Hang Em' Up: A Bad Boy Sports Pregnancy Romance

by Ashley Stewart

  “Miss Marisol Jones,” he announced.

  I waved to the seat across from me and she sat, smoothing her skirt as the maître d’ pulled her chair out for her.

  I stuck my hand out. “Hello, I’m Sally Baker. It’s so nice to finally meet you. Victor has gone on and on for days about what you’re going to be able do for us.”

  “Please, Ms. Baker, the pleasure is all mine,” she said, a beautiful smile widening across her face.

  “Oh, just call me Sally, if you don’t mind. The Baker will change back to Ardic soon enough, once the appeal is over tomorrow,” I said. If a small bit of smug satisfaction happened to creep into my voice, I didn’t notice.

  Marisol did, however. Her smile widened even further. “I see now why Victor wanted us to meet. He mentioned we had something in common,” she said.

  “Yes, he did say that,” I agreed. “However, the difference is that I got my man back,” I pointed out.

  “True enough,” Marisol admitted. “However, for a man who’s going to be married soon, he does spend a lot of time with a woman who is not his bride-to-be.”

  The waiter arrived to take our food order, preventing Marisol from continuing.

  “You see them together a lot? They work from the apartment? Not the school library, or somewhere…more public?” I asked the second the waiter left. My voice shook with the effort of keeping calm.

  “They work at home, yes. Sometimes in Danisha’s bedroom, even…” Marisol gave me a sly look.

  I slammed my fist on the table, rattling the chinaware. Heads turned to look at our table. “I knew it!” I violently whispered. “That bitch deserves everything she has coming to her. And to think, I felt bad about giving Victor her invention!”

  “You’re the one who took Danisha’s files?” Marisol asked incredulously.

  I stilled.

  “Did Victor say that?” I asked her cautiously.

  “No,” Marisol shook her head. “Multiple times I’ve overheard Adrian and Danisha trying to figure out who had given Victor the designs. Danisha mentioned you once or twice, but Adrian wouldn’t hear it,” Marisol whispered.

  I smiled to myself. Apparently, I didn’t need to worry about Adrian as much as I thought. He was still squarely in the palm of my hand. No matter how hard she tried, Danisha would never be able to steal him away from me. I sipped my drink, polishing it off. A waitress was walking by.

  “Excuse me,” I raised my hand to catch her attention. “I’m going to need another dry martini—no olives, and a…?” I looked at Marisol questioningly.

  “I’ll have the same, but make it dirty, please,” she requested.

  “To the Marisol’s and Sally’s in the world,” I said, raising my glass once the waiter had brought the drinks over. “May the Danisha’s never be able to tear us down,” I toasted. I brought the glass to my lips, and drank deeply.

  Chapter Six

  “Fuck…” I breathed slowly. I don’t think I moved in all the time it took Jackson and Marisol to get back from New York. I was still sitting in front of the camera equipment when they came in the door.

  Marisol’s bright blue eyes were shining. “We got it, everything. She spilled it all.”

  “I know,” I said thickly. My brain was moving particularly slow for some reason, and I couldn’t seem to kick it into gear.

  “Did you record it?” Jackson asked flatly. I flicked my eyes over at him. He also seemed to be a bit sluggish.

  “Yes,” I said flatly.

  I heard Marisol moving around in the kitchen. She soon reappeared with a bottle of champagne and three glasses. Quickly, she poured the champagne and handed us each a glass.

  “Come on!” she said when neither Jack nor I moved to drink. “We got her! The witch is dead. Drink up!” she exclaimed happily.

  Jack and I looked at each other. We both knew why we weren’t celebrating.

  “What do we tell Adrian?” Jack asked finally. I flinched at the sound of Adrian’s name.

  “He’ll be here tomorrow,” I said. “We need to figure out what we’re going to say. That is, if we still think we should say anything at all…” I added.

  Jackson and Marisol looked at me.

  “Why wouldn’t we tell him?” Marisol asked, confused.

  “Because it’s not our place. It’s his relationship and maybe we shouldn’t be meddling in it,” I shrugged, looking at the floor.

  “Listen, if you’re worried that Adrian will hate you for this or something—don’t. Adrian isn’t the type to kill the messenger,” Jackson said.

  “That’s not what I’m worried about…I just…I don’t want to be the girl that couldn’t let go, you know? I don’t want to be the ex that can’t move on. I do want to move on,” I sighed. I used to always have a cool head in relationships. I never allowed my emotions to cloud my judgment. My love for Adrian did exactly that. I never knew what the appropriate decision was anymore.

  “And I’m telling you, you’re not that girl. Adrian needs to know about this. You know you would want him to tell you if the situation were reversed, Danisha,” Jackson said.

  Jack was right. I would want to know if someone I thought I could trust was betraying me.

  “Okay,” I nodded. “We tell him tomorrow.”

  The next day when Adrian arrived, the first thing he did was ask to see the tapes of Marisol’s meeting with Victor and Iraja.

  “Excellent, great stuff, really,” he said when the tape was over. “It’s nothing we didn’t already have, but it’s always good to have extra ammunition.”

  He made to stand up, but Jackson placed his hand on Adrian’s shoulder. Adrian looked up at him questioningly.

  “There’s a little more to the tape,” Jack explained. “Marisol ended up going to the luncheon.”

  Adrian looked around at each of us. Seeing our solemn faces, he slowly turned back to the screen.

  “Is that…? Why is Sally sitting at…?” Adrian said confusedly when the maître d’ stepped out of the camera shot to reveal Sally as the mystery guest.

  Marisol turned away. I guessed she didn’t want to watch what was about to unfold. Jackson wrapped his arms around her, but his eyes remained on the screen. I was watching Adrian’s face. With each passing minute, his look grew harder and harder until I thought he was going to shatter into a million pieces.

  “Adrian…” I said quietly, touching his shoulder when the tape stopped. He flinched away from me.

  “You knew,” he said just as softly. “You and Jackson suspected her and you told me and I ignored you. Hell, I even ignored myself. I ignored my better judgment.”

  “You trusted someone you love above everyone else, I think that’s noble, if a bit naïve,” I said.

  “I love you,” Adrian said, sitting up sharply. “I could have decided to trust you over Sally, but I didn’t and I don’t know why. My reasoning has become skewed through the lens of history. It’s obvious she doesn’t have my best interests at heart, but you do, Danisha, don’t you?” he said looking up at me. Jackson and Marisol were also staring, waiting to see what my response would be.

  “I have all of my friends’ best interests at heart,” I said carefully. Just because I cared about what happened to Adrian didn’t mean that we should be together. There were still a myriad of issues keeping Adrian and I apart. Sally was only the tip of the iceberg.

  Adrian’s eyes grew cold. “Fine,” he spit. “Keep pretending, Danisha. Just don’t be surprised if I’m not here when you decide to come around.”

  He stood up and walked to the door.

  “Where are you going?” Jackson called after him.

  “To finish this,” Adrian said, slamming the door behind him.

  Chapter Seven

  I pulled out my phone, punching in Sally’s number furiously. I brought it up to my ear, each ring incensing my anger further and further. It went to voicemail.

  I called again. And again. Finally, on the fifth call, Sally answered.

  �
��Adrian, dear! Where’s the fire? I was at the spa. Don’t worry, I’ve got you-know-who footing the bill,” Sally laughed—a sound I used to delight in, but was now harsh and thin to my ears.

  “Well I guess you’re coming up all aces then, aren’t you, Sally?” I breathed heavily into the phone, anger tightening my chest.

  “What? What does that mean? Adrian?” Sally asked, confused.

  “It means I know,” I said. “I know everything, Sally. How could you do this? Why would you do this?”

  “…I have no idea what you’re going on about. Talk to me, Adrian. Tell me what’s happening,” she pleaded. I sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of my nose.

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about, Sally. I’m not an idiot, and, despite your rather terrible decision making skills these past few months, neither are you. The jig is up, so cut the shit and start talking,” I demanded.

