by Sophia Gray
Ethan grinned. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hoping to get his attention.”
Marta was quick to take the chance. “And what would you say to Representative Stratton if you knew that he was watching?”
Ethan paused for a moment, and then looked directly into the camera. “That there’s more to a person than what they’re interested in. Most motorcycle clubs are good places with good people who just like bikes. I’d also say thank you, I guess.”
“Thank you?” Marta repeated. “That’s an odd stance, given his tax increases on clubs like yours.”
“Yeah, but without it, I’d probably up to my elbows in grease in my garage today.” He glanced around. “Instead, I get to see our community turn out to support a great cause. That’s my secretary over there with his daughters. That’s my treasurer trying to win his girl a stuffed animal and sucking at it.” He gave Marta another grin, this one positively mischievous. “We’re all regular guys. We’re accountants, we’re doctors, lawyers, cops, mechanics.” He shrugged. “And we’re all congregating, which is apparently dangerous in Representative Stratton’s eyes, but I don’t think anyone here feels too scared of the big bad biker guys.”
Marta laughed. “I’d have to agree,” she said as the camera panned away from them and Amelia finally got a good glimpse of the festival. It was extremely crowded despite the heat, teeming with people playing games. Others were eating funnel cakes and cotton candy, there were kids squealing and shrieking with laughter in the bounce houses, and guys in vests with the Angel’s Keepers patches on them talking to veterans.
When the camera swooped back to Ethan and Marta, the reporter said, “So there you have it, Nevada. Come on down to the community park and meet the guys! I hear The Angel’s Keepers is even taking new recruits, in Stratton you’re feeling rebellious enough to do some good today.”
The next story came on, leaving Amelia to stare blankly as the weatherman prattled on. Ethan had looked so good with his vest hugging those broad shoulders. His tee shirt had been white today, showing off his tan to its best advantage and making her feel weaker than she already did.
Had that reporter been flirting with him? Amelia bit her thumbnail. She had. She’d remained professional, but there’d clearly been a bit of attraction.
More importantly, though, had Ethan been flirting back? Even if he had, what claim did she have on him? None. And her father had ruined whatever hold a one-night stand would have offered anyway. Maybe hehad been flirting with the gorgeous Marta Waters, who was blonde and flawless and not in sweatpants.
Clapping her hand over her mouth, Amelia ran for the hall bathroom where she lost the little bit of ginger ale she’d managed to get down. She leaned back against the wall and slid down, resting her head on her knees and fighting the urge to sob.
What the hell was wrong with her? When she wasn’t feeling sick, she was crying. When she wasn’t crying or feeling sick, she was asleep. Her skin was breaking out like she was a teenager again and she had no energy. And, yet, she had no fever, she wasn’t sneezing or coughing. None of it made sense.
# # #
Amelia barely dragged herself off of the couch when her computer gave the Skype alert. She was feeling like a terrible friend on top of everything else, because she’d put Aubrey off the last few times she’d called. She answered the call, determined to be cheerful.
“Hey,” she said, giving the happiest looking smile she could muster.
“Hey,” Aubrey replied. “Can I rant at you for a second?”
“That’s unusual, but sure.” Aubrey was the most positive person Amelia knew, hands down.
“I just...I feel so bad for some of these kids that I counsel!” Aubrey burst out. “What iswrong with sex education in this country? I just had a sixteen-year-old girl in my office who had no idea that she was pregnant! Nausea, weight gain, missing her period, lack of energy...she thought she had the flu! The freaking flu! A friend of hers forced her down to the center to take a test and she freaked out; she was completely terrified. She actually thought she couldn't get pregnant if it was her first time, and I wish to God I’d never heard that before, but I get it all the time!” Aubrey suddenly stopped. “Amelia? Are you okay?”
Amelia cleared her throat and pressed her lips together. Her mouth had been hanging open. “Yes, absolutely. What is she going to do?”
Aubrey sighed heavily. “She hasn’t made a decision yet. I spent most of the time just calming her down.”
Amelia did her best to listen as Aubrey talked and give the appropriate responses, but her mind was racing. Shouldn’t she have had her period last week? No, it should have come the week before that. And she’d been sick for a while now.
In her anger when she was getting ready and nervousness once she was at Ethan’s house, she hadn’t thought of asking him to use a condom. What had she been thinking? She had to find out, and she had to find out as soon as possible.
“Amelia?” Aubrey asked. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Tears filled Amelia’s eyes. “No, honestly. But I don’t want to get into it right now. I can’t.”
Aubrey’s face had gone from annoyed with the state of the world and the public education system to concerned for her friend, which made Amelia feel even more like a jerk. She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes and took a deep breath to avoid letting the tears spill down her cheeks.
“Sorry, Aubrey,” she whispered. “I have to go now.”
