Emily Uncensored Book 2: Long Island

by Fiona Lexus

  Cindy looks at me. Like really looks at me.

  “Do you want to look, or do you want me to look?”

  Shit, she always knows what I am thinking.

  I sigh, “Can you?”

  “Sure, sweetie. Let me just hold your pee-riddled stick in my hand.” She’s trying to lighten the mood. Cindy gets up and holds the stick.

  She is not facing me. When she turns around she is smiling.

  “Oh, fuck.” I say.

  “Oh, fuck is right. You have a human inside of you!”

  Cindy squeals and I can tell she is excited for me.

  I lay down on the bathroom floor and feel the cool tile beneath me. Cindy grabs my hand and pulls me up to my feet. She touches my face with her hand.

  “Emily, do you remember that time I told you that you should never have kids?” Her eyes are starting to pool with liquid.

  “Are you crying?” I ask.

  “Just answer the fucking question.” Cindy has her motherly authority face on.

  “Yes, I remember that very clearly. You were pissed at one of your kids for making you late to the formal. I forget which one. You have six.”

  I am joking but she doesn’t smile. Cindy just looks at me harder.

  “Well, I lied.” Cindy wipes her eyes. “Kids suit you, Emily.”

  I stand in the bathroom and watch Cindy walk into my room with her beverage and plop on my bed. I go in and plop down next to her. I am still in shock. Cindy starts laughing.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Now you have to tell daddy!” Cindy blocks her face because she knows I will hit her.

  “Fuck, yeah you’re right.” I close my eyes. “What’s the date?” I ask.

  “I think it’s the ninth? Why?” She looks over at me as we both lay on the bed.

  “I’m six weeks I think.” I sit up now and look out the window. The window in my room is large and I can see out over the park. There is a small boy playing in the dirt.

  I guess if I am turning this page, Glen Cove is a good place to do it.

  13

  All Business

  The next morning, I wake up early. Like, Jonathan early.

  He wakes up every morning around 5am to go for a run. He then sits at the dining room table and eats breakfast, drinks coffee and reads the paper. I’m assuming he loves this alone time he has, but today I am going to flip his world around a bit.

  Usually I wake up as he is sneaking out of the door around 7am. I don’t get out of bed at this time of course, because I never have to, but I need to be alert and ready this morning in hopes of catching him before he leaves.

  I walk down stairs dressed in a proper and sexy business outfit. Something I put together all by myself. Stockings, a black skirt, a blazer, and heels. I put my hair back in a slick and tight bun, pulling my face tightly back against my head. I even went to the trouble of buying glasses from Walmart. They aren’t prescription, but they really tie the ensemble together.

  I stayed up late last night to write up what I like to call “The Master Plan”. I will be showing it to Jonathan in a matter of minutes. I cross the living room floor holding stacks of papers, pie charts, and one neon-green poster board that I (begrudgingly) refrained from using glitter on.

  I come into the kitchen. It is 6:05am. I startle Jonathan.

  “What are you doing up?” He asks. “Holy shit! And what are you wearing? Is it bring your girlfriend to work day or something?” He is kidding and stands to kiss me, but I don’t let him.

  “Sit!” I exclaim, as I point to his chair.

  “Okay, what is this all about?” Jonathan is scanning my immature poster board and papers that are falling from my hands.

  “Just give me one second to set up shop.” I am fumbling. I don’t know how women wear heels like this to work and get anything done. Maybe they do it so they seem as tall as their male bosses, and therefore are less easily taken advantage of.

  I am finished and as I stand at one end of our long rectangle table, Jonathan folds his arms at the other.

  “I have a plan I want to share with you. I have written up what needs to happen.” I start in on the pie chart, which is cut into three section labeled: “work”, “home”, and the smallest sliver is “outings”.

  “May I ask what this is about?” Jonathan is not taking me seriously. He probably thinks I want to ask if I can buy something expensive. So not the case, Jonathan.

