Knocked Up on Valentine's Day

by Amy Brent

  “Then covering my ass is all this statement will do. I have not ever wanted you, nor will I ever want you in the future, Miss Brown. From now on, you will address me via email. I will not see you in person unless it is in a meeting, and if I ever misconstrue your attempts to touch me as a flirtatious advance, you will be fired on the spot.”

  I watched the shock roll over her face as tears rose in her eyes. She led off my desk with the ankle she had supposedly rolled and ran out—in the very same heels she’d tripped in—with her hands thrown to her face. I could hear her sniffling all the way down the hallway, but I didn’t fucking care. I was done with her bullshit, I was done with Charlie’s bullshit, and I was done with this pounding headache I couldn’t seem to get rid of.

  I didn’t have the energy to give a fuck how I spoke to her. All I wanted was a drink.

  Grabbing my keys, I left my shit in my office as I started for my car. I drove around town, trying to find a bar I didn’t think some disgruntled employee would walk into. The last thing I needed was for someone who hated me to see me drinking well before noon.

  Especially the type of drinking I intended to do.

  I found myself back at the sleazy salsa bar where I’d met Charlie that one time. Back when I was determined to finish all this shit off. Back when I still had a brain that wasn’t guided by my dick.

  I don’t know what pulled me to that place, nor did I understand why I had walked in, but the moment I did I navigated back to the table where Charlie and I had sat and had that inevitable conversation.

  Why the hell did I stop her from leaving? Why the fuck did we get drunk that night? What was it about her—in those ratty jeans and baggy shirt—that drew me to her?

  The bar reeked of her. Her dance moves and the way her hips churned into mine. I could smell the coconut drinks permeating the air. It reminded me of the coconut-tainted lips I had kissed sloppily that night as we fell into her bed. Looking at the empty stage reminded me of the terrible band that played that horrible music we couldn’t stop dancing to.

  Everything about this place—the memories and the proximity—screamed Charlie. I looked at the seat across from me and imagined her sitting there, with her smile and her beautiful red hair and her thick, luscious cleavage. I felt my cock throb as I thought about her wearing no panties underneath the jeans she wore, that fabric being soaked with her juices before I shoved her against her door and devoured her.

  Holy fuck, she got off so beautifully for me. I wondered if Rick made her cum the way I could.

  I slammed back my first whisky on the rocks before I quickly downed another one. If I kept going at this rate, I’d never be able to get myself back to work. I’d have to call a cab to get me home, or crash in this chair until I could sleep it off. The lunchtime sunlight was pouring through the front windows of the bar, getting lost in the dust and cigarette smoke before it ever reached the back. I enjoyed the darkness of the corner I had found. It covered me from the harsh reality of the world as I drowned my sorrows in alcohol.

  While I drowned my memories in alcohol.

  While I drowned myself in alcohol as my memory drew upon the deep green pools of Charlie’s eyes.

  Even in the darkness of this corner, we still emerged as one. Even in the dank stench of this bar, I could smell her perfume as it beckoned to me all the way across the bar. Even above the loud, raucous roar of that terrible mariachi band, I could hear her sweet voice wafting lightly against my ear as we danced that night away.

  And if I listened very closely, I could still hear that little phrase echoing off the deep recesses of my dark, damaged soul.

  ‘I love you, too, L.’

  Two whiskeys weren’t going to drown out that sweet voice.

  Chapter 30

  Charlie

  I woke up Thursday morning after taking two extra days off and knew I couldn’t hide anymore. I had slept several nights on the revelation that I was pregnant, while dealing with the fact that I probably wasn’t going to hear from L. I wasn’t sure what had happened, and I wasn’t sure what I’d done, but I knew if I was going to get an audience with him I had to go into work. I had to pull on my big girl panties, find clothes that wouldn’t squeeze by upset my stomach, and try to hold back my nausea long enough to sit and talk with him.

  Even if this really was over between us, we still had to talk.

  I put myself together and found a flowing skirt in the back of my closet. It had an elastic waistband, which meant it shouldn’t cause me too many problems. I settled on a tight top in order to offset how flowing the skirt was, and maybe getting a nice look at my breasts like he used to enjoy would get him to at least let me into his office. My hands were shaking when I got to work, but I didn’t even stop to put my stuff down at my desk.

  I took my purse and my coat all the way up to his office, because if I didn’t do it now I knew I never would.

  When the elevator doors opened, the floor was eerily silent. His secretary was nowhere to be found, and for a split second I wondered if he was even here. I didn’t hear Michael’s voice, so he wasn’t in a meeting, but I didn’t hear him bitching about his absent secretary either.

  Had L even been coming to work?

  What the fuck was I thinking? Of course he was. He was Ellison James, real estate development tycoon and billionaire-playboy-philanthropist extraordinaire.

  Of course he was at work.

  I drew in a deep breath before I began walking down the hallway. With every step I took, it seemed as if the hallway was getting longer, and I had to steady myself against the wall before I rounded into his room. I felt another wave of nausea rising up in my throat, and for a split second I thought I was going to have to rush to the bathroom.

