The Solid Grounds Coffee Company

by Carla Laureano

  “I’ve got her settled in a hotel for now. Said I’d come by tomorrow and we’d discuss everything further. I need to think.”

  “She willing to take a paternity test?”

  Bryan took a gulp of the bourbon. “I didn’t ask her.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t want to be the guy who tries to weasel out of his responsibilities.”

  Mitchell nodded and thought for a second. “Here’s the thing, though. This is a responsibility. Not just financial, but emotional and spiritual. I know you, Bryan. You aren’t the type to just send a check. You’ll want to be part of your child’s future.”

  “And that’s a bad thing?”

  “No, that’s not a bad thing at all. Obviously, it would be better for you to be married to his or her mom, but there are plenty of couples who successfully co-parent. But, Bryan, what if the baby isn’t yours? She was engaged to someone else at the time.”

  “She says—”

  “Right, she says.” Mitchell paused thoughtfully. “What if she’s wrong and it really is Luke’s baby? Don’t you think he has a right to know his own child? Trust me, Son, you want to know all the facts in this situation.”

  “That’s pretty much what Ana said.”

  “Ana’s a smart woman.”

  “Yeah. Smart enough to see this mess and run as far from me as possible.”

  Mitchell took a long, deep breath and then placed his hand on Bryan’s shoulder. “I know I’ve been hard on you. I know I haven’t been shy about showing my disapproval. But I believe you’re a good man who has made some bad decisions and now you’re trying to remedy them the best you can. Don’t let whatever image you have of yourself cloud your judgment now.”

  “You mean just because I’ve done nothing but screw up until this point, don’t assume I screwed up this particular time?”

  “I’m saying don’t be so quick to fix a situation that might not be yours to fix.”

  His dad was making sense, but at the same time, questioning the baby’s paternity felt sordid and seedy. Like they were going to show up on the Maury Show to learn the results of the test and people were going to boo him for trying to get out of his child support.

  And yet the way Vivian had come to him in Suesca, knowing full well that she was marrying another man, knowing full well that he would think they were getting back together, hadn’t exactly been honest. She’d been living for the past eight months with her fiancé, who had taken care of her while she recovered from her injuries. Bryan wanted to believe that the Vivian he’d loved couldn’t be capable of playing some complicated game, but that wasn’t true.

  “You’re right,” Bryan said finally. “I’ll ask her tomorrow.”

  Mitchell nodded and finished his drink, then slipped off the barstool. “Whatever happens, Bryan, your mom and I are here for you. I hope you know that.”

  “Thanks.” He smiled at his dad, genuinely warmed by the gesture, but deep down he knew the truth. He had gotten himself into this mess, and he would have to get himself out.

  * * *

  The next morning, Bryan showed up at Vivian’s hotel room at nine thirty and rapped sharply on the door. After a bit of rustling inside, she opened the door, her expression surprised. “Bryan. Hi! I didn’t expect you so early.”

  “Can we talk? I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

  “No, not really.” She held open the door for him and stepped back. “I was actually just looking for an obstetrician to transfer care. Understandably, a lot of doctors don’t want to take on a patient in her ninth month, even though I have all my records.”

  He slipped past her and settled himself in the desk chair across from one of the double beds. The room smelled familiar to him, a combination of Vivian’s hand lotion and her herbal shampoo, unchanged after all these years. It struck an almost-indescribable yearning in him. Not for her, but for those days when he didn’t know any better than to be blindly in love with her. Had she told him she was pregnant back then, he would have been thrilled because it meant that he could hold on to her, pin her down long enough to marry him. Even now, as she lowered herself carefully to the bed, a part of him wondered why this couldn’t work. They could be a family, just the three of them. It wasn’t as if she were the only one who had made mistakes; he was more than culpable.

