“What?” I yelp, my chest caving in, the room spinning.
“It’s not mine, Alison.”
“Are you sure? Who is she? I. . . .”
“Her name is Lacy McKay, a girl I used to see off and on. I haven’t been with her in months, so this baby isn’t mine.” His voice is so cool, so clinical, that I don’t know how to process it.
I fall onto the sofa, squeezing my eyes shut. Taking a deep breath and blowing it out, all I can do is laugh a sad, resigned chuckle.
“This is an easy fix,” he hisses. “I’ll take a paternity test when the kid gets here and prove it isn’t mine.”
“But until then? What if it is?”
“Alison—it’s not. She asked for a sizable check this afternoon. She just wants money.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m not paying her for shit because it’s garbage. What can she do? Go to the tabloids? And then what? Find out the baby’s not mine when it’s born and she’ll look like the bitch she really is?”
I try to clear my head and keep my wits about me when I really want to run into my room and cry. My life a few hours ago was exactly where I wanted it to be. How quickly things can change.
He blows out a breath. “Look, she doesn’t think I’ll call her bluff. She thinks I’ll pay her off and she can ride into the sunset or I will profess my undying love to her. I don’t know. But neither option is happening.
“Oh, Barrett,” I say, feeling sick. “I’m so sorry.”
“Me fucking too.” He clears his throat, his voice softening but not losing the sharpness. “I have to go get ready for this thing. Can I call you tonight? It’ll be late. This thing goes on for fucking ever.”
“Yeah. Sure. I’m working at Luxor ‘til nine or so, then I’ll be home.”
He doesn’t try to convince me not to go to work, he doesn’t tell me to be careful or to think of him like he usually does. Instead, he takes a deep breath and says, “I’ll call you later, babe.”
“Okay. Try to have a good night, Barrett.”
And the line goes dead.
Alison
The late afternoon sun has lost its warmth as I pull into the parking lot of the location of tonight’s catering job. Luxor’s vans are parked by the curb and I spot Lola’s car in the back of the lot by Isaac’s. I pull in beside her, get out, and walk briskly to the back door.
This afternoon has thrown me for a loop. I hate this nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach that everything is falling apart, that things aren’t capable of ending well. It just drums up so many bad feelings that I find myself wanting to vomit every few minutes.
“Mrs. Baker, did you see photos on Malarky’s website? Did you see your husband snorting cocaine off a prostitute’s tits?”
“Mommy, why did Daddy leave us? Doesn’t he love me anymore?”
“You’re a worthless piece of shit, Alison. You have nothing to offer a man like me.”
My stomach rolls right along with the memories.
I walk around the side of the van and stop dead in my tracks. A woman is standing on the curb, a Cheshire cat-like smile carved on her glossy lips. She’s beautiful—tanned skin and long, blonde hair. When she sees me, she turns to face me.
“You’re Alison, aren’t you?” she asks.
The disdain is undeniable in her tone, poison leaking off of each syllable. I throw my shoulders back and take a deep breath. “Yes, I am.”
Keeping my head up, I quicken my pace, but she steps in front of me.
“I’m Lacy McKay,” she voices, loud enough so that I can’t pretend I didn’t hear her. “I thought we should meet.”
The air around us changes, sweeps from a normal fall evening to one of a horror movie. She can tell I know who she is because she smirks. That one little movement in the right corner of her lips changes everything.
“I don’t see why.” I’m stopped, unable to go forward without physically running into her, and I’m not giving her that. I narrow my eyes right along with hers.
She laughs a high-pitched squeak that makes me cringe. “Oh, honey, don’t act like you don’t know who I am.” Her palm presses flat against her stomach, her eyes narrowing. “And that I’m having Barrett’s baby. You did know that, right?”
Even though I knew this was coming and I know it’s false, or that Barrett says it’s false, still, it knocks the wind out of me. The thought of the possibility of Barrett’s child in her stomach makes my entire body shiver, my entire self ready to come out of my skin.
