by Inez Kelley
Nathan pointed his skinny finger in Bastian’s face. “Don’t tempt me. Do you have any idea the cost of one FCC fine? That little smut show of yours costs this station a pret—”
“Bullshit!” Bastian spat. “The delay works fine and Justine does her job. That little smut show has doubled your listener numbers and tripled the advertising income of this spit-dot station. Charlie and her shows are your prime draw. So you got one fine. Big fucking deal. She’s brought in more than three times that in revenue and you know it. Lay off the big-man shit and pay her what she’s worth before she finds a better offer.”
Nathan pinned his greedy, beady eyes on her. “You leaving?”
A sickening churn in her stomach, Charlie dropped her eyes to her knees. “I told you I sent résumés out. Haven’t heard anything positive on them, though.”
“Then you need to listen up. I approve all show topics and contests, not you. Stop going off on this half-cocked bullshit.” A sneer twisted his thin lips as Nathan settled back in his chair. He speared Bastian with what Charlie assumed was supposed to be a fierce look but it came across as constipated. “And speaking of half-cocked, you keep your dick in your pants until the Summer Kickoff.”
“Pardon me?” Bastian gaped.
A squeak shrilled through the room as Nathan shifted forward on the rickety office chair. “Actually, I don’t care who you bang. Fuck her raw if it makes you happy, but on air, you play it all virginal and you—” he snapped his face toward Charlie, “—can run off to Atlantic City or Vegas with Elvis himself. But on air, Honeypot and Dr. Hot keep this shit flowing. The numbers are up and this little stunt is working, so milk it. One of you can cop to caving at the Kickoff, not until.”
“You are such a fucking hypocrite,” Bastian snarled.
Nathan grinned an oily grin. “Whatever. It’s my name on your paycheck so you do what I say.”
Bastian opened his mouth but Charlie clamped her hand on his knee and squeezed. “Right, we got it. Come on, Bastian. You have to get to the hospital or you’ll be late.”
Bastian fumed until they hit the parking lot. Bright sunshine blinded her and Charlie dug in her bag for her sunglasses. The throb in her skull intensified in the light, and she gritted her teeth against the stabbing pain.
“I hate that bastard.” Bastian leaned against her car door and blew out a harsh breath. “He uses you and pays you shit then makes you listen while he plays lord asshole. Someone needs to turn him in for harassment.” He scuffed his sneaker toe into the gravel. “You know, Charlie, I hated the idea you started looking elsewhere for a job but, damn it, I hope you get an offer soon just so you can tell him to kiss your ass. If it wasn’t for you, I’d tell him to pucker up and kiss mine right now.”
“Ignore him.” Even behind the darkened lenses of her sunglasses, bright lights popped and flashed. The mother of migraines was brewing and she did not need Sir Bastian the Belligerent shouting his annoyance in her ringing ears. “His father owns the station and he’s got this mistaken idea that gives him leeway to act all dickish. I just nod my head and do my own shit. It works and he knows it. Let him crow.”
Bastian tugged her close and rested his forehead against hers. “I don’t need this job, but you do. Sorry I lost my temper in there.”
“’Sokay.” She dropped a quick kiss across his mouth. “I like it when Dr. Hot gets all worked up. Turns me on.”
Bastian chuckled and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Nathan told me to behave, remember? I have to listen to the boss so certain parts of my anatomy are off-limits to you. Unless you want to answer a certain nuptial question…”
“Go to work. I need to go to bed and for once, I mean to sleep. See you tonight. You’re buying the pizza.”
“Time to wake up, sleepyhead.”
Charlie attempted to burrow back under the covers, but they were too heavy to move. She tugged but they wouldn’t budge.
“Come on, sunshine, rise and shine.”
Her bedding was speaking. The warm and comfortable voice soothed her, lulling her back into dreamland.
“Charlie, get up.”
One bleary eye cracked open. Her blankets weren’t talking but the large blond man lying on them was. She rolled to her stomach and buried her head. Too thick for conversation, her tongue barely moved. “Go ’way, I’m ’sleep.”
“I see that. It’s almost seven. You slept through the alarm again.”
He kept talking but she fought awareness until he sounded like a buzzing bee, circling the bloom of her consciousness. A few more circles and he would leave her alone. Sleep beckoned and she sank deeper.
A wet tongue licked her nape. Charlie’s eyes snapped wide as Bastian nuzzled the back of her neck. If this was his alarm system, she definitely approved. The pillow fell off the mattress as she tried to roll beneath him. She couldn’t move. He had her pinned to the bed, blankets trapped beneath his knees on either side of her hips.
“As much as I love what you’re doing with your mouth, I’d really prefer to be face-up for it.”
“Ah, Sleeping Beauty awakes. It’s about time. You stood me up.”
“What? What time is it?” Struggling with the sheets and comforter, she pushed him aside. The clock read 6:52 p.m. and she collapsed back onto the pillow with a groan. “I’m sorry. I must have passed out.”
“I thought it might be something like that. You’re never late for Rudy’s pizza. Come on, haul ass.”
Fog lurked in her brain and she forced herself to focus on his face. Pizza. Yeah, food, that was what she needed. She also had a sudden desperate need to pee. Both combined were enough to make her shove the blankets back. Bastian collapsed on her pillow, head in his hand, laughing as she stumbled toward the bathroom. “You sleep like the dead.”
Unable to form a coherent comeback, she raised her middle finger. The floor wobbled and she reached out for the dresser edge.
“Charlie? Are you okay?”
“I just have to pee and wake up.”
Five minutes later, thanks to the restorative powers of painkillers combined with a solid block of sleep, she was bright-eyed and famished. Bastian’s position halted her return to the bedroom. He sat at the edge of her bed and held her medication bottle in one hand. Grim concern carved his brow.
“You had another migraine. That’s why you overslept.”
“I caught it before it got bad. I’m fine now.”
“We’ve talked about this.”
“And you never butt out. I have a doctor and you aren’t her.” Hunger shifted to peevishness as she yanked underwear and matching bra from the drawer. The exasperated sigh behind her made her grit her teeth. She really didn’t want to argue with him again about this. Two arguments in two days were two too many.
“You need to go off the Pill.”
“Once again, not butting out.”
“There are other methods, methods without hormones. Give your body a break.”
She could predict the familiar fight screenplay nearly to the word. “Key word, my body, my decision.”
“Use condoms.”
The drawer slid home with a sharp crack as she glared at him. “I’m not stupid, I do. Or rather, I make my partners. But the Pill is my control. I always use both, every time. No way in hell am I getting knocked up.”
“Then think about an IUD.”
“Bastian, get your mind out of my uterus.”
Dropping his head, Bastian squeezed the plastic bottle until she thought it might crack. He didn’t stay on script. That was supposed to be the end of it, the point where he threw up his hands and told her only idiots went against medical advice. Instead he worried his bottom lip with his tongue and pushed forward.
“I’m just worried about you, okay? Every time you take this shit, your blood pressure goes haywire, you’re killing your kidneys, and I don’t want to even think about the other side effects. This stuff isn’t candy. It’s a serious painkiller.”
Damn, he was sweet when he was be
ing all pro-Charlie. Her shoulders lost some of their tenseness. “It’s not like I’m shooting heroin. Those are prescribed and I only use them when I need them.”
His jaw tightened and bunched as he scowled at her. The wide orange bottle smacked the nightstand. “Yeah, apparently you’ve needed them four times so far this month. Your doctor’s a quack.”
Hello, boundaries! Charlie dug in her heels and squared her body. “She’s got as many letters after her name as you do.”
“Even the idiot who graduates last gets to be called doctor.” He was too angry about this. Something rang off-kilter to the familiar argument. Unease skittered up her spine like mice in an attic and he sent them scurrying with his ire. “You shouldn’t be doing this to your system. You know the trigger, eliminate it. Go off the Pill.”