  And yet the thought of being with her, sleeping next to her, spending the rest of his life with her, made him feel ill because he knew that once the sense of responsibility wore off, there would only be unhappiness. He and Vivian hadn’t been a match; he could see that now. Their relationship had been passionate, but it had also been volatile, a string of breakups and makeups. He’d never been sure if they’d be on or off. And while at times it had been exciting, it had been exhausting as well.

  He felt no such reticence toward Ana.

  Vivian was watching him, her hands clasped in her lap. “What did you want to talk about?”

  “Well, just how this is going to work. Are you sure you don’t want to go back to California until the baby is born? You said you’re having problems finding a doctor. Wouldn’t you rather have your OB from home do the delivery?”

  Vivian shrugged. “I don’t really like him all that much. But he was on my insurance.”

  “Okay. In that case, do you still have insurance and does it cover treatment here?”

  “I think so. It should.” She blinked. “I don’t really know. Regardless, I want to stay here with you.”

  This was not the way he’d expected this conversation to go, and this was not the Vivian he remembered, forceful and decisive. “Viv, you need to know, if you stay here, I can’t pay your expenses. You’ll need to get an apartment of your own.”

  She blinked again. “I thought . . .”

  “I’m living with my parents right now. I’m starting a business. Pretty much every dime I have is sunk into it.”

  “But your parents . . .”

  “Are not responsible for either of us. I want you to know that I’m not going to try to shirk my duties to my child, but I’ll be making so little until the company gets on its feet, there’s not much to give you.” Now was the time to drop the real bomb on her. “And before we make any child support agreements, I want a paternity test.”

  Now her entire demeanor changed. “You’re calling me a liar?”

  “No. But you can’t blame me for questioning. You were engaged to another man at the time you say you got pregnant, and you went back to California and lived with him.”

  “The doctors were pretty clear. They—”

  “Get due dates wrong all the time. Genetics don’t lie. Viv, if it really is Luke’s baby, don’t you think he’d want to know? Would you really want him to miss out on his kid’s life?”

  Vivian rose from the bed stiffly. “I’d like you to leave.”

  Bryan nodded slowly. “If that’s what you want. You have the hotel room until Friday. Let me know what you’re going to do.”

  He quietly left the room, feeling her furious gaze on his back, but his initial niggling disquiet had grown to a full-out cacophony. He waited until he got to his car, then pulled out his cell phone and found Luke’s number.

  To his shock, Luke picked up on the first ring. “Bryan. I had a feeling I’d been hearing from you. Is Vivian with you? She’s not taking my calls.”

  “Yeah, she’s in Denver.” Bryan took a deep breath. “I think there are a few things we need to discuss.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  AT MIDDAY, the restaurant was jumping with activity, the noise level hovering somewhere between loud and deafening. For the third time today, Ana wondered why her potential client had picked this venue for their first meeting. The details of her situation were delicate; they weren’t the type of thing you wanted to shout over the conversations of your fellow diners.

  Ana gave her name to the receptionist and immediately the manager appeared at her side to lead her into a small back room. Now she understood. Louisa Ho
lliday commanded enough recognition that she could choose any restaurant in town and they would accommodate her need for discretion. The manager opened the door to the private room and let Ana in, then just as quickly excused herself.

  Louisa sat at one of the handful of tables, looking as delicate and exquisite in person as she did on screen. The translucent ivory skin and vibrant copper hair made her look like an illustration from an art nouveau advertisement. But when she turned to greet Ana, her voice was unexpectedly deep and sultry. It wasn’t hard to see why she’d taken Hollywood by storm.

  “I’m so glad to meet you, Ana.” She didn’t rise, just extended a hand and gripped Ana’s with a surprising amount of strength. “Please, have a seat. I hope you don’t mind. I ordered wine for us.”

  “I don’t mind at all. Thank you for meeting me.” Ana took her seat and placed her clutch on the edge of the table.

  Louisa’s eye went directly to it. “That’s a great bag. Is it the new Prada?”

  “It is.” She’d bought it as a way to bolster herself before diving back into her job. She wasn’t even officially back to work; her triumphant return all depended on her ability to snag this account today. Lionel hadn’t even been apologetic, and he hadn’t meant to be. That was the way things worked.