I hate the smug look on her face. I loathe the entire concept behind this. I abhor being in this situation to begin with.
Still, I can’t let her win. “Oh, honey,” I say, giving her words back to her, “you can’t get pregnant from fucking him in your dreams.”
Her mouth drops open, and I soak up the small victory. She gets herself together much more quickly than I anticipate. “No, but you can get pregnant when he fucks you on his desk in the Mayor’s office, can’t you?” She takes another step closer, looking down at me from the good two inches she has on me. “It’s just as well that you know now and can leave him before all of this comes out. He’s never going to be with you anyway. I mean, shouldn’t that be obvious to you by now? You’re going into work,” she says, making a face, “in there. If he were serious about you—”
“If he were serious about you,” I bite out, “you wouldn’t be in my face tonight.”
She takes a step towards me, her breath hot on my face. “Guess where he is right now.”
“Working, just like I need to be,” I say, trying to take a step around her. “Now if you’ll take your pathetic ass out of my way . . .”
She blocks my path. “He’s with Daphne Monroe.”
The pleasure she gets in informing me of this isn’t lost on me. Her pupils shine with absolute delight.
I try to temper my reaction, not let my features show the surprise I feel, the blip of shock that’s sitting right in the center of my core. “If that were true—”
“Oh, it’s true,” she snickers. “Pull it up online. It’s her on his arm in front of the city tonight. Not. You.”
I make myself laugh, even though I don’t feel anything of the sort. But I want to make her feel stupid . . . and me feel stronger. “Well, it’s not you either. So that makes you, what? At least number three on his list and you’re supposedly carrying his child. What’s that say about you?”
“You little . . .” She huffs a breath, her eyes blazing. “You think your shit doesn’t stink, don’t you?”
“Nice imagery,” I snort. “Very classy. Now if you’ll excuse me . . .”
As I’m walking around her, she grabs my shoulder. It throws me off balance and I stumble, just as her hand smacks me across the face.
“Ah!” I yelp, my cheek stinging from the contact. I turn quickly only to see her falling into the van behind her.
“You hit me!” she screams, her voice piercing the autumn air. “Someone help me!”
I can’t move, frozen in place by the unbelievability of the situation. Shock stiffens my body, even though my brain tells me to run. I feel a hand on my arm, men’s voices speaking, and my body being guided into the building.
The cool air hits my face, and I regain my bearings enough to see Lola running at me. Isaac is standing next to me, his arm on mine.
“Are ya okay?” he asks, his large brown eyes searching mine.
“I . . . I think,” I stumble, my arms stretching for Lola. Collapsing into her, hearing her shout directions at Isaac and then to Mr. Pickner, the tears flow freely. All of the emotion of the day pours out of me with reckless abandon.
“What happened out there?” Mr. Pickner bellows.
“Some girl attacked her,” Isaac says.
My face is buried in Lola’s shirt, soaking it. She pats my hair and holds me tight.
“Shit,” my boss hisses. “We don’t need this kind of publicity.”
“Are you seriously worried
about that right now?” Lola barks. “She’s a mess!”
“She is not my problem. My business is. I don’t need a bunch of fucking camera trucks here wanting to get the scoop on the Mayor’s fuck buddy.”
“I can’t believe you,” Lola gasps. “What kind of man are you?”
“Not much of one,” Isaac chips in from behind me. “You call her something like that again, and you’ll be picking yourself up off the floor. You got it?”
“Is this over your boyfriend?” Mr. Pickner asks, scowling.
“My . . . what?” I ask, lifting my face and drying my eyes with the end of my shirt. I feel like I’ve been beaten with a whip and it has nothing to do with Ms. Third Place out there. The toll of the day, this life, has gotten to me. And I feel it everywhere.
“This spectacle you just caused—was it over Landry?”
His eyes are cool, his jaw set hard. He watches me with contempt, and I thank God I’m not alone with him because I don’t trust him. Not at all.
“Yes,” I sniffle.