  But, I choked it down. I couldn’t let anything stand in the way of talking with L—even if it did end with me losing my job.

  Which I knew was a grave possibility.

  I walked into his office and his back was turned to the door. He was typing something into his computer before his movements ceased, and that’s when I knew he had clocked me coming in. Maybe he saw me in the reflection of his floor-to-ceiling tinted windows, or maybe he smelled my perfume.

  But he knew I was there, and I knew he knew.

  “Miss Charlene,” he said coolly.

  My heart broke in that very instant and I knew this wouldn’t be good. Part of me wanted to run from the room and never return. Part of me wanted to forget all of this—about L and how he treated me, about how good he was in bed and how wonderful it felt for him to tell me he loved me. I wanted to run to a clinic and get rid of this pregnancy, then move somewhere else to start my life anew.

  Fresh.

  All over again.

  “Is there something you need?” he asked.

  “What’s going on, L? You haven’t been returning my calls,” I said.

  “In this building, you will address me as nothing other than Mr. James,” he said.

  Fine. If that’s how he wanted to play this, then that’s exactly how I would play it.

  “Mr. James, if I could beg your audience,” I said patronizingly.

  “Mocking me will get you nowhere, Miss Charlene,” he said.

  “And ignoring me will get you no answers,” I said.

  “I require none. I already have all I need. You are free to go,” he said.

  “Not a chance, Mr. James,” I said. “I want to know what the hell is going on.”

  “Take a deep breath, Miss Charlene, and remind yourself with whom you are speaking,” he said.

  I felt anger bubbling in my gut. What the fuck kind of game was he playing?

  “Why were you not returning my phone calls? You said so yourself, we needed to talk. What gives?” I asked.

  “Why don’t you ask your boyfriend?”

  “I—thought I was?” I asked.

  “Cut the shit, Charlie,” he said, whipping around in his chair.

  The look in his eye took me aback, so much so that I took a step
back to the wall of his office. His blue eyes were lit with fire, blazing behind his furious irises as he burned a hole into my forehead. His hands were clasping his chair so hard that his knuckles were white, and for just a fraction of a second I saw a completely different person. His temple was throbbing and his body was shaking in this chair, and I had no idea why the hell he was so angry.

  “L, take a breath,” I said.

  “Stop playing with me, Charlie,” he said, standing up. “I know about Rick. I know about the live-in boyfriend and the way you yanked my chain. I know you were only after the monetary investment I promised to put into your career if this relationship ever came to light and destroyed your job here.”

  “L, what in the world are you—”

  “Shut up, Charlie!” he exclaimed as he steadily walked towards me. “I know.”

  “Well, I don’t. So, explain how the hell you know Rick,” I said.

  He stopped just a few steps shy of me and I could feel the angered heat reaching out from his body. Whatever had happened had stirred up something inside of him that I don’t think he had under control, and I instinctively splayed my hand over my belly button in a feeble attempt to calm my raging nerves.

  And to protect the child I had growing inside of me. A child that I still had to tell him about.

  “I came by your place Monday, the moment I was done talking with Michael. He knew, he followed us to the pier and saw us together, and I knew we needed to talk. But, you faltered in your little game, Charlie,” he said.

  “What game?” I asked. “L, what the hell are you—”

  “It’s Mr. James to you,” he said.

  “Whatever the fuck your name is, spit it out!” I exclaimed.

  “I knocked on your door and a goofy-looking guy by the name of Rick answered. Maybe you didn’t think he was coming by, or maybe you didn’t think I would actually come after you, but he was there.”

  “Rick was at my apartment?” I said. “Tall, blonde hair, blue eyes. Big bug eyes that make him look like a fly?”

  “The game is over, Charlie,” he said, “Give it up.”

  “There is no game, L! Rick isn’t my boyfriend!”

  I watched him study me intently before he took a step back. For a split second, I saw his eyes soften back to the L I knew. The kind, considerate, concerned L that I was hoping desperately to find when I walked into this office.

  But, it was short-lived, because the angry monster returned with his fiery eyes and his clenching fists.

  “He’s my ex. W—we, we dated back in college and he’s never been able to let it go. He’s the only person I know in the area because I came to work for your company right out of college and didn’t have any time to make friends. He comes around and annoys me. He was there when I got back from the grocery store Monday,” I said.

  His angry eyes darted to mine before he took a step towards me. I instinctively backed up, sinking myself against the wall as L followed every single movement I was making. His eyes stopped at my skirt, no doubt processing why my outfit was so different. He clocked every single tick of my face, probably trying to figure out whether or not I was lying.

  “I’m not lying to you, L,” I said. “He came by while I was at the store getting cat food for Johnson, and he said my front door was open. Apparently, I’d been too distracted by things to lock my door, and he just went on in. He’s not my boyfriend, L. You are. And he sure as hell doesn’t live with me.”

