Dick (Bad Boys #1)

by R. C. Stephens

  “Lie down on your back, please,” he says. Then he squirts warm jelly on my stomach and places the wand on me, pressing gently. The picture on the screen becomes clear. He begins to take measurements of my baby. The tears fall down the sides of my face. I had dreamed of having another baby these last couple years, but being in a bad marriage I knew it wasn’t an option. Now with my life falling apart, I’ve been granted this miracle. Only now I will be a single mom raising two kids on my own. I had wanted to give Grant a good life, a father he could depend on, and now I feel like I’m not only letting Grant down but this unborn child growing inside me too.

  “The measurements indicate you’re nine weeks along.” Dr. Kimel cleans off the wand and passes me a tissue for my stomach. I squeeze my eyes shut. I’m carrying Blythe’s child and I’m in love with Dick.

  “Are you okay, Eden?” Dr. Kimel’s voice pulls me out of my head.

  “I have to be. I’m having a baby.” I force a smile.

  “You should start taking pre-natal vitamins right away,” he begins.

  My hand comes up to my temples. “Doctor. I’ve drank some wine and I kind of got a little more than tipsy a few weeks back. Is it going to harm the baby in any way?” I ask, suddenly petrified that I may have done something to hurt my baby.

  “That is common, Eden, when people get pregnant unexpectedly. Since it was so early on it should be okay. A lot of people drink before they know they’re actually pregnant. What is important is that you don’t drink from here on out.”

  “Of course. I mean, I would never …”

  “Okay.” He smiles knowingly. “Will you be seeing Dr. Williams like last time for obstetrics? We will need to set up an appointment with him right away.”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, Ana will take care of that. You take care of yourself, and if you need anything just book an appointment.” He smiles again and turns to leave.

  “Thank you, Dr. Kimel.”

  I leave the ultrasound room and head into a changing room. My hands are shaking so bad I can barely do up my blouse. I head back into the underground parking lot and into my car. This doesn’t feel real. I knew I had gained weight. The skirt I’m wearing now feels a little snug. I head out into evening traffic and drive straight for the Plaza. I feel the need to hug my son as tight as I can. I also need to figure out how I will break the news to Blythe. Will this change anything between him and me? Will he want to give our marriage another try? I call his cell phone on Bluetooth from the car. He picks up on the first ring.

  “Eden, is everything okay?” he asks with a worried tone, surprising me. He hasn’t been in touch all this time except for that demanding text he sent.

  “Everything is fine,” I answer and I hear him let out a long exhale.

  “What is it?” he asks.

  I pause.

  I want to tell him by phone because I would rather not see him face to face, but I know this is not a conversation meant for the phone. Besides, tomorrow we have mediation regarding the terms of separation. I don’t want to surprise him at the lawyer’s office either. I think someplace in public would be most fitting.

  “Can you meet me at the lobby in the Plaza, in say, about twenty minutes?” I ask as the pressure builds in my chest. I had just set myself free. Things have become so uncertain again so fast.

  “What is it Eden? Is Grant okay?” he asks, still sounding worried. I want to laugh. He was never worried about us when we were home. He has only ever been worried about himself and his empire.

  “Grant is fine, but we need to talk,” I answer curtly.

  Another pause and another long breath.

  “Okay, see you at the Plaza,” he says and I hear the phone click.

  It was good to get out of New York City, but I’m happy to be back home. The time away gave me the break I needed to think. Another week has gone by. A whole week I haven’t seen Eden. I miss her like fucking crazy. Seeing her face in the morning, her bright blue eyes, I even miss seeing her heavy-lidded eyes at night when she was tired at the end of the day. It’s good to be back home and spending time with my kids, but the apartment isn’t the same with Eden and Grant gone. I’ve thought of calling her a thousand times just to hear her sweet voice. I pick up my cell to call her, but I don’t know what I can possibly say to make things right. Spending time with her these last few weeks … it felt comfortable … like we were a family. Hell, it scared the shit out of me and made me feel like I had everything I’ve ever wanted all at the same time. No wonder I left town faster than a tornado on a path of destruction. It also doesn’t help that the kids don’t stop talking about her. Ma is still giving me dirty looks and telling me to get over myself. A part of me knows she’s right, and a part of me is still frozen on that day that Cassidy fucked me over. I’ve been fucked over all my life and as much as I want Eden, I also can’t get my shit together either.