  “It will all be explained. You see, as of now we are not married. We have no plan, no stability. But what if there was a reason to settle down and stay here in Glen Cove and have that stability?” I rush through that sentence.

  “I thought you didn’t want that kind of lifestyle?” Jonathan uncrosses his arms and takes a sip of his coffee. He leans over the table trying to focus more on my babbling.

  “Yes, that is true, but sometimes things change and, see, if you look here on this pie chart (I am pointing) you will see that home and work are split evenly. As it is now, that is not the case.” I fumble through my papers and find the smaller pie chart I made and slide it across the table. “Take Exhibit One. This is the pie chart we have now. The work section is about nine-tenths of the page.” I stand and wait.

  “Okay, I get it, you think I work too much. Look, this is sort of what you signed on for.”

  I nod my head.

  “Okay, let me show you something else.” I pull out a list of names. Labeled on one side are boy names and the other side girl names. There are about twenty names on each side. I slide ‘Exhibit B’ across the table. Jonathan looks at it and gives me an alarming look.

  “What the hell is this?” He creases his eyebrows and looks confused.

  I am so bad at presentations! I think to myself.

  I hand over one last piece of paper which is a (horrible) drawing of a beach and two people having sex on it. Jonathan starts to laugh.

  “Emily, this is ridiculous, just say what you want. I can’t even make out if these are dogs or what.” He is laughing and puts the paper back down on the table. He leans back in his seat and puts his arms over his head like guys do when they are trying to show that they are relaxed or amused.

  “I’m trying to be serious,” I say, as I look through my other papers. “I just don’t know how.”

  “I know you don’t.” He laughs again and looks at his watch. “You look so sexy though, so we might have time for a quick one before work.” He starts to get up.

  “No!” I scream and hold up my hand. He looks stunned and sits back down. “I mean, just one more second.” I grab the neon poster board, which on the back reads: You’re going to be a father.

  As I am flipping it over I say, “Remember a few weeks ago at the beach, how amazing it was?” I flip it over all of the way.

  “Yes- I…” Jonathan trails off as he is reading.

  He looks up at me and his whole body is frozen. “You’re pregnant? You got dressed up like a secretary to tell me you’re pregnant?” He starts to stand and I can’t tell if he’s pissed or shocked or what, so I start to stutter

  “I… I… I thought you would take me more seriously. I…I’m not sure how this is supposed to go.” I lean back against the table and look at Jonathan in the eyes as he is approaching, trying to gauge his mood. He is so serious. He comes close to me and puts his hands in my hair.

  “Emily, I am so fucking happy right now.” He kisses me and grabs me like he’s never grabbed me before.

  I am stunned really, because I did not expect this. But I let out a sigh and am relieved. I look over his shoulder and let him hold me, trying to realize that the pressure is off. I have nothing to worry about.

  But it just seems too easy.

  “Wait, so you want one? Or is this just making you happy because now you have an excuse to leave?” I ask.

  He pulls away and looks at me with a concerned expression. “To leave? Why would I leave you? Is that what you think?” Jonathan looks truly hurt. I didn’t mean to hurt him. He backs away
from me. His tall, masculine body seems weak and loose, and not himself.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t really know what I think.” I can tell I am saying all of the wrong things.

  “Do you want to be with me?” Jonathan asks. He just looks at me. No jokes, no flirting, straight up. And I have to answer.

  I look down at all of my poster boards and hard work and intentions of keeping him happy, when all along I could have just been myself. I could have just been less afraid. Less doubtful, less self-conscious.

  “Emily, please answer that question.” Jonathan’s eyes are pooling with liquid.

  My first reaction is to give him a hard time about it. But then something dawns on me. No one has actually loved me as unconditionally as this man. This fucked up, workaholic man. This man who has a past, this man who still has my photo next to his bed. This man who bosses me around, but gives me everything I want. This man is strong and sexual, but now I realize, he is also tender. He is just as scared of losing me as I am of losing him. Maybe that is love? Maybe I am foolