Big Bad Boss

by Amy Faye

  A few minutes later the Judge returns. The bailiff repeats his intonation a third time. “All Rise.”

  We do. The judge gives permission to be seated, and we are seated. From the peanut gallery, it’s a little hard to see with any certainty; there’s too much between me and the bench. But it looks like his expression is a troubled one. Mr. Spencer settles back into his seat.

  His expression is not troubled.

  “We’re missing someone,” Judge Cartwright says. The Bailiff steps forward and leans over the bench. He says something. It’s probably along the lines of there was an altercation and we had him removed. The judge nods.

  “Alright, well, if we’re not waiting for anyone to return, then I’m going to make a ruling.”

  “Your honor,” Jasper says. It’s impulsive and foolish, and if he weren’t a civilian sitting in where there really ought to be a lawyer, he would be almost certainly held in contempt. Judges tend to have a certain leniency for outbursts from people who represent themselves, though. They’re usually too dumb to know any better.

  “Sit down, Mr. Blunden, and listen.”

  Jasper’s body stiffens. “You’re right, your honor. I’m sorry for my outburst.”

  “Thank you. Now. Mr. Spencer: movement for dismissal granted. Mr. Blunden?”

  Jasper and his brother both rise. I can’t see Jasper’s face, but I know he’s frustrated. I can see it in the set of his shoulders. But he holds himself up by the table and doesn’t speak.

  “You’re absolutely right. This is highly irregular. But I don’t hear any arguments coming from your side that there’s going to be evidence that your father was insane when he wrote the will, and frankly, with cases like this, I would want to hear about that up front. But furthermore, if you’ll permit me to be so bold: I will say that you’re not seeing things with the benefit of hindsight.”

  “Thank you, your honor,” Jasper says. His tone says that he’s not thankful. But it’s something, at least. I don’t know if I ought to tell him now, or I ought to wait until we get home. But I know one thing, he’s not going to like the fact that I kept it from him.

  The car ride on the way home is silent. The biggest part of the silence is his side. I’m waiting for him to say something. To come at me with his complaints. I’ve got no problem listening to them. He’s probably right to be upset, particularly since he hasn’t seen the test sitting in my jacket pocket. He hasn’t seen the ultrasound photos sitting beside it.

  “Everything’s going to be fine,” I say softly.

  Jasper’s eyes rake across me. His scowl deepens. “It’s not fine,” He growls. His voice softens as he continues. “But I appreciate the thought, at least.”

  “Of course.” I should tell him. This is the moment. But I let it pass. Not until we’re home. We pull into the subdivision, past the sign. Through the gate. Then we start the slow crawl up the hill, through the most circuitous possible route.

  The car starts to pull into the driveway. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I wanted to get you out of this mess, but…”

  “Don’t worry about it too much.”

  He lets out a long breath. “You’re too good to me. After all I’ve done to you, and you’re still being good to me.”

  “I know. It’s a personal weakness.”

  He closes his eyes and shuts the engine off.

  “You’re in a good mood.”

  “The judge was right, you know.”

  “What?”

  “The judge. He was right. ‘You’re not looking at this with the benefit of hindsight.’”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  I reach into my pocket and wrap my fingers around the test. It’s going to be hard to explain to him why I kept it from him. But hopefully…

  My hand comes out of my pocket.

  “Give me your hand,” I say. He holds a hand out, and I put the plastic strip in his hand. He looks at it.

  Then, after a moment, his face twists up in confusion, and he looks at it harder. He looks at me.

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Not kidding at all. Is this okay?”

  He lets out a long breath and lays his head back. “Okay? Of course it’s not ‘okay’, Cait.”

  I can feel my eyes growing hot in an instant, the moment since he said the words. “What do you mean?”

  “What I mean is, you’re making a big mistake. You’ve been making a big mistake, and I’ve been pushing you to make them. But I’m not going to let you keep doing it. You deserve to be free of me, and I’m going to make sure that you get to have it.”

  He steps out of the car before I can say another word, and when I try to continue, I find that all the air has blown out of my sails. I’m too tired to open the car door, and I’m not about to let Jasper Blunden, of all fucking people, see me cry.

  Not if I can help it, anyways. The door to the house stays closed, and he doesn’t come back out, and at least once today, I got my wish. Happy birthday to me.

  Nineteen

  Jasper

  I’m sorry. It doesn’t count for anything if all I do is keep it in my head, but I am sorry. And for better or worse, I’m not ready to talk to Cait about it. She’s making the biggest mistake of her life, thinking that she can have my child. After everything I’ve done to her? She ought to get a congressional medal, not tie herself down to me.