  Ge sends me a text asking if I want to meet for a beer. I tell him to meet me at our usual place. It’s a rustic bar, nothing fancy. A lot of cops hang out there, which is cool because I don’t need to deal with people recognizing me. I usually put on a baseball cap and lie low. The paparazzi also don’t step foot in there because of all the cops, so it’s a win-win.

  After putting the kids to bed, I head to my room and throw on a long sleeve, black, faded T-shirt. The nights are getting cooler now. I also put on a pair of faded jeans and my Yankees cap. I’m good to go. I quickly tell Ma to keep an eye on the kids.

  “I saw her at the school, you know,” she says, eyeing me. She’s still talking about Eden. “She looks sad,” Ma says, and I hate to hear those words. If someone was meant to always have a smile on their face, it’s Eden Jenkins. She has the perfect smile. It lights up her eyes. Shit, Dick, stop thinking about her. I scold myself because I’m a fucking mess as it is.

  “I’m going to meet Ge,” I mutter. Then I give her a small peck on the cheek.

  “Good! I’m glad. And, Dixon …” She pauses and I turn around.

  “Yeah?”

  “You know I love you like my own boy.” She pauses. Her words cause my heart to sink unexpectedly. “I may not have said those exact words before, but you know I do. You and Ge are my world. You get that, right?” she asks, and I feel like the world just tilted sideways.

  A rush of emotion flushes over me. Ma and Phil had given me everything they could. They took care of me and gave me advice, a roof over my head, and clothes on my back. Phil taught me the basics of a computer. He even picked Ge and me up from Tae Kwon Do, so we wouldn’t walk the streets at night. I should have known that Ma loved me. The word love though never entered my mind.

  “Ma, why did you sell the brownstone in Bed Stuy?” I ask, because something just hit me.

  She eyes me warily. “You just figured that out, did you?” she asks in return.

  “You sold it because of me?” I ask and suddenly my chest hurts. She loved that brownstone. She always said that she felt close to Phil and Henry, the son she had lost, before I came into the picture in that brownstone. Then she convinced me she didn’t want it. It was exactly when Cassidy left me and I was a fucking mess. She gave it all up for me. She knew I was going to need her help. Maybe she even predicted that Cassidy was going to be a shitty mother, and I would need my help raising my kids. Tears begin to fall from my eyes, and she looks at me knowingly.

  “I would do anything for you, son, and I know I’ve done right because I watch everything you’ve done for those two cuties,” she says. She’s still lying on her bed with her hands on her belly, looking tough and poised and very Ma.

  “I don’t know what to say, Ma.” I walk over to her bed and kneel beside it.

  “I don’t need you to say anything. I just don’t want you throwing something good away,” she says, and I know she’s talking about Eden again. “You know, Dixon, she didn’t have what you had growing up. You never realized it, boy, but you were my family. We were always there to support you. Eden … she has no one. That’s
hard. I’ve told you this before. When Phil and I came to America from Trinidad, we were on our own. We started a family and did the best we could. We had each other. I repeat, that girl has no one. And, Dixon, you know why I’m telling you … It’s not because I only want you to help her. You and I both know how you feel. Now would you just accept it? You’ve always been a stubborn boy.” She shakes her head at me with a warm smile.

  “Thank you for everything, Ma. Everything.” I bow my head. She pats the top of my head.

  “Now get out of here. Don’t leave my other son waiting.”

  I grin and leave the room. Ma and her infinite love and knowledge. How did I not see any of this before? I’ve been so closed off.

  I leave for the bar. I take the Ferrari because it reminds of Eden. I remember the night we went to meet her mother. What a disaster, but she repeatedly put her trust in my hands. My head is spinning by the time I make it to the front door of the bar. The place is packed, the smell of beer wafting in the air. I notice Ge seated on a stool at the bar.