“For the last time, it’s none of your business.” She retreated to the bathroom.
He followed with muttered curse. “I think it is now.”
“Why, because you’ve got a nice little God-complex going?”
“No, because you don’t have to worry about it with me.”
Comprehension halted her steps and she leaned both hands on the vanity. So that’s what’s bothering him.
Framed in the doorway, he leaned on one shoulder. His quiet gaze caressed her face. “I want to be not only your next lover, but your last. Sleeping with me would mean no risk. You don’t need the Pill.”
She struggled for air. She knew he was medically right, that her body needed a break, but she’d never been willing to chance it before. The older she got, the worse her headaches became. Even her “quack” doctor was hinting it was time to consider other ideas. With Bastian, birth control would be a nonissue.
However, the question of commitment reared its fanged head and snapped at her. It would be a concrete step in choosing a future with him and him alone. Could she do that? She bit her lip.
The lines around his eyes deepened. His gaze shifted away. “Silver lining to every cloud, right? I can’t get you pregnant. There’s no need for hormones. No pills, no more headaches.”
“I never thought about it.” She forced her eyes not to fall. He had no shame in this and she wouldn’t make him feel any. “It’s not something I actively keep in my mind about you, you know?”
He nodded. “I do think we need to talk about it, though. Embarrassing, awkward or whatever, it’s the responsible thing to do, so talk to me.”
“Can we talk someplace other than my bathroom, please?”
“Sure.” The soft sigh as he held his hand out to her bounced in the austere room. Curling her fingers into his, she dropped the clean underwear in the dry sink and allowed him to pull her out of the bathroom, through the bedroom and into her kitchen.
The upper apartment had once been a loft overlooking the dusty garage floor. Yearning for independence at sixteen, Charlie had moved out of her mother’s house one weekend and never returned. Although the refurbishing was slow at first, the apartment now resembled nothing of a garage storage room.
The open living and kitchen area had high white ceilings and a lazily circling fan above a patterned rug in muted reds and golds. Behind the armchair ran a sturdy steel pole from floor to ceiling. A holdover from her dancing days, the beam now served as an exercise device, maintaining her upper body strength and burning off Ben and Jerry’s. Other than yoga, it was the only exercise she could tolerate.
The white appliances echoed the spartan chic-ness in the area. Not a mushroom or a ladybug in sight. Charlie preferred oversized movie prints from the 1930s and several adorned the walls. A center counter divided the kitchen from the rest of the room and served as her table. Bastian settled there now in one of the high-backed stools, silent as she flitted around, making coffee.
“I’ve been on birth control since I was sixteen. It’d be a big change for me. It’s like giving up control.”
“It’s a control that wouldn’t be necessary. It’d be better for you, even if you don’t add me to the equation.”
Bastian was the equation. Without him, she wouldn’t even be considering giving up that protection, that safeguard. She wanted a baby like most people wanted inflamed hemorrhoids. Bastian mourned children he’d never have. Charlie lived in terror of being late. It was just another of the huge differences in them that had never mattered before. Suddenly, they did.
“I was late once. Once. I panicked.”
“I remember.”
Her lips quirked. “Yeah, you should. You talked me down.”
“You weren’t that late. Two days is not bad.”
“Felt like years to me.”
She closed her eyes and leaned her head on the cabinet. He’d never understand. For Bastian, children were a blessing he was denied. For her, they were a threat. The minute she’d understood that sex led to babies, she’d decided there was no way she was repeating Eddy’s life. No unplanned pregnancies for her, ever.
Babies needed stability. She’d never had that in her life. Men came and went, sometimes a stepfather, sometimes just a “friend” of her mother’s who stayed over, sometimes just a mysterious new face at the breakfast table once and then never again. Charlie had learned to get dressed before leaving her bedroom since she didn’t know who would be there.
Charlie watched the coffeepot. All the phone calls, the fights over child support, the lean months going without when a check was late came rushing back on a cold wind. She shivered. Her father was a stranger, a resentful man who tolerated her when he was forced to endure custody visits. At twelve, she’d stopped going and he hadn’t argued.