“Okay,” Aubrey said slowly. “But I’m here for you. You know that, right? The minute you can talk about it, I expect you call me. No matter what.”
“I will. I...I’m sorry, I have to go.” She had to get to the drugstore and back before her father came home for the day.
# # #
Amelia had barely gotten back home and she was only halfway up the stairs to her bedroom when she heard the front door slam. She quickly checked to make sure that the small box was buried deeply in her purse. Of course, if he’d had her followed again, it wouldn’t matter. He’d know exactly what she’d bought. Heart hammering, she put her purse down on the stairs and walked into the hallway.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, but her father was already headed into the living room where he turned on the television with an angry jab of his thumb to the remote.
News 6 popped right up and he gave Amelia a quick glance. She made her face as bland as possible and he turned back to the LCD screen. Marta Waters was behind the anchor desk, looking just as beautiful as she’d looked that morning.
“Our story earlier today featured Ethan Billings, the president of motorcycle club: The Angel’s Keepers. In the current climate, created largely by State Representative Gregory Stratton, most of our viewers might expect this to be a story about trafficking or other crime. However, Ethan Billings set up a charity drive for injured and homeless war veterans and made sure they left with every penny earned, despite Representative Stratton’s new restrictive tax plan putting the squeeze on his and other bikers’ organizations.”
“Sounds like a pretty good guy,” her co-anchor said cheerfully. “It’s a shame Representative Stratton couldn’t be reached for rebuttal.”
“You know,” Marta went on. “Many voters believe he may be getting a little old for the political arena. Things like this may prove him to be even more out of touch with younger voters than ever before. And now for the weather with Ben--”
The television went dark.
“Why can’t they see that this is a publicity stunt?” Stratton demanded. “He doesn’t give a damn about veterans!”
“Yes, he does,” Amelia surprised herself by saying. “He was in the Army.”
Gregory sneered. “He’s not anymore; I checked. Probably a dishonorable discharge. All of these people are criminals.”
“No they’re not! Even cops have motorcycle clubs!”
Gregory looked at her closely and suspiciously. “Why are you looking into them?”
“Whyaren’t you? You’
re the one who’s supposed to know!”
“I get my facts from a very reliable source,” he said, his face stony now.
“And who is that? Because, Dad, I am being serious when I say this.” Amelia took a deep breath to steady her voice. Her father had been reasonable in the past...when he was winning elections by landslides. She hadn’t realized that the two were so closely connected. But maybe she could get through to him again. “They seem to be wrong about everything. Motorcycle clubs are perfectly legitimate organizations. They-”
“You don’t have any idea what you’re talking about,” Gregory said flatly. “A few hysterical blog posts defending these people isn’t the same thing as actual research. Warren Miller and Richard Brewer have actually done some work, here. They’re the only ones who seem to be willing to put in the time.”
Disgust overtook her logical response and she turned away. She’d put in her share of hours researching this too. It was more than just making sure Ethan wasn’t the horrible person her father painted him to be. She genuinely wanted to help her father make decisions that would make people’s lives better. And she was being brushed off, dismissed, in favor of two men with inflated statistics that fit Gregory’s own prejudices.
“I’ll be upstairs,” she said tiredly.
“Fine. They’re coming over to discuss how we should address this and I expect you to keep a civil tongue if they want to talk to you.”
Of course, it wouldn’t occur to him to ask if she wanted to talk to them. Maybe in the past it would have, but not anymore. Amelia didn’t bother to reply, she just scooped her purse up and walked up the stairs.
“And don’t forget your date with Anthony tonight,” he called at her retreating back.
“How could I?” she asked, suddenly feeling even more exhausted as she remembered that she hadn’t done anything to get ready. Anthony always took her to places where he could see and be seen. She’d probably need to do better than yoga pants and a messy bun. “Don’t worry, Dad. I’ll stay out of your way and go on my date like a good girl.”
After I find out whether or not I’m pregnant by another man, that is.
Chapter 11
Amelia
Amelia stared down at the small, white stick, her hands shaking. The test had advertised correctly. Her results were clear. They were actually a little too clear. She wouldn’t have minded some reassuring vagueness at the moment. Pregnant. She was pregnant. She was pregnant by the leader of a biker gang that wasn’t actually a gang. She was pregnant by a man she’d had a one-night stand with and hadn’t spoken to again in almost two months. Of course, she’d probably have to talk to him now.
A quick, slightly hysterical giggle escaped her and she smacked her hand over her mouth. This was no time to laugh. If she laughed too hard then the next swing of the emotional rollercoaster would be tears and she didn’t want that either. She needed logic, not emotion. What the hell was she going to do?
“Amelia?”
She jumped, the pregnancy test flying out of her grip and clattering into the sink when her father appeared suddenly in the doorway.
“What are you...” Gregory began and then trailed off when he recognized what she’d been holding. His face went a dark red and he stepped forward so fast that she shrank back. There was no way to hide it now. In keeping with her recent luck, the test had landed face-up, still cheerily proclaiming she was going to be a mother. He swung to face her, shock and fury written all over his face. “What in the hell is going on, Amelia?” he shouted.
She had to swallow several times before she could motivate her vocal cords into action. “What does it look like?”
“You better be able to tell me that this is all some sort of joke,” Gregory said, breathing heavily, his hands clenching and unclenching.
She shook her head. “No, I’m not feeling particularly funny right this second.”
What she actually felt was sick, dizzy, and a bit frightened. She’d never seen her father this angry. He was actually shaking. Was he going to hit her? She’d never had a reason to wonder that before, but she was afraid of it right now.
“Is it Anthony’s?” he asked through clenched teeth.
“That’s none of your--”
“Don’t tell me this is none of my business, I’m your father!”
“Then act like it!” she shouted back, her fury and worry finally reaching the boiling point. “Don’t stand there screaming at me when I’m scared to death!” Tears filled her eyes, but she knuckled them away angrily.
“You wouldn’t be scared if you hadn’t been so stupid!” he snapped back. “If it’s not Anthony’s then you know what to do. Just get rid of it and, for God’s sake, keep your mouth shut about it.”
He stomped out, slamming the bathroom door behind him. Amelia sank down on the edge of the tub. Her chest burned with anger and the sobs that she tried her hardest to choke back. She didn’t want to give into the panic that threatened to consume her. If she did, she wasn’t sure she’d ever stop crying.
Her hair fell forward into her face and she contemplated it blankly. It was greasy and lank. At least now she had an explanation for that.
That wasn’t the point right now. She needed a shower. No matter what her father had just said to her, she was sure he still expected her to go out with Anthony that night. Mechanically, Amelia stood up and walked over to the glass enclosure. She turned the water on and waited, staring blankly at the wall until steam had fogged the glass. Then she stepped in, barely registering how hot the water was. She was shaking and she couldn’t seem to stop.
Halfway through shaving her legs, she realized that she would have to tell Anthony that she was pregnant. She also realized she had no clue how to start that conversation.
She put her hand on her stomach. It was still flat, obviously. It might even be a few more months before she started to show. It would be even longer before she could feel the baby move. She could take care of things quickly and quietly, like her father had suggested.
But she didn’t want to. It wasn’t just her innate desire to rebel either. The thought of the clinic frightened her. The sterile environment and equipment that she didn’t want to think about. She didn't want a stiffly professional doctor telling her she was doing the right thing. Not when she was so unsure. There was just no way that she could make this decision. Not this soon. Not when she was still so frightened.
Her thoughts went back to Anthony once more. They’d been seeing each other regularly, but he’d never been more physical than a kiss goodnight. And it was always a slightly stiff kiss. A duty kiss more than anything else. He never even parted his lips. That was fine with her. She didn’t want his kisses and God knew that she didn’t want to go to bed with him. Not with Ethan’s memory so fresh in her mind.
But how would Anthony feel about her now that she was carrying another man’s child? She couldn’t imagine he’d be thrilled. If he broke up with her, would her father cut her off anyway? Why did she feel so relieved at the prospect? It had terrified her a month and a half ago.
The hand she’d placed on her stomach once more curled somewhat protectively. No, she couldn't give it all up now. This wouldn’t be the time to be financially unstable. She had to take care of more than herself now.
So was that it? Was it really that easy? Deciding to be a mother? She wrapped a towel around herself and walked into her room to get dressed. She was still terrified, shocked, and more than a little worried, yes. But...she liked the idea of having someone who loved her just because of who she was and not what she could do for them. Her own little baby to face the world with. Amelia and baby versus the world.
Her own person to raise and be totally responsible for. She swallowed hard. She wasn’t delusional enough to think motherhood was limited to picking out cute clothes and planning fun games. She’d grown up with no memories of the woman who had been her mother. Maybe, since she’d grown up without one, she didn’t know how to be one. Maybe the poor kid would be completely
screwed up and it would be all her fault. In which case, she’d need her father’s money for therapy bills.
She had that same urge to laugh and cry and Amelia took a breath to steady herself. She had a little time; there was no need to choose right this second. She pulled out her phone and sent Anthony a text.
“Sorry for the short notice, but I’m not feeling well and I can’t make it tonight.”
His reply was nearly immediate.“Sorry to hear that. Feel better.”
It was as impersonal as calling in sick to work. Which was basically what she was doing. What both of them were doing, it seemed.
Taking a few moments to collect herself, she went downstairs to find her father.
# # #
“I don’t think you understand how serious this is.”