  I walk up to the bar and take a seat on the stool next to him. “Hey.”

  He lifts a finger to the bartender to signal for her to take my order. “You okay, man?” he asks, furrowing his brows.

  “Not really,” I admit.

  The bartender walks up. “What can I get you?”

  “Bud. Thanks,” I reply, and she grabs a bottle and pops the lid off.

  “It’s Eden, isn’t it? Ma said you fucked up,” he cackles.

  “Ge, do you know the reason Ma sold the brownstone?” I ask in a nonchalant kind of way.

  “Yeah, man, to help you with the kids,” he answers just like that.

  He knew. Ma knew. He didn’t care that his mother was throwing away all her memories just to help out some kid. He narrows his eyes at me and recognition hits. He knows now that I had no clue, that I was oblivious.

  “Dixon, man, you’re my brother. Of course it’s cool.” He smacks my back and there it is. Ma, Phil, and Ge took me in as family and treated me like one of their own. I was so hurt and blinded by the pain of my parents leaving that I never realized or appreciated what I had.

  “Ge, I was blind, man.” Those are the only words I can get out before I take another swig of beer. Then I think of calling Eden. I need to make this right.

  As I pass my car off to valet at the Plaza, I look into the lobby and see Blythe standing there in a crisp, gray suit, hands in his pockets. It’s hard to hate him when my son looks so much like him. On shaky legs, I walk through the sliding doors toward Blythe. He smiles softly as his eyes roam over me.

  “Eden.”

  “Blythe.”

  “Should we take a seat at the chairs over there? Or did you want to sit in the restaurant?” he asks. So far things are cordial. I’m not surprised. Blythe is a different man in public.

  “The chairs are fine. I’m not hungry anyway.” I shrug and make my way over to the large upholstered chairs and take a seat. The thought of food right now causes my stomach to turn.

  Blythe takes a seat in the chair beside me, gazing intently.

  There’s an awkward silence. “Eden, I messed up. I know.” He pauses and his left hand comes up to massage his temples.

  It seems like he has something bothering him or maybe something important to say. As it is, I’m surprised. He usually thinks he’s perfect, admitting he’s wrong is not like him.

  “I never meant to hit you.” He lets out a pained breath. “You know I’m not that guy. I would never hit a woman.”

  I cut him off because his words anger me. “You are that guy, and you did hit me … and twisted my arm,” I remind him, feeling brave in the lobby with people all around us.

  “Eden, please, listen …” he interrupts. “I need to say something, but please don’t flip out,” He waits for a response, crossing one leg over the other.

  As I stare at him, he doesn’t look like the tough media mogul that he is. He seems beat down. I’m not sure how much more I can take today, but I nod my head.

  “When I was with Maria …”

  I cut him off again. “You have the audacity to come here and talk to me about one of your whores?” I ask, wide-eyed. My pulse is now frantic and anger courses through my veins.

  “Let me speak for Christ’s sake, so you can see where I’m going with this. I’ve never touched drugs in my life …” His words make my skin crawl. “You know that, but Maria … she was into snorting coke and well, uh … I tried it with her and liked it.”

  My hand flies up to my mouth, and he pauses, murmuring, “Jesus.”

  As a visual of Blythe snorting coke off some model like I saw in a movie I watched a couple weeks ago, I feel the vomit rising to the back of my throat, “I’m going to be sick,” I call out, rising from the chair as I scan the lobby for the restroom. I spot it off to the right and dash away from Blythe without another word, taking wide strides to the bathroom. As I turn my head to the left, I spot Dixon out of the corner of my eye, walking through the main doors and straight toward me. Holy hell. His eyes turn wide as his gaze lands on me. I don’t have time to say anything in fear that if I do stop to speak with him, I will vomit right here in the middle of the fancy lobby. I brush past him and head straight for the restroom. Plunging into the first vacant stall, I fall to my knees, heaving over the toilet as I empty the remnants of my late lunch from my stomach, while trying to figure out why Blythe would tell me something so inappropriate. I begin to worry he has contracted an STD and maybe my baby is at risk.