Bastian would be a different type of father, if he were able. No kid of his would ever feel like a mistake, a reminder of a onetime slip in safety. She glanced over her shoulder then pulled her face back. Aromatic steam wafted from the coffeemaker as thin splashes plopped into the carafe. Drop by drop, the pot filled, each drip insignificant but joining with others to form an addictive brew. She trained her eyes on the filling container.
“Pretend to be a doctor for me a minute. What happens if I go off them? To my body?”
He was toying with her saltshaker. She could hear the glass cylinder roll back and forth over the Formica with a soft tempo. His bedside manner, unlike her accusation, was soothing and gentle.
“You might have a heavier cycle the first month or you might not have one at all for a while, either is normal. When they do start, they could be erratic while your system adjusts to regulating itself. That can take a couple months. There may possibly be some breakthrough bleeding, maybe worse cramps. That’s about it. Anything has got to be better than four migraines in three weeks.”
“Two. It was only two headaches. I have to double the painkillers now.”
“Jesus. Please get off them, for your health if nothing else. Think about the pain, about how high you’re forcing your blood pressure, how hard you’re working your heart.”
“Sometimes I can head the headaches off with Tylen—”
“And those ruin your liver.” His lips flattened over his teeth. “I want you around for a long time, okay? I don’t want to find you dead one day.”
“You’re being melodramatic.”
“No, I’m being a doctor. I’ve seen it happen too many times. I don’t want it to happen to you.”
“I don’t trust condoms alone. I know too many horror stories.”
“You’d be safe with me. I don’t carry that risk.” Soft, nearly whispered, his voice raised her head.
The deep burgundy mug rolled back and forth in her palms while she chose her words. “But that’s only with you. It would be a pretty big step, wouldn’t it? For us, I mean, as a couple. Exclusively.”
“Yeah. It’s your step to take, though. I can’t do it for you.”
The mug heated as she poured the coffee. Two small sips burned her lips as she mulled the frightening idea in her head. A question grew and she brought her gaze to his. Bastian studied her, a mask of blank professionalism etched into his face. His
eyes told her otherwise. He hoped.
“Slight change of subject. Remember in February when we did the show on safety?”
Curved lines sprang around his mouth with his smile. “You mean the VD checks for V-day? Yeah, how could I forget? Only you would combine Valentine’s Day and venereal disease and get away with it.”
“We both got tested.” Guarded shades fell but he nodded. “You said there hadn’t been any—”
“There hasn’t.”
Why did black coffee get cream-colored bubbles if there was no creamer in it? The distracting thought fascinated her, crowding her mind until she could fix her gaze on his again.
“You know about Adam. He was the only one and I made him use condoms. So, what about that? Do we have a need for them? I mean, if there’s no risk, why bother?”
His shirt rose with deep inhale. Forcing the hair out of his eyes, Bastian leaned on the counter with his elbows while holding her look. “Since we’re not going to be together until you can commit, I’d have to say no, we won’t need them then.” He reached for the salt again. “But I guess we could use them for a while, if it made you feel better, safer.”
Two small steps brought her across from him. She removed the crystal-filled glass from his fingers. Whatever future they might have would not be decided while toying with seasonings. “No chance for an accident, at all?”
Almost missed, his low snort accompanied a head shake. “No. Three tests, failed them all. The only tests I’ve ever failed in my life.”
She rubbed her forehead. “Look at us. You can’t have kids and it kills you. I’m scared to death I’ll get pregnant. How screwed up is that?”
“You’ve never thought about having children?”
There was no way she could miss the longing in his voice. Her father had never sounded anything but bored and bothered. “I’ve dated guys with kids and that was okay. But have I ever wanted a baby? No. I tried to talk my doctor into tying my tubes but—”
“Most won’t do that unless you’ve had a couple children or have a medical need. Frustration with birth control isn’t enough. Too many women change their mind later.”