  So until I know that I’ve exhausted all my options, I’m not going to do anything. I’m not going to say anything. It might hurt her, and it might hurt me, but she’ll be better off without me. That much, at least, is obvious.

  The phone, jammed into the crook of my neck, starts to ring on the other end. One ring. Two rings. Three. I let out a breath and press my foot down on the accelerator more firmly.

  “Richard Spencer, Personal attorney’s office.”

  “Hello, this is Jasper Blunden…”

  “Mr. Blunden? I’m sorry, but Mr. Spencer isn’t out, and I’m under instructions not to take any messages.”

  “Do you know when he’ll be back?”

  “Not at this time, no,” she says.

  “Then I’ll wait.”

  “I don’t know if that’s wise.”

  The secretary on the other end of the line makes a stern effort to convince me that I shouldn’t come in. But I’m not an idiot. I’m not going to let anyone get in my way, and I’m certainly not going to let anyone tell me whether I can or can’t speak to my father’s lawyer.

  The whole scheme from beginning to end stunk. I don’t like any of it. But I’m going to get my answers, at some point, so help me God. And then, at the end of it, I’m going to make sure that some way or another, I’m going to make sure that Cait gets out of this made whole again for everything I did to her.

  Into the office building again. The guy behind the desk gives me a pass, even if the secretary didn’t want me up there. Some things, I guess, go better than expected.

  The elevator runs smoothly. More smoothly than I recall it running, as if they’ve been recently serviced. Good for them, I guess. Welcome to the new millennium.

  A beep sounds through the whole thing, and I’m stepping out into the offices before I stop to think about it. There’s no time to think about any of this, because once I do, I’ll start telling myself that I just have to keep quiet another six months, let Cait give birth to my child, and then I’m in the money. Free and clear.

  After the outburst in the courtroom, I don’t know how Art and Katja are going to be doing, but I can’t imagine that it’s going to be a great relationship.

  Still, the promise of money might keep them together long enough to get to payday. Finding out that Cait’s pregnant might throw a wrench into their dreams and plans.

  But if I can get some sort of private negotiation finished, then I’m happy. At least, I’m happy enough.

  Behind me, the elevator sounds, and a man walks past. He fits a key into the door and I suddenly realize that even from behind, I recognize the retreatin
g back.

  “Mr. Spencer!”

  He turns and looks at me flatly.

  “So court failed you, and now you want to try again privately?”

  My lips press together into a thin line. “I’m not going to say I’m not. Can we speak privately?”

  “Of course,” he says, with a defeated tone. “Give me just a few minutes to get my things settled.”

  I settle down into my seat, and I wait. It occurred to me when he said it that he could just never come for me. If I wait here all day, he can just leave, tell me to come back tomorrow, and refuse to see me every day that he wants to. But I’m not going to give up, even if I should have already given up.

  The whole scene in court pretty much told me everything that I should already have learned. I take a deep breath. Oh well. There’s more to it than just that, I guess. There’s plenty to learn. And plenty that I need to figure out how to do better.

  “Mr. Blunden?”

  Spencer looks tired. I remind myself that I’m not here to argue with him. Not here to insist anything. I’m here to throw myself on his mercy, and hope that things work out for my wife. Nothing else.

  “I’m sorry to bother you like this,” I offer.

  He shrugs. “Your father was a good client.”

  “Even still, I appreciate your help.”

  He opens the door to the office at the end, marked with his name, and closes it behind us.

  “What did you need?”

  “I’ve got some good news, and some bad news.”

  “What’s that?”

  “My wife. She’s pregnant.”

  “That’s good news. For you, I suppose. I’m sorry if I don’t sound very congratulatory. I’m very tired.”

  “And the bad news is, I’m a terrible husband. I’m going to make a terrible father, too. I was probably a terrible son, though I didn’t have much to work with.”

  “I’m listening,” the lawyer says. “But don’t you think this is something for a therapy session?”

  “And that’s why I’m asking you to make sure that whatever happens, Caitlynn and her baby are taken care of.”

  The lawyer nods thoughtfully. “Okay, then. Let’s take a look at the will.”

  Twenty

  Cait

  My head hurts. I should have gone downstairs earlier. If I had some water, and I had a few pills, then I would probably be absolutely fine.

  But there’s nobody down there. I don’t want to leave the bed. I don’t really know why, and I don’t want to think about whether or not it’s related to the baby, because at some point I’m going to have to admit that what I’d hoped for isn’t going to happen.

  Jasper’s not going to come around. He’s not going to be happy that he’s going to be a father. He’s not going to suddenly decide that he likes me after all, and he wants to make amends. That’s just not going to happen.

  There’s a noise outside. Maybe I ought to investigate it. But I don’t. I don’t want to. If I could bring myself to leave the bed, I’d have done it by now, to get the water. But what’s the point of it? What’s the point of any of this?

  There’s another noise. Louder. Closer. This time it’s easier to identify the sound of a door closing. Car door, I assume. That will probably be Jasper coming back.

  I don’t know what the speech is going to be, but I know he’s going to have a speech. There’s going to be a big old thing about how I’m stuck with him, and he’s stuck with me, and I get to have the money at the end. As if any of that matters any more. I don’t just get to think about myself, like things are going to be just fine no matter what I do so I might as well enjoy it.

  I’m a mother now. I’m still months and months away from having a baby in my arms, but a baby in my belly means that I have to think about what that child needs. I have to think about what’s good for her. Or him. Not just a quick fuck in the back of a car and the money I can make from it.

  The next logical sound, no surprise, is the sound of the door opening. I wait in the bed.

  “Cait?” His voice is loud enough that I don’t have any trouble hearing it, even from the other side of the house. But I’m not interested in answering. I’m too tired, and I’m too upset, and maybe for once he’s going to have to do some work for himself.

  Footsteps tromp around the house. He can’t even be bothered to move quietly. He just found out his wife is pregnant, and she’s barely been sleeping for a month now to figure out how to get a legal brief together without more than a scrap of legal knowledge between them.

  Don’t I deserve to get a little sleep?

  The steps reach the stairs, and start climbing up. The gait is strange, and it takes me a while in my cat-nap to realize why. There’s not just one pair of feet making the steps.

  “Cait? Are you awake?”

  Jasper steps inside the bedroom and I make a point of rolling over to face away from him.

  “Let me sleep.”

  “I will. You need to get some rest. But I thought you’d want to know.”

  “What? You managed to beat Spencer into submission?”

  “Not quite.” A third voice. I know it, but only dimly. I turn over and push myself up in bed.

  “What’s going on?”

  Rich Spencer’s expression is tight-lipped. “You feeling alright, Mrs. Blunden?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “My dad, uh… played a little trick on us,” Jasper says softly. “All of us.”

  “Oh.”

  “Would you like me to give you the relevant details?” In Mr. Spencer’s hand is a folder. The same one that had fallen out of the yellow envelope, I think. He flips it open and then looks up at me as if he’s seriously waiting.

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “I do apologize. I really wouldn’t have done this if it were my choice.”

  “Done what? You’re not making any sense. Jasper, can this wait?”

  “Second part,” he intones, like he’s practiced this. “Section six. It is my personal and private opinions that I have failed as a father. I have raised three unconscionable brats, and I have no intention of leaving them any money, property, or estate whatsoever. They shall have a year in which to settle their affairs before they are cut off from it.”

  I blink, and look at Jasper. He looks solemn, but I’m surprised to see that he doesn’t look at the edge of losing his mind over this, which is a surprise. He should be; I know that I would. If I were made to labor under the belief that I was going to be inheriting, and then suddenly the rug were pulled out, I’d be livid. Luckily, my parents left no will, and no assets to their name. At least, it’s sort of lucky.

  “I don’t understand.”

  The lawyer continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “The exception to this rule, if there is to be an exception, shall be if one of my impossible sons should find it within his heart to give up his inheritance of his own will, without knowing of any of my machinations. In such case, his portion of the estate shall be immediately and totally given to the person, group, or cause to which he chose to surrender it.”

  I blink.

  “I still don’t understand.”

  “I went to the lawyer,” Jasper said softly. “Because you ought to be free of me. You’re a mother now, and you have to think about your child. Our child. You need to find yourself a better place, a better man, a better life than the one you’ve had with me. I want you to stay, but… I have to make the right decision for you.”

  “So… the money is mine?”

  “And the company,” the lawyer says. “You have sole control of both.”

  “And… is that contingent on…”

  “Unconditionally.”

  I look at Jasper. “And this is all because you thought I would be better off without you?”

  “Because I’m right that you’d be better off without me,” Jasper answers.

  “You big idiot,” I growl. It takes a lot of energy and just as much strength, but I throw myself out of bed and wrap my arms arou
nd him and bury my head in his chest. “I’d be better off with you. You may be an idiot, but I love you either way. I wouldn’t leave for all the money in the world. Now, do you want to see these ultrasound pictures, or are you going to run off again?”

  He blinks and looks confused at me. And then my face breaks into a grin.

  “What, you thought I just tested positive today or something?”