A Baby, Quick!

by Layla Valentine

  “Yep,” he said, running his hand through his hair and slicking it back. “The dad was some rich guy’s kid. His dad paid Emma off to keep the baby a secret—figured that it wouldn’t look good for his kid to have a baby out of wedlock with a mother who wasn’t a suitable match.”

  Andrew shook his head as if still in disbelief. “Naturally, when it got back to the dad’s parents that she was planning on putting this baby in the national spotlight, they weren’t too happy about it. They told Sam and me that if we didn’t cancel the contract with Emma, they’d drag us into a legal dogfight.”

  “So that’s that,” I said.

  “More or less,” said Andrew. “No way we’re going to the mat this close to when we’re supposed to start production. What a freaking mess.” He took another long sip of his drink.

  “Does that mean the show’s off?” I asked. I hated to admit it, but part of me had been looking forward to production starting. Not only because of the great publicity, but because doing something like this was so different than anything I’d ever done before. And who knows? Maybe it’d be my foray into what would be a new media enterprise. If the show was a hit, it might be something worth looking into.

  Maybe even think about starting a production company in LA, poach some talent like Andrew, have Sam’s company bought out…

  “No, the show’s not off,” Andrew said, interrupting my reverie. “But this is a hell of a monkey wrench to throw into the gears at the last minute.”

  “Can’t you just get one of the other girls we looked at?”

  “Yeah, that’s what we’re going to have to do. But we’ll have to do another round of auditions, and that’s assuming they’re all still available for work.”

  More head-shaking.

  “Shoot,” I said. “I wish there was something I could do.”

  “No, man,” he said. “This is all my crap to sort out. All you need to worry about is looking good for the cameras, being that loving daddy we’re hoping you’ll be. This behind-the-scenes stuff is my problem—I shouldn’t even be bothering you with the details.”

  “No,” I said, taking a piece of toasted bread from the basket in front of me and ripping it in half. “I’m a CEO, remember? I like to be informed.”

  Andrew smirked. “Good thing I’m working with a guy who knows how sideways things can go.”

  “That, I most certainly know,” I said, popping one of the pieces of bread into my mouth.

  “Well, if you really wanted to help, you’d find me a hot-but-not-too-hot girl for the show. One who’s telegenic and has a well-behaved seven-month-old kid. You got one of those lying around?”

  I chuckled. But then I remembered Heather.

  Right on cue, Andrew spoke up.

  “What about that girl you showed us during the meeting?”

  “You remember her?” I asked.

  “You kidding?” he asked. “Girl like that, face like that—it’d be hard not to.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know,” I said. “She’s not really the Hollywood type.”

  “But that’s exactly what we’re looking for,” he said. “If we wanted an actress, that’s who we’d get.”

  “And there’s more,” I said.

  Andrew raised his eyebrows, waiting for me to go on.

  “She and I didn’t really part on the best terms.”

  He nodded in a knowing way. “Ah,” he said. “She was another notch on the bedpost and thought she was something more?”

  I shook my head. “Not that, exactly.” I didn’t want to go into the exact reason—that she was a mom and I didn’t want to deal with it. Thankfully, Andrew raised his palms in a “sure, sure” gesture.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Don’t need to know all the messy details. The real issue is whether or not we can get her on board for this thing.”

  “I doubt it,” I said. “She’d probably throw a damn drink in my face if she saw me again.”

  “You say that, but let me ask you this—is this girl loaded?”

  “Huh? What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Because if she’s some struggling single mom living in the big city, she might be very, very intrigued by the contract we’re offering.”

  “Good point,” I said. I thought back to Heather’s cramped apartment. She wasn’t living in poverty, but they were far-from-ideal circumstances.

  “We’ll look for a new girl, but give it a shot,” Andrew said. “I can already feel like you and she would be a winning pair for this project.”

  We ordered our food and ate our lunch as Andrew went through a few more of the details about what to expect during the first few weeks before production. Before too long we were done, and he was back off to his hotel.

  “Give her a call, J!” he said as he flagged down a cab. “Worst she can do is say no.”

  Once he was gone, I decided to walk the rest of the way back to my penthouse. I lived in the neighborhood, only a few blocks away.

  I thought about what I’d said to Andrew. Were things really so bitter between Heather and me that she’d say no to something like this? I mean, it’s not like I’d seen her reaction to me leaving. For all I knew there was no bad blood between the two of us, and she didn’t mind one bit.

  Sure, it was wishful thinking. But deep down I wanted to see her again. A month had gone by, and I was still thinking of her constantly. The girl wouldn’t leave my mind, and the more I thought about it as I walked, the more I realized that it was because I hadn’t gotten any closure.

  If I saw her again, even if she slapped me or threw a drink in my face or called me an asshole, I’d have an answer one way or another about how she felt toward me.

  And what if she said yes? That’d mean that Heather would be back in my life, and that, who knows, maybe something would happen between us again.

  Then again, there was still the issue of her being a single mom.

  As I approached my building, I resolved to see her again. A big smile on my face, I was ready to make this collaboration happen.