  Sally was silent on the other line for so long I had to check to make sure the call was still connected.

  “How did you find out?” she finally asked.

  I laughed cruelly. “Does it matter? Just tell me why, Sally. That’s all I want to know.”

  “You want to know why?” Sally asked, suddenly fierce.

  “Yes, of course!” I shouted.

  “I did it for us! You said it yourself, Adrian: when you work too much, our relationship suffers.”

  “So you seek out my enemy’s help in sabotaging Danisha?! Where does that come in except for your petty need for a jealousy-fueled revenge?” I asked her.

  “She was coming between us, Adrian! And I already told you, Victor called me asking for my help in taking your business down. I agreed because I knew it was the only way for us to be together-”

  “Yeah, and when was that??” I accused her, “When did the lies start? Tell me the truth now, or I swear to God I’ll hang up this phone and you’ll be out on the street by the end of the day,” I threatened.

  Sally was once again playing the silent game. It was probably for the best that this was happening on the phone, or I would have started shaking her right then and there.

  “Sally!” I yelled.

  “From the beginning!” She shouted back, startled. “I’ve been in on it pretty much the whole time. I helped Victor figure out where Danisha would be on her way back to Colorado over the summer and I wrecked her car so she would stall on the highway. I just wanted her out of your life, and for you to give some of your business to Victor so that we could have time to be together! Victor’s been blackmailing me ever since. That’s why I gave him Danisha’s files. He asked for your client list, but even that wasn’t enough—he wanted more. I knew that would have ended things for your business for good, though, and I knew that would crush you, so when I found Danisha’s things, I thought it would be the perfect distraction for Victor. But then you started helping her and you were gone more than ever! Please, Adrian, understand…Everything I did was for us… I love you…” Sally sobbed softly on the other line.

  “Sally…” I sighed heavily. “That’s not what love is. You don’t get to decide all by yourself what’s best for the relationship, and then go behind my back to do it!”

  “I know. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, please forgive me,” she begged.

  I shook my head, not wanting to believe what I was about to do.

  “Look, Danisha’s appeal is tomorrow. It is not going to go well for Iraja and Victor. They’re likely going to be charged with fraud, and you will be charged as their accomplice because I’m going to tell them everything you just told me. And then you’re going to corroborate it. Do you understand?” I was not about to let Sally get away with what she had done, but I was going to do everything in my power to make sure she got the best deal possible.

  “What?? No! What is happening?! Adrian, I…I can’t go to jail!” she exclaimed.

  “I have to go prepare for my appeal, Sally. I’ll see you outside the courthouse tomorrow afterwards,” I didn’t wait for her response and I didn’t say goodbye either. I just hung up, unable to deal with her for a single second longer.

  ***

  I stared at the phone in my hand, horrified. Everything I had feared would happen was happening. Adrian had somehow found out I was the one who had given Victor Danisha’s files. I was going to go to jail. Probably a minimum-security prison, but still.

  I knew I was approaching full on panic mode. With no idea what else to do, I called Victor.

  “Sally, how are you?” he said when he answered. “I was just wondering when I should have everyone get together. Should we do it right after the appeal as a sort of celebration, or do we wait until the next day when things are a bit less hectic?”

  I barely heard Victor droning on about the powwow we were supposed to be having soon; I was too busy trying to figure out how to explain to him what had just occurred.

  “Victor, shut up,” I said, anxiously.

  “Excuse me?” he replied coldly.

  “Listen: something happened. Adrian knows,” I informed him

  “What do you mean, he knows?” Victor said slowly. “How much does he know? How did this happen? Sally, you had better explain yourself. Quickly!” he commanded.

  I was standing in the middle of a crowded sidewalk, with one hand plugging my opposite ear to block out the noise.

  “I don’t know what happened, Victor!” I shouted. “But from what I gathered, things are not looking good for the appeal tomorrow. They must have something—a video, some kind of hard evidence,” I explained.

  Victor didn’t say anything for a long time. I pushed my way out of the crowd to stand in an alcove.