  “Eden, what the hell is going on?” Dixon stands behind me, worry etched on his perfect face. I didn’t have time to lock the door to my stall. I can’t believe he actually walked into the ladies’ room, or maybe I can believe it. A woman leaves a stall and gives him a dirty look.

  I take a piece of toilet paper and wipe my mouth while standing back up. “What are you doing here?” I ask, a little breathless from being overtired and from another bout of vomiting.

  “What’s going on, Eden? Are you sick? Why is asshat here?” He moves in and places a hand on my shoulder. He seems truly worried.

  “I’m okay. I asked Blythe to come here to talk,” I say with sudden guilt in my tone. The minute the words leave my mouth, he takes a step back like he’s been punched in the gut.

  “Am I too late? Are you taking him back?” he asks with a wide-eyed, incredulous look on his face.

  “I can’t do this with you now. I need to go back out and talk to Blythe,” I say, pushing past him.

  He takes me lightly by the shoulder and swivels me around so we are face to face. I am fully aware that my breath must stink by the sour taste I have in my mouth. I take in his features and my heart grows soft. I’ve missed him so much.

  “I’m not leaving until you hear me out,” he demands.

  My shoulders deflate. “Dick, it isn’t a good time.”

  “I don’t care, Eden. I’m not leaving until we speak. I will wait at the bar until you’re finished speaking with asshat,” he says, stalking out of the ladies’ room before I have a chance to argue. I walk back over to the sink and look in the mirror. My pale complexion is even paler, and I have dark bags under my eyes. I wash my face and mouth with some cold water. Then I walk back out to Blythe.

  He stands up from his chair with a concerned look. “Are you alright?”

  “I’m fine,” I answer curtly, taking a seat back in the large chair.

  “Okay, so what I was trying to say but I clearly put badly was that I started to do coke. It made me feel on edge and angry when I wasn’t sniffing. I’m sorry I hurt you. I never meant to. After you left, I checked myself into rehab and I went for counseling. It was a real eye opener for me, Eden. You know I came from nothing. I was a poor boy and the power and money means everything to me.”

  “I know,” I answer, my tone laced with anger. I’m fully aware of what his priorities have been over the years.

  His eyes look sad. “I’m sorry, Eden. I lost sight of myself a
nd of you and Grant along the way. I want another chance. I know I don’t have a right to ask for it, and I’ve messed up so many times, but I still want that chance with you,” he pleads and a part of me wants to believe him. For the sake of the child growing in my stomach, I want to believe he is a changed man. My predicament is my heart belongs to someone else—a kind and giving man, who is worried about me, and waiting for me at the bar. But I’m not a selfish woman. I’ve never gone after my own wants. At least not since I gave birth to my son. I’ll do anything to make my son happy, and I know families make children happy. I know I was unhappy that I didn’t have a family. The baby I have in my stomach also deserves a mother and father by their side.

  “Blythe, I have something to say.” I pause and inhale slowly. Then I exhale at the same slow pace. “I’m nine weeks pregnant,” I blurt out and his eyes widen then settle down before he stands slowly from his chair.

  “Is it mine?” he asks and the question angers me.

  “Yes, it’s yours,” I snarl. “I know, you sleep with me once a year and you managed to impregnate me.” I snicker.

  “I didn’t mean it that way. I’m just surprised. I mean, I wasn’t expecting another child.”

  “What does that mean, Blythe?” I snap. “Do you not want another chance with me?”

  His answer is muffled as he mutters, “No, no, of course I do.” Only there is no conviction behind his words.

  “Are you clean now? I mean, do you have a drug problem?” I ask, needing to know.

  He murmurs, “No, no I do not. I told you I went to rehab. I still have a counselor. I’ve realized a lot of things in my life lately are messed up. I don’t know where I went wrong, but I know along the way I lost the man I used to be,” he says, and I can’t argue with that. “So does that mean you will come home with me now? Will you call off your damn attorney? She’s a real bitch, by the way.”

  “Blythe, I need to think. I just found out about the baby this evening and my mind is all over the place. Grant has already been through so much. I need time to think this through, and I need space. I have to do right by both of my children now.” My palm goes to my belly protectively.