  Chapter 12

  Heather

  Faye’s crying carried through the apartment like a burst of sonic energy. Wincing, I rushed over to her and scooped her out of her high chair, her face as red as a tomato as tears poured from her eyes.

  “What’s wrong, muffin?” I asked. “You hungry? Tired? What is it?”

  I held her close as she continued to cry. Faye’s behavior had remained volatile over the last month, and I was beginning to worry that there was something really wrong. A trip to the doctor’s a couple of weeks ago showed her to be in perfect health, so it wasn’t anything physical.

  I was beginning to wonder if the problem wasn't with her, but with me. Was I just not up to the job of being a mom? Was I in over my head, Faye's constant tears and fussiness some kind of sign from nature that I was totally out of my element?

  “Come on, baby girl,” I said, wiping her tears away. “Let mama know what’s wrong—please.”

  I knew it wouldn’t do any good to ask a baby to explain herself, but I was out of options.

  Faye still crying, I stepped over to the window of my tiny apartment and looked out. It was a cloudy late-summer day, chillier than it’d been over the last few weeks. I’d planned to spend this Saturday afternoon with Faye at the park, but if she didn’t calm down, I’d be stuck inside, trying to soothe whatever was wrong with my baby girl.

  I was almost on the verge of tears myself, but breaking down wasn’t a luxury I had. I needed to be strong, to keep it all in check for Faye’s sake.

  Right in the middle of my attempts to calm Faye, a knock sounded from my front door. I stood still for a few moments, wondering if it might’ve been a knock on one of my neighbor’s doors.

  But it sounded again, and now there was no doubt that it was someone at my apartment. I wasn’t expecting anyone, and a guest was the last thing I wanted with Faye acting like this.

  Still, I went to the door and took a
peek through the peephole. When I saw who it was, I gasped.

  Justin Donovan.

  Seeing him there was like something from a dream. I hadn’t seen him since our night together and hadn’t heard a word from him. And now, there he was, standing on the other side of my apartment door.

  Part of me wanted to ignore him, to hope that he’d go away. But with Faye making this much commotion, he had to know I was home. There was nothing to do but open the door and see what on earth he wanted.

  I took a deep breath and opened up.

  A warm smile was plastered on his face as I opened the door. My heart thudded in my chest as I looked him over, and I wasn’t sure what to say.

  “Hey!” he said. “Long time, no see!”

  Faye continued crying, and I rocked her back and forth as I tried to come to terms with what was happening.

  “Hey,” I said, my voice soft, barely audible over Faye.

  “Damn!” he said. “He’s got a set of lungs on him.”

  “She,” I said. “She’s a she.”

  “Ah,” he said awkwardly. He winced slightly, and I could tell that he wasn’t exactly used to the sound of a baby crying.

  “Something I can help you with?” I asked, my tone cold.

  Justin took in a slow breath and went on. “Listen. I know it’s…been a while. And I left a little suddenly last time.”

  “That’s one way to put it,” I said, holding Faye close.

  “True, true,” he said. “And I’m really sorry, if that means anything to you. But there’s something really important I want to talk to you about—something that might be what they call a ‘game-changer.’”

  I regarded him skeptically. “What are you talking about?” I asked.

  “It’s something that might be better talked about inside,” he said. “Mind if I come in?”

  I glanced back at my apartment, realizing what a mess it was of baby toys and blankets and all other kinds of kid stuff. No chance to clean up like before. But what did it matter now, really?

  I sighed and stepped aside.

  “Thanks,” Justin said, striding into my apartment like he owned the place.

  Once inside, he leaned down at Faye, wiggling his finger in front of her face.

  “Aw, what’s wrong little lady?”

  To my shock, Faye’s crying stopped. She calmed down as soon as Justin gave her his attention, coos replacing the wailing. She reached out and tried to grab onto Justin’s finger.

  “Cute kid,” he said as Faye gripped his finger, then stepped farther into the living room. “Mind if I have a seat?”

  Really, I wanted him to say his piece and get out. Seeing him there, dressed in his expensive clothes, a half-grin on his lips, almost made me want to smack the cocky out of him.

  “Fine,” I said. “But I want you to get to the point of why you’re here.”

  “Of course, of course,” he said, plopping down on the couch.

  I closed my eyes for a brief moment, savoring the quiet in the apartment now that Faye had stopped crying. As annoyed and shocked as I was to see Justin, at least he’d managed to get her calm.

  Justin stretched his arm out over the back of the couch and crossed his legs as he waited for me to sit down.

  Once I was in my chair, Faye curled up peacefully in my lap, I waited for him to start. I felt a tinge of anger in my stomach, one that began to spread.

  “Good to see you,” he said. “Things have been good?”

  “Fine,” I said coolly. Things had not been good, as a matter of fact. Between Faye’s temperament and the fact that my finances were still a mess from getting my car fixed, every day was a new source of stress. But I wasn’t about to open myself up to Justin like that.

  “Awesome,” he said. “Now, you’re probably wondering why I’m here, why I’ve come to see you after so long.”

  “Yep,” I said coolly. “You could say that.”