  “Victor? Victor, what are you thinking?” I inquired.

  He still didn’t respond.

  “Victor, are you there?”

  “Yes, I’m here,” he said finally. His breathing was strained and ragged. “We have to go, Sally.”

  “Go…to the trial?” I asked him. I was confused.

  “No, not the trial,” he snapped. “We need to get out of the country. Fast. Now. Before it’s too late,” he growled.

  “Out of the country? Where? What about the trial? And Iraja?” I asked, still bewildered.

  Victor was muttering to himself, something about planes, and passports needing to be falsified.

  “Victor? Hello…?” he still didn’t respond.

  “Hey!” I shouted.

  “What?!” he barked at me.

  “What are you talking about? We can’t leave; if we run it will be worse.”

  “Sally, all the court wants is someone to take the fall. Now, Iraja’s name has been plastered all over this since day one. She’s going down, and she’s going down hard. So, if you and I leave, they won’t come looking for us because they’ll already have her. Or, at least, they won’t look very hard. We only have until the appeal tomorrow, and maybe not even then. We have to leave now. I’ll meet you at the airport in two hours.”

  Victor hung up without saying goodbye, leaving me once again staring at my phone with no idea what to do.

  Chapter Eight

  I stood outside the courthouse, staring up the ornate gargoyles perched on top of the entrance pillars. My heart thrummed with nervous energy.

  I was going to win my life’s work back today.

  Unless… My treacherous brain thought. I shoved that cynical, pessimistic part of me aside. I wasn’t going to allow my worries to consume me. I needed to keep it together.

  I felt a hand slide into mine, gripping it firmly. I looked over to see Adrian smiling down at me. I squeezed his hand back in appreciation.

  Taking a deep breath, I began to climb the steps to the courthouse.

  Adrian and I sat on a bench while we waited for Iraja to appear. I had insisted on us getting here at least two hours ahead of time. I didn’t know of anything that might have delayed us, but I wasn’t taking any chances today.

  Adrian was the complete opposite. He was totally composed to the point of zoning out. A couple o
f times I had to tap his shoulder to get his attention. His eyes seemed to drift aimlessly about the courthouse.

  An hour and a half later, I heard the sharp click of stilettos coming down the marble hallway. It was Iraja looking particularly smug. My heart dropped a little. She seemed so confident—was there something we didn’t know?

  We filed into the courtroom where Judge Thompkins was once again overseeing the case. “Ms. Carter, you’re refiling your appeal rather soon, don’t you think?” the judge said casually as he settled into his chair.

  I opened my mouth to answer, but Judge Thompkins waved his hand, cutting me off.

  “That was rhetorical, Ms. Carter, but in all sincerity, I do hope that you have something particularly good to share today. It would not serve you well to waste this court’s and my personal time with something circumstantial.”

  I slowly closed my mouth, feeling less confident than ever.

  “She does, Your Honor,” Adrian’s voice rang out confidently in the courtroom. He looked down at me and gave me a small, encouraging nudge with his elbow.

  “We got this,” he whispered to me. “Your Honor, I would like to enter three videotapes into evidence,” Adrian said as he stood.

  “And what are these tapes of?” the judge asked, looking over his glasses.

  “Ms. Puri and two associates openly discussing the theft of my client’s invention, the EyeRead.”

  Thankfully, it was a closed courtroom; otherwise, there would have been a riot. Iraja knocked over her water pitcher in surprise, shattering the glass and completely soaking her notes. The bailiff rushed over to help clean up the broken shards while Iraja attempted to put her things back in order.

  “Your-your honor, this is preposterous. Mr. Ardic can’t enter evidence into custody whenever he likes; it must go through the proper channels. We don’t even know if those tapes are real! They might be doctored,” Iraja protested.

  “The tapes were recorded in Ms. Puri’s own business headquarters; if she would like to enter her own security tapes as contesting evidence, we would have no problem with such a thing. We are also more than willing to submit the tapes to the court for whatever testing they deem necessary,” Adrian said easily, smoothing his tie as he spoke.