soon as Dr. Bailey finished, he snapped off his latex gloves and instructed me to sit up. I wrapped my paper sheet around my lower half as Slate re-entered the examination room.

  “Everything looks good and on schedule,” Dr. Bailey reported. “Your weight gain is appropriate. Your vitals are perfect. You have no complaints, so I would say just continue doing whatever it is you’re doing and I’ll see you next month.”

  “Doc,” Slate started, “I do have a question.”

  Dr. Bailey looked up from where he was making notations on my chart. “Yes, Mr. Slash?”

  “Is it safe for us to continue having sex regularly?”

  I. Am. Going. To. Kill. Him.

  I actually saw Dr. Bailey blush. Slate didn’t bat an eye waiting for an answer. Dr. Bailey cleared this throat.

  “Yes, Mr. Slash, it’s safe to continue having sex as long as Samantha’s comfortable with it. I would caution against anything too… . . . rough or strenuous.”

  “Got it,” he said. “Thanks, Doc.”

  Dr. Bailey left the room. Slate stood there with a dopey grin on his face. I was fuming.

  “Would you mind waiting outside for me? I’d like to have some privacy while I get dressed,” I hissed at him.

  “Are you pissed, babe?”

  “Nooo,” I said with an exaggerated sigh. “Why in the hell would you think I was pissed?”

  “We’ll talk outside,” he replied, slipping out the door.

  Once outside, Slate was on my heels as I headed to where my Mercedes was parked.

  “Hey, slow down, Sammie. Want to tell me what the hell has you in a snit? Is it some type of hormonal thing?”

  I clicked the remote unlocking the car door and opened it. “No, Slate, it’s not a ‘hormonal’ thing. It’s more of an ‘assholey’ thing. You made an ass out of yourself in there and embarrassed me to boot.”

  I started to get into the driver seat, but his strong arm reached out and pulled me back to him.

  “Hey,” he snapped, “I didn’t mean to embarrass you Sammie, b
ut my mother told me that I should find out if your blood type was negative, too. She said it could cause complications with the baby.”

  “Okay, so now your mother knows about this?”

  He nodded, as if that was the most normal thing in the world.

  “Why couldn’t you just have asked me about my blood type?”

  “Because I haven’t seen you since I talked to her about it.”

  “Whose fault is that?”

  “Oh, I see. You’re pissed ‘cause I haven’t been by to service you,” he chuckled.

  “That has nothing to do with it, Slate. It was you barging into the exam room, making sure that everyone knew you were not my husband, asking about having sex and calling yourself Slash for Chrissake. Of course it pissed me off!”

  “Okay, okay,” he said, pulling me to him. “I’m sorry babe. I really am. I can’t blow my cover though. You understand about that, right?”

  I nodded against his chest.

  “I’m going to be there for you, Sammie. I guess I didn’t tell you that before. I mean, if you want me there, that is.”

  “I do, Slate,” I replied softly, hugging him. “Just maybe a little more low-key, though?”

  “You got it, babe.”

  He kissed my lips softly several times, giving a low groan as I pulled away to get into the car.

  “Have you been keeping the door unlocked for me?”

  “Yep,” I said. “For all the good it has done.”

  “I’ll be there when I can. I miss you, too.”

  With that he was gone, quickly and quietly disappearing around the corner. It was almost magical, at times, the way he would turn up unexpectedly. He could disappear the same way. I sighed as I started the car and headed home.

  chapter 42

  I’d slept restlessly all through the night. I wasn’t sure if it was because I kept hoping Slate would pop in and surprise me with a mind-blowing orgasm, or because I was simply on edge and had no clue why. I finally drifted off to sleep around five in the morning. I was dozing somewhat peacefully at 10:30 a.m. when my cell phone rang. It was Becky. I was still in somewhat of a sleepy fog when I answered.