  He glanced away for a moment, as if trying to decide exactly how to say what he was going to say.

  “How do you feel about…reality TV?”

  “What?” I asked. Reality TV? What the hell was he talking about?

  “You like to watch it?”

  I was so shocked that my guard went down a bit. “A little,” I said. “If I’m not in the mood for anything actually good.”

  He titled his head to the side. “Sure,” he said. “It’s good to watch when you want something that’s not going to make you think too much. I’m not a huge fan myself. That is, until recently.”

  I said nothing, both because of my anger and because I was pretty damned curious.

  “Go on,” I said.

  “I’ll put it to you quick and straight: I’m starring in a reality show, and I want you to be a part of it.”

  I crinkled my brow in confusion. Surely, I had to have heard him wrong.

  “You’re what?” I asked, dumbfounded. “And you want me to what?”

  He clasped his hands together and leaned forward. “Just what I said. It’s called Baby in the Penthouse. The premise is that I have a single mom and her baby stay at my place for a week, and during that time I learn a thing or two about what it’s like to raise a baby.”

  I didn’t know what to say.

  “We had a girl and her baby all lined up for the gig, but she ended up dropping out due to…well, we don’t need to get into all that. The big issue is that I know you and—you know what? I never got her name.”

  He pointed toward Faye, who let out another coo.

  “Faye,” I said.

  “Ah, perfect name for such a cute kid.”

  Justin seemed different than how I remembered him. He was still charming, sure, but it was in more of a business way, as if I was a client he was trying to talk into working with him.

  Which, I supposed, was the case.

  “Anyway, you and Faye would come to stay at my place for a week. There, crews would film me helping you out with the day-to-day of raising Faye. I’d pitch in with feeding, changing, cleaning—all that good stuff.”

  “Wait a minute,” I said. “You think you’d be able to handle all that?”

  “Sure,” he said. “Why not? I mean, look at you—you’re able to do all this on your own. I’m sure I could swing it.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

  “‘Swing it’?” I repeated.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I run my own company. I’m sure raising a kid isn’t all that more difficult.”

  However angry I was before, now I was about to boil over. He clearly had no idea what the hell he was talking about, and I was inching even closer to giving him a piece of my mind.

  But before I had a chance, he went on.

  “Now,” he said. “I know you’re busy, and you’re probably still a little mad at me for what I pulled. So, I want to make it clear that I’m not asking you to do this out of the kindness of your heart.”

  He took a notepad out of his pocket along with a pen and jotted down a number on a piece of paper, which he tore off and handed to me.

  “Give that a look,” he said. “See if it sweetens the deal.”

  Hesitantly, as if he was in the process of playing a trick on me, I took the paper and opened it up.

  My eyes went wide when I read the number.

  “That’s for one week of work,” he said. “And we’d be working out some residuals with you, which means that you’ll get a small piece of the ad revenue if the show ends up in reruns.”

  Then he raised his finger.

  “And the show’s going to be featuring my Petit Bébé clothing line, which means we can get little Faye decked out with all the clothes and gear she’ll ever need.”

  I set the paper down, still in shock.

  I was all ready to throw Justin out on his ass—after all, why would I want to complicate my life further with something like this? But the money…that was, as Justin had said, a game-changer. With that payment, I could put money in savings, cover daycare and maybe eve
n move to a better apartment.

  “Now,” I said. “I’m not saying I want to do this. But I’d need to know all the details.”

  “Naturally,” said Justin. “How about I take you two ladies out to lunch. I’ve got a copy of the contract in my car, and I’ll go over all the odds and ends. No surprises.”

  “Fine,” I said. “No surprises.”

  I threw on some better clothes, and we were soon seated in the booth of a nearby diner. Justin went through all of the details of the show with me, letting me know what I’d be expected to do. It seems I was going to play the wise, put-together mom next to his bumbling wannabe dad.

  “What if I can’t do it?” I asked.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “The story’s told in the editing room. You just have to show up and look great.”

  When he was done, he handed me a pen.

  And, Lord help me, I signed.

  Chapter 13

  Heather

  “Now, fold here.”

  “Right here?”

  “Yep, and be careful—she’s a being a little fussy.”

  Justin’s face wore an expression of total concentration as he applied the diaper to Faye, who was on her back on the changing table in the nursery.

  “You look like you’re trying to defuse a bomb,” I said, doing my best to flash a TV-worthy smile.

  “Hey,” he said. “I saw what the old diaper looked like—that’s not too far from the truth.”

  Chuckles sounded from the crewmen in the room.

  “Okay,” he said. “So, I just put it here…and here…and…”

  “Done!” I said.

  A proud smile on his face, Justin hoisted Faye off the changing table and held her in the air. She giggled happily, now nice and clean.

  “Okay!” called out Craig, our director. “That’s good!”

  The tension left my body as Craig gave the sign that they were done filming for the moment. The crew broke up, talking among themselves as I stayed by Justin.

  “How was that?” he asked, handing Faye back to me. “I’ve never done that before.”

  “I could tell,” I said, giving the diaper an inspection. “But it looks good to me.”