His head shakes subtly, his eyes narrowing. “I’m going to suggest you give me your notice and get the hell out of here. If anyone asks, you were coming in tonight to quit.”
“What?” I say, standing straight. “I need this job! I don’t want to quit.”
“You are a liability to me, Alison. Think of how this will look for me, won’t you?” He chuckles. “Think about how that,” he bites out, nodding through the door, “will look for Landry. Do you think that’s going to help his public image?”
The realization of the words pummels me. My hand shakes as Lola takes it in hers.
“What Landry will care about, Pickner, is that you just fired her for no reason. I wouldn’t want to be you when shit hits the fan.”
He shrugs. “If you could please escort her out of here, I’d appreciate it.”
“You can take your party tonight and shove it straight up your sweaty ass-crack,” Lola fires back.
“You know what,” Isaac says, looking down at our boss. “Lola and I will walk her out and neither of us will be back in. And you can bet when I’m interviewed about what happened out there tonight, I’ll make sure I tell everyone what happened in here as well.”
“Isaac . . .”
“Fuck you, Jim,” Isaac says, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. “May God be with you when Landry finds out what you’ve said tonight.” He looks down at me and smiles kindly. “Let’s get out of here.”
I look around his shoulder to see if anyone is on the sidewalk, but it’s clear. I sigh a breath of relief.
Isaac smiles so sweetly, yet with a touch of ferocity, that I nearly kiss him. “Thanks, Isaac.”
“Anytime. Now let’s get you home in one piece.”
Alison
THE WATER IS COOL AS I splash it on my face. I pump some soap on my hands and wash off the make-up from what was supposed to be a night at work and clean everything away.
I just wish the memories were that easy to remove too.
Lola stands in the doorway of my bathroom and watches me. “Should we file a police report or something?”
“I don’t know,” I groan, patting my face dry. It feels swollen from the tears I cried as Lola drove me home. “I have no fucking idea what to do.”
“Isaac saw everything. He said he ran across the parking lot to get to you as quickly as he could.”
“Where is he now?” I ask, knowing he drove Lola’s car behind us.
“I asked him to wait outside. I thought you’d need some privacy.”
My shoulders ache, my head throbs, and all I want to do is go to bed and cry myself to sleep. There’s so much to process, to think through, that I don’t even know where to begin.
“What did she say to you?” Lola asks.
“That Barrett was with Daphne tonight,” I say simply, trying to wrap my mind around it.
“That makes sense though,” Lola says.
“And that she’s pregnant with his baby,” I mutter.
“What the ever-loving fuck?”
“He told me she was making a claim. He says it’s not true.”
“Oh, it better not be true!”
I nod, closing my eyes. As soon as I do, vivid memories of being surrounded by cameras in New Mexico, accusations being shouted, slam into me and I feel like I can’t breathe.
Lola takes my arm and helps me to the sofa where I sit and try not to hyperventilate.
“You’re having a panic attack, I think,” she says, handing me a cool washcloth. “Here. Put this on your head or something.”
“Did you guys seriously just quit for me?” I ask, fighting the rise in panic. Guilt starts to take over, adding to the panic and I struggle to sit up, but Lola puts a hand on my shoulder.
“We did. But that’s nothing for you to worry about. Odds are he’ll be calling us to come back to work by next week and we’ll just demand a raise,” she winks.
I’m not sure if that’s true or not, but I choose to go with it. I need the reprieve from one of the burdens on me right now.
“I do think maybe you need to call the police,” she says. “Just to be sure.”
“But do I want to even bring them into it? I mean, that puts it on record.” I lean my head back and place the washcloth on my face. “If I ignore it, maybe she will too.”
Lola thinks about it, popping a piece of gum in her mouth. “I think you should try to get ahold of Barrett.”
“He’s at that event. With Daphne.” The thought rolls my stomach, makes bile rise quickly. “I probably can’t get him anyway.”
“Try it. I really think you should. Someone in his campaign needs to know what happened in case he’s asked about it. You know how fast word travels, Ali. Be smart. Use your head, not your heart.”