  I held his gaze no matter how scared I was of his current demeanor. I wasn’t going to allow a man like Ellison James to intimidate me to the point of tears, but I felt the nausea in my stomach growing. I slipped my hands behind my back, pressing them into the wall in an attempt to get them to stop shaking, and I slowly watched his face soften once again.

  And this time, it stayed soft.

  “You’ve gotta believe me, L. I would never do that to you,” I said breathlessly.

  “I don’t know what to—”

  The crack in his voice broke my heart. I knew he was done looking me over, and I knew he had determined I wasn’t lying. The kind of pressure he must’ve been under these past couple of days made me sick to my stomach, and I felt my knees grow weak as they began to shake underneath my skirt.

  “We really need to talk, L. There was something I discovered while I was at the grocery store,” I said.

  “And what is that?” he asked, as he turned his back to me.

  “Do you want the long version or the punch-line?” I asked.

  “I don’t give a shit, Charlie,” he said.

  “L, I’m—”

  “Ellison, we’ve got a problem.”

  Michael burst into the room and blew right past me as L whipped around on his heels. Gone was the attention I had, and now I was watching a frantic Michael wave a sheet of paper in the air.

  “What is it now, Michael?” he asked.

  “What the fuck happened with you and Sheila yesterday?” he asked.

  He slapped the sheet of paper down onto L’s desk while my head began to swim with that question. What did that mean? Why was Michael asking him about Sheila? What were the two of them getting into yesterday?

  “Michael,” L said, nodding towards me.

  I watched Michael turn his head toward me before his face fell. His eyes raked slowly up and down my body while a scowl of disgust slowly crawled across his lips, and I leaned my entire weight against the wall as I felt my face pale.

  “We’ll deal with her later. She’s no longer important,” Michael said, turning back to L. “But, this is.”

  “What the hell is this?” L asked.

  “The short of it? You’re being sued, L. For sexual harassment.”

  Chapter 31

  Ellison

  “Sued for sexual harassment? What the fuck do you mean?” I asked.

  “I mean, Sheila Brown—the VP of Sales—she says you sexually attacked her yesterday. She’s lawyered up and everything,” Michael said.

  “What the hell is this bullshit? I never fucking touched her,” I said.

  “What happened?” Michael asked.

  “She came in here with her bedroom eyes and her sashaying hips, pretended to trip over herself, and I grabbed her wrists before she hit the ground. I steadied her on her feet, tossed her wrists down, then proceeded to tell her that if she continued to come on to me, she’d be out of a job,” I said.

  “I’m surprised she’s not suing you for assault,” Mike said.

  “Which tells you she’s out for blood,” I said. “She’s pissed off because I’ve always rejected her advances, and told her I always will, and that makes a woman like her angry.”

  “What do you mean by ‘a woman like her’?”

  The question came from Charlie. I’d completely forgotten that she was standing in the corner looking idiotic in that dumpy skirt she had on. For the life of me, I couldn't figure out why the fuck she was dressed like that, but this was more important than her or me. I heard her story—every single word that came flying from her face—and I honestly didn’t know if I believed her or not. I didn’t know if she was telling the truth about Rick, or if I was going to get out of this lawsuit. I didn’t know if Charlie actually loved me, or if Sheila had fucking lost her mind.

  “A woman like her who is used to using her good looks and intelligence to get whatever she wants,” Michael said. “She does it in the boardroom, she probably does it in her private life, and she was probably expecting L—I mean, Mr. James—to fall down on his knees for her.”

  “Then she obviously doesn’t know him that well,” Charlie said. “He’s never been that kind of man, and he never will be.”

  “And how would you know that?” Michael asked.

  “Cut the shit. I know you know,” Charlie said.

  “We’ll deal with that later,” Michael said, as he pointed back at me. “Right now, this needs damage control. This whole situation with Sheila needs to be gotten under control. If this hits the press, it’s n
ot gonna matter that you were fucking around with an employee. This will be the focus, and this is much worse.”

  “I’m standing right here, Michael,” I said.

  “I’ll do damage control, alright? I’ll go have a talk with her,” I said.

  “Don’t you dare. Being in the same room with her caused this mess, and you confronting her will only make it worse,” Michael said.

  “Then I’ll shoot her an email,” I said.

  “Even worse. That creates a paper trail that could be used to manipulate you,” Michael said.

  “Then how the hell do you expect me to do damage control if I can’t address her?” I asked.

  “I don’t fucking know, L! Why the hell did you have to fuck your employee?” he asked.

  “What in the world do I have to do with this?” Charlie asked.

  “That’s actually a really good question. And, why haven’t you left yet, Charlie?” I asked.

  “Because I’m one tub of popcorn away from my next movie-length entertainment,” she said.

  “Approaching her fucks you over legally,” Michael said. “The best shot we’ve got is for me to try something. Unless you want to countersue.”

  “For what?” I asked.

  “False accusations and slander. Libel, if it hits the press before we get ahead of it,” Michael said.