  “I like your style,” Louisa said.

  “Thank you.” Ana took a sip of her wine, a Riesling that tasted way too sweet for this early in the meal, but she wasn’t going to say that aloud. “Lionel told me you asked for me by name. I’m curious to know why. There’s no shortage of publicists in New York and Los Angeles who could have taken you on. In fact, they’ve probably been tripping over themselves to bring you on board.”

  Louisa chuckled. “Oh, they have been.”

  “So why me?”

  She put down her glass and looked directly at Ana. “For one thing, everyone expects me to hire a publicist from New York or LA, some power player who will minimize the damage and allow life to go on as usual.”

  Ana smiled slightly. “That’s generally what publicists do.”

  “And how much of that do you actually think the public buys? Come now, they’re sensitive to all the spin. They know when they’re being played. But if an actress were to go back to her hometown, where everyone knew her, where she could get support after the terrible ordeal she’d undergone . . .”

  “I’m sorry. I think I’m missing something. I was under the impression that the scandal was about you being caught in a hotel room with another man. While still married to someone who, by all estimations, is the most powerful director in Hollywood.” Ana spoke bluntly, watching Louisa’s expression as she did.

  “Who terrorized me and tried to control my life,” she said. “He’s really not the person everyone thinks he is.”

  Who is? Ana thought, but the obvious answer immediately sprang to mind. She shoved the thought of Bryan away and folded her hands on top of the table. “Let’s not play games here. Tell me exactly what you expect me to do for you.”

  “I expect you to do exactly what you did for Beth Cordero. You know, even I was surprised when she went on the talk show circuit talking about the pressures of competitive sports on children and how she escaped from under her father’s thumb. Everyone has completely forgotten the blood-doping issue. Did you hear that based on her speaking, there’s been an inquiry into harassment and abuse in winter Olympic sports? It’s brilliant.” She smiled. “When I saw that, I knew I wanted you.”

  Ana was beginning to feel sick at the implications. “To my knowledge, everything that Beth is saying is true. That wasn’t concocted.”

  “Oh, please. Her father was a nightmare, no joke, but to say that she was afraid for her life should she not perform?” Louisa chuckled, this time a little nastily. “That was a stroke of genius.”

  “How . . . how do you know all this?”

  “Oh.” Louisa’s eyebrows lifted. “You really don’t know. Beth and I go way back. We grew up together, kind of. Enough to say hello and catch up on old times if we run into each other at charity functions. Breckenridge is a small town. There’s no one who doesn’t know everyone else’s business. You think that no one would have intervened if there was real abuse going on? She was the darling of the entire town. Well, next to me, of course.”

  Ana couldn’t wrap her head around what Louisa was telling her. Beth Cordero had lied, had smeared her own father in order to repair her career and preserve her endorsements? Had all the corroboration been set up? Had the “witnesses” been paid off? And by whom? Beth? Or someone else entirely?

  Louisa was rattling on. “Basically, I wanted to make sure I got started as soon as we could, laying the groundwork. It will only be a couple of months before I’m showing, and I need to make sure the public is firmly on my side before that happens. It will still be nasty—have you been on social media lately?—but ‘driven into the arms of another man’ is a far better headline than ‘ungrateful upstart cheats on industry powerhouse.’”

  Lionel. It had been Lionel who had taken the responsibility for fact-checking Beth’s story. Now she remembered. It would be better for Ana not to be involved in that part, he’d said; she should focus on finding appropriate charities and speaking engagements for Beth while he made sure everything was on the up-and-up. Too sensitive, too high-profile to get wrong, he’d said.

  And now Louisa wanted Ana to do the same thing for her. Before anyone knew she was pregnant with her lover’s baby.

  It was so ridiculous, so close to her own messed-up life, that Ana started to laugh.

  Louisa’s eyes narrowed. “What’s so funny?”