I sit up, knowing she’s right and feeling stupid not thinking about it sooner. I grab my phone and dial Barrett. It rings three times before it’s answered. My heart leaps in my chest as I wait for him to speak.
“Hello?” a voice asks, but it’s not Barrett. I pull the phone away from my face to make sure I’ve dialed the right number.
“I’m trying to find Barrett Landry. This is Alison Baker.”
“He’s occupied right now, Ms. Baker,” a man says.
“There’s no way I can speak with him?”
“No, there isn’t. He’s in the Garalent Gala with Ms. Monroe right now. I believe they’re eating dinner as we speak.”
“I . . .” I’m thrown for a loop, not expecting that. “Who am I talking to?”
“I’m sorry. This is Nolan, Mr. Landry’s Chief-of-Staff. I apologize for my lack of manners this evening.”
“Can you tell Barrett I called?” I squeak. I don’t feel comfortable with this guy, not comfortable enough to tell him about my night or clue him into anything. Something’s wrong, I feel it.
“I wanted to talk to you anyway, Ms. Baker, and thank you for doing your part in this campaign. You’ve done a splendid job, more than I ever expected.”
“Excuse me?”
“Not many women would’ve been up for the challenge of playing the part of the Mayor’s girlfriend like you have. It’s benefitted his campaign immensely to look like a benefactor to you and your kid. You’ve helped us fortify his reputation, and I can’t thank you enough. You can be assured we’ll cut you a check for your services once the campaign is over.”
Tears hit my eyes again, his words echoing Daphne’s. I feel so used, that everything has been dual-purpose because I do believe Barrett likes me. But was this angle factored into it?
The tears fall harder after I look up at the television screen that Lola has just turned on. Barrett is on the screen, looking devilishly handsome in a navy suit and deep red and white tie. And beside him, looking as regal as the mayor himself, is Daphne Monroe.
She tilts her head to the side, her arm around his waist, and flashes him a wide smile. I can’t see his face from that angle, but the display is enough to make me sick.
I don’t respond to Nolan. I can’t. I just end the call and run to the bathroom hoping to make it before I vomit on the floor.
Barrett
My face hurts from the pseudo-smile plastered across my cheeks. I don’t let it slip despite the discomfort because if I allow a crack in the veneer, I know I won’t be able to get it back. Although I’ve had to fake it a million times before, I’ve never had to put it on like this.
A man that’s been waiting to talk to me for over an hour finally makes his way to my table. My food is untouched, my wine still full, as I gather my wits to entertain another possible voter.
Every part of me wants to leave, not a single thread of entertainment or desire to be here exists. I typically enjoy these little events. But not tonight.
Tonight I want to be at a little house across town, sitting on a tattered sofa in sweatpants, making sure Huxley is okay. I want my arm wrapped around Alison, my eyes on Hux as he sits on the little black beanbag chair in the corner he loves, and ensure that they are well and happy. Instead, I’m sitting at this ridiculous event waiting on the bald-headed man to approach my table.
“How are you, Mr. Landry?” he asks, extending his hand. We shake and I steady my features.
“Good, thank you. How are you?”
He begins chatting away about a project important to his district, just like everyone does. I try to zero in on what he’s saying, gather a fuck or two, but when Daphne’s arm lies against my shoulder and I hear her high-pitched laugh beside me, all my efforts dissolve.
My head feels like it’s going to explode and I scan the room for Nolan. Every minute that passes, every second that ticks, is another moment I’ve gone through this charade.
Looking at Daphne by my side, not Alison, it swamps me how ridiculous this is. How ridiculous I am. Is this what I’ve turned out to be?
“If you can excuse me,” I say to baldy, “I have something I need to take care of.”
“No worries, Mayor. I just wanted to extend my congratulations on a job well done. Savannah will hate to lose you to the state, but it’s with pride we watch you go.”
Sway (Landry Family #1) Page 25
