by Zoey Parker
An insult about Theresa was on the tip of my tongue but I didn’t say anything. Theresa and I had gone to high school together; she was a year or so younger than me. And now she was my dad’s newest plaything, a sort of live-in girlfriend who could cook and clean for him. She looked like she was having fun but I never asked her how it really felt to take care of such an ailing geezer. Lionel was a temperamental old man. I couldn’t imagine they’d sit around playing bingo or some shit like that. And judging from her antics on the lawn, I had a feeling she was probably pretty fucking bored.
“Pops, I do the best I can,” I snapped. “I’ll get this fixed. Trust me.”
Lionel eyed me with surprising intelligence for someone who was so clearly ailing. “I’ll trust you when I see the stuff. You plan on showing that to me soon?”
“Soon as I get it,” I said. I could feel my blood pressure rising by the second. “I got another meeting with Jake tonight. If he doesn’t say shit, I’m going to the Russians myself.” I paused. It was a bold statement. “I’ll make something happen, Pops. Just you wait.”
“I been waiting a month now,” Lionel snapped. “And good. You handle it yourself if you want to make sure it gets done. I told you that years ago, boy. You never listen to me.”
“I got to go, Pops,” I said, stepping forward and leaning down to kiss Lionel’s cheek. He smelled like bathroom cleaner and mold. “Have a good day, you hear? Be good to Terry.”
“She’s getting old,” Lionel said in a distasteful voice. “Can’t you find me another girl? A good cook this time. She burns everything. I have to tell her I want the damn food raw for her to cook it good!”
“All right, Pops, I’ll tell her to stop,” I said.
Lionel looked away and I knew that was my cue to leave.
“Wait, Zane,” Lionel said. He let out a heavy breath. “There’s one more thing. Come sit.” He patted the bed next to him. I walked over and sat down. “I have some news.”
“Yeah?” I looked at him. “What is it, Pops?”
“Gianni has a daughter,” Lionel said shortly. “A grown daughter. Probably close to your age. And we gotta find her.”
I frowned. “What the fuck. He had a kid? I never fuckin’ knew that. That old dog!”
Lionel actually laughed. “He had a wife, too. Can you believe that shit? Kept it a secret for so fuckin’ long. And we thought he was a homo!” He started laughing again until tears were running down his dry, wrinkled face. “Poor Gianni, rest in peace, you bastard.”
I blinked. “So…her last name would be Bianchi,” I offered.
Lionel nodded. “Right, somethin’ like that. I don’t know what happened to his wife. I never bothered to ask. But I found out about the daughter today. Gianni must have loved her — he left her everything. And someone’s gonna come sniffing around for her now that the news is out.”
I shifted uncomfortably on the bed. Suddenly everything from that night started to make sense. Why Isabella said she hadn’t grown up with her father. How she and her mother had always been poor. Why she had that great last name and she was still working as a waitress. “I think I found her,” I said. “Her name is Isabella.”
“Good,” Lionel said. He didn’t even seem remotely surprised. “Gianni always wore this.” He dipped his hand into the night table and came back with part of a gold necklace. “If it’s her, she’ll have the other half.”
He handed me the locket and suddenly a heavy memory from the night with Isabella came rushing back to me, flooding my senses. I shuddered. It was like she was in the room with me.
“I got it, Pops,” I said to Lionel. “I’ll find her.”
Lionel nodded. “Soon, boy,” he added. “She’s in danger, and it’s growing every day.”
Chapter 7
Isabella
I spent the rest of the night in a daze. Ricardo let me go home — Tammy ran to him and told him I barfed. He was at the door of the ladies’ before I could even step outside.
“Isabella, go home,” Ricardo said in disgust. “You’re too sick to be at work. What did I fuckin’ tell you?”
I blushed a bright hot red. “I’m sorry, Ricardo. I wasn’t feeling this poorly when I left the house.”
I was afraid to be alone with myself. When I got out of work, I called Janice.
“Hey, are you busy?”
“Never too busy for you,” Janice said ironically. “What can I do you for?”
“I need help,” I mumbled into the phone. “I’m coming over. Are you home?”
“Yeah,” Janice said. She covered the receiver and I heard her yell something to someone. “Sorry, the kid’s being a brat,” she said mildly. “Come on over. We’re having macaroni and cheese for dinner. Can you bring a vegetable?”
The sound of both mac and cheese and vegetables filled me with the urge to vomit again, but I didn’t want to tell her I was pregnant. I didn’t want to say the words aloud. I didn’t want them to be true. If they were true…well, if they were true, then I’d decide what to do when I knew for sure. But right now, I didn’t want to jinx myself. That was like asking for trouble.
I dreaded the idea of telling Zane. I didn’t know whether or not I should say anything. After our night together, even though it was magnificent, he’d made it pretty fucking clear he didn’t want a relationship with me. And if I told him I was pregnant, I wasn’t even sure if he’d believe me. After all, women did things like that sometimes. Kyle had told me that was why he’d married his wife. Then a few months after the wedding, she had a “miscarriage.” When Kyle had first told me the story, I’d been horrified. But now I could sort of see the point of view: if a woman thought a man was going to walk no matter what, why not try to trap him into staying?
Obviously, that wasn’t what I’d done at all.
When I left work, I drove to a drugstore. The arsenal of pregnancy tests — a bunch of pink and blue boxes — confronted me as I stared at them. They almost seemed to taunt me, like they knew what the result was going to be. Finally, I grabbed a handful of different brands and carried them to the counter. The clerk was indifferent. I might as well have been buying hemorrhoid ointment or a package of bacon. When I’d paid and the tests were in a bag, I rushed over to the grocery store. The first vegetable I saw that didn’t make me feel even more nauseous was some corn. I grabbed a few ears and paid for them, then dashed out of the store and hopped back in the car. I had to pee in an urgent way that I hadn’t felt a few minutes ago. I wondered if it was the pregnancy tests, subconsciously messing with me.
“Hi,” I said a few breathless minutes later. “Can I use your bathroom?”
Janice was juggling a toddler on her hip and a baby in her arms. “Sure,” she said. She looked older and more tired than she had the last time I’d seen her.
I thrust the bag of corn at her feet and leapt past her, down the hallway to the messy bathroom with the pink-tiled floor I remembered so well.
Janice had bought her parents’ house and they’d used the money to buy a retirement condo in Florida. Even though our mothers had been best friends, I hadn’t seen Janice’s mom since I was in high school. I remembered the house well, though. I had memories of being hungover in this very bathroom, puking until I thought my guts were going to fall out. I remember I’d fallen asleep on the grimy pink tiles. Janice had brought me a box of soda crackers and some ginger ale and stayed up with me all night. Back when we were good friends. Back when I wasn’t such a shitty person to her.
I dumped the bag on the floor and the pregnancy tests scattered everywhere. Grabbing a pink box, I ripped the cardboard flaps open and squatted on the toilet with the plastic stick held between my legs. Even though I really had to pee, I had to close my eyes and relax before the stream started coming. Warm urine gushed over my hand and I jerked back, sending droplets across the already messy bathroom.
With a deep sigh, I set a timer for three minutes on my phone. I grabbed another pregnancy test box. Couldn’t hurt, right? The worst i
t could do was lie to me.
“Isabella, are you all right in there?” Janice rapped on the door. I heard the toddler wailing to be put down and Janice’s subsequent fussy replies. “Do you need any help?”
“I’m fine,” I called through gritted teeth. “Just feeling kind of sick.”
“You look like hell,” Janice said casually. “You know, if you let yourself go, that guy isn’t going to come back and ask you out.”
I could have slapped her. “I’ll be right out!” I called in a fake-cheery voice. “Okay? Just leave me alone for a couple of minutes.”
“Fine, you don’t have to be so touchy,” Janice replied. I let out a sigh of relief when I heard her heavy footsteps down the hallway. “I was only trying to help.”
The timer on my phone dinged. I shut my eyes and reached out the stick that I’d first used. With trembling fingers, I brought it close to me. There was a plus sign on the test. I let out a loud wail and threw the stick against the wall. It clattered to the floor just as I felt the tears well up in my eyes.
***
“You still look like hell,” Janice said after I’d plopped down at the kitchen table and told her everything. “So, you’re pregnant, huh?”
“Unfortunately,” I said with a grimace. Janice frowned. “I mean, I didn’t mean it like that,” I explained. “I just…it was a one-night stand! I don’t want a baby from a one-night stand!”
“So, get an abortion,” Janice said. She lit a cigarette and exhaled gracefully over her shoulder. “You’re already going to hell anyway.” She winked at me and I felt myself relax just a tenth of an inch.
“I can’t get an abortion,” I said. “I couldn’t do that to my baby.” Even though I wasn’t sure how I felt about what was growing inside of me, I didn’t think I could just get rid of it. After all, having an abortion just because it wouldn’t be a convenient time for me to have the baby would be heartless. I couldn’t do something like that.
Janice rolled her eyes. “That’s what I said, too,” she replied. “But trust me, that is a baby,” she said, pointing towards the wailing infant in his crib on the other side of the room. “What’s inside of you ain’t a baby. That’s just a bunch of cells together, sweetheart. You gotta do what’s best for you, you know?”
I shook my head. “It doesn’t seem right,” I said. Janice glared at me. “But I’ll think about it, okay?”
“Good girl,” Janice said. She ashed her cigarette in an empty can of Pepsi. “I wish I’d been smarter about having these rugrats around. I shoulda known Derrick was a deadbeat.”
Derrick was the man who’d fathered Janice’s two children. They were still married, legally, but he’d been gone for over six months now with no word. She claimed she didn’t know what had happened to him, but I wouldn’t have been surprised if Janice had been the one to tell him to go. She liked to do things her own way. I could see her kicking him out just for leaving the toilet seat up.
“I just don’t know what to do,” I moaned, putting my head in my hands on the table. “I don’t think he wants anything to do with me. He made it pretty fucking clear he doesn’t want a relationship with me.”
Janice shrugged. “Some guys come around when their little swimmers have done God’s work,” she said sarcastically. “You think he’d jump on the daddy train?”
I laughed bitterly. “He is not father material,” I said. “His mansion is a glorified bachelor pad. I couldn’t see a kid crawling around there.”
Janice shrugged. “So then he might give you some money,” she said. “You ever thought of that? I only have to work two days a week. Derrick’s parents take care of me.”
I looked around her messy house. I don’t think taken care of is the right word for you, I thought. But I knew with Zane it would probably be different. His leather furniture had spoken of wealth, not to mention that incredible car he drove around. Maybe he would pay me once he found out I was pregnant. Maybe he’d want to be involved, maybe not. But maybe, just maybe, there was a chance I wouldn’t have to do this alone.
“You’re not alone,” Janice said, as if reading my mind. “A hundred thousand women have all been there before, you know that. It ain’t just you, sweetheart. Men are scum.”
I bit my lip. “I hated growing up without a father,” I said softly. “I always used to wish he was alive, especially when I fought with my mom.”
Janice nodded. “Rose was a bear. Even Mom said so. And those two were thick as thieves.”
***
The next day, I got ready for work. I didn’t know whether or not Ricardo would turn me away, but I really needed some extra cash. Those bills were due, and I’d made an appointment with a doctor for the end of next week. I wanted to get a blood test and make sure I was really, actually pregnant. If I wasn’t, I could let out a sigh of relief. But a doctor visit wasn’t going to be free, and I needed some cash.
“You look better,” Ricardo said as soon as I got to work. I held my breath, waiting for him to ask if I was pregnant. But instead, he nodded. “Isabella, take out the trash before your shift.”
I waited until he’d turned around before the disgust truly hit me. I gagged and covered it with a heavy cough. I could smell the garbage through the whole restaurant. I didn’t know how I was going to manage to drag the bag outside. But I didn’t want to piss Ricardo off any more than I already had. I knew I’d be eating crow for a couple of weeks in order to get my place back. And when I started showing, I just knew he was going to give me hell.
Grabbing the heavy trash bags, I hefted them over my shoulder and held my breath. As soon as I shoved open the door, I saw there were two men in the alley. Gasping, I dropped the bags and slumped down low behind a dumpster. They were both wearing sharkskin suits and dark sunglasses and I had a bad feeling about both of them.
“We gotta get him soon,” one of them said in a low voice. There was a pause and a click as he lit a cigarette. “We wasted too much time already.”
“We got a deal in place,” the other one replied. “We got a deal to take down that asshole, Zane Ricci. He ain’t gonna know what hit him.”
I gasped and stumbled backwards. Just then, one of the trash bags spilled over and some silverware clanked against the dumpster. I cried out in surprise and froze. The men were at my side in a second.
“Hey, pretty lady,” one of them said. “Anyone ever tell you you’re not supposed to eavesdrop?”
I squawked in protest as they stepped forward and grabbed my arms, dragging me away before I even had the chance to scream.
Chapter 8
Zane
I sat in my car for what felt like hours, staring at Terry and the half of the gold necklace in my hand. After I’d left the old man by himself, Terry had tried to con me into bringing her a drink.
“What’s all this?” Terry twisted around in the chaise until her tan belly folded over itself in a display of taut, tan muscle. “You leavin’?”
I grinned at her. Terry had been one of the hottest girls in school. She’d aged well, with high, firm breasts straining the front of her crocheted bikini. She suggestively traced a hand over her thigh when she caught me watching her, licking her plump lower lip and eyeing me over the tops of her designer sunglasses.
“’Fraid so, honey,” I told with her a wink as I climbed in my car. “And quit burning Pop’s food. He thinks you’re trying to kill him.”
Terry gaped. “Like hell I am,” she shot back in a thick Jersey accent. “That asshole can’t even see the goddamn plate most of the time!”
“Hey, watch it,” I said sharply. “He may be an old asshole, but don’t talk about my father like that. You’re his goddamn girlfriend!”
Terry pouted and looked at her ringless left hand. “Don’t remind me,” she said sourly. “I ain’t done waitin’ for that ring yet.”
By the time he’s ready to give you a ring, he’s gonna be done with you, I thought, but didn’t say it. Terry was a sweet girl, but it was fuckin’ obvious: what
would a knockout be doing with someone like my father? Thinking about them fucking was painful. I didn’t even think he could get it up without the help of some Viagra.
“You’re gonna be waitin’ a long time,” I told Terry with a smirk as I climbed behind the wheel of my Porsche.
She pouted and adjusted herself on the lounge, stretching out and fanning her breasts with her hand. My cock twitched in my pants but I gave up the thought before it really took hold; fucking my father’s girlfriend would be like suicide. I couldn’t do that unless I really wanted him to cut me out forever.
But now that I was alone again, I pulled out the locket from Gianni and looked at it. No doubt about it, it was exactly the same as the one Isabella wore around her neck. It was two halves of a delicate heart that locked together on one side. I wondered what she’d do when I told her she was heir to a big fortune. Probably spit in my fuckin’ face, I thought with a smirk. Isabella had been hungry for sex and even hungrier for love. I almost felt bad about the way I’d kicked her out so ungracefully.