  “Sorry. I . . .” She wiped her eyes, careful not to smudge her makeup. “I’m afraid I can’t help you, Ms. Holliday. And I’m afraid that Lionel was being too modest when he said that I was completely responsible for Beth Cordero. He played a big, really an essential part in the whole narrative, so I have absolutely no doubt that he will be able to do the same thing for you.”

  “But you’re a woman. It looks better if my publicist in this case is a woman who understands.”

  “I wish I didn’t understand quite so well.” Ana rose and took her purse. “Thank you for the wine. I’m sorry I can’t help you.”

  And without another word, she turned and left the restaurant.

  Once outside on the curb, Ana pressed a hand to her flushed forehead. Had she really done that? By walking away from Louisa Holliday, she’d ensured that she was never going back to Massey-Coleman. She’d probably ensured that she’d never get another crisis publicity job in Denver or anywhere else Lionel had connections. And for the first time, she realized she didn’t want one.

  She’d spent years trying to clean up other people’s messes, thinking they deserved a fighting chance in the court of public opinion. And maybe they did. Maybe her clients were just people who had made mistakes. But they had compounded their mistakes by trying to paper over them, by trying to pretend they weren’t human, by trying to make them go away. Instead of owning up to them and taking the consequences of their actions.

  Like Bryan had.

  She gave her valet ticket to the man at the stand and waited as he ran for her SUV, still parked down the street. She’d gotten it washed and waxed this morning to remove any errant water spot or swirl. They’d offered to detail the inside, but she’d said no thanks. She’d known she wouldn’t have to drive anyone today, so there were still cracker crumbs in the seat and a slight smear of almond milk down the inside panel where she’d spilled her latte on the way to the car wash. It didn’t matter. All anyone would care about was the exterior.

  The car came to a stop in front of her, and the valet opened the door so she could climb in. There was the faint leftover taint of old coffee inside. She threw her ridiculously expensive Prada purse on the passenger seat and slid off equally expensive shoes so she didn’t ruin them on the floor mats. And she sat there.

  She was every bit as shallow and mercenary as the Hollywood starlet inside the re
staurant.

  Bryan had never claimed to be perfect. He’d been a hundred percent up-front about who he was, the mistakes he’d made. Now that one of those mistakes had caught up with him, he was attempting to deal with it with integrity. And she’d rejected him for it because it made their relationship messy. Because it reminded her of how Robert had betrayed her.

  How she hadn’t been enough for him, and her flaws had made him go sleep with other women even while he was married to her.

  How for all her money and her success and her beautiful wardrobe, she was just as lost and confused and hurt as any of the people she worked for.

  She didn’t have anything together. And Bryan made her realize that for all their differences, they were exactly the same. Imperfect people trying to climb out of bad decisions.

  Ana realized that tears were sliding down her face, probably taking her eyeliner with them. The valet was peering into the car with concern now, unsure whether to tell her to move on or ask her if she was okay. She made the choice for him: she put on the signal and pulled away from the curb.

  At the stoplight, the guy in the car next to her stared at her and then quickly looked away. Funny how uncomfortable people got at a real show of emotion. It was okay if you could cry pretty; their discomfort came more from the disruption of the proper order of things than the feelings themselves.

  Then she glanced in the rearview mirror and started. Okay, she didn’t blame him for looking away quickly. She was frightening, like some creepy corporate zombie-clown from a not-quite-funny horror movie. As soon as she pulled into the garage of her building, she grabbed a wet wipe from her glove compartment and began to scrub the smeared makeup from her face.

  Then she stopped. Why was she so worried about what anyone thought about her? Why was she determined to keep everyone from knowing that she actually had emotions?

  She tossed the soiled wipe in her cup holder, grabbed her purse, and climbed out of the car. When the doorman did a double take, his face concerned, she just gave him a nod and climbed onto the elevator, where she rode up to her perfect apartment and walked into her perfect kitchen to place her cell phone on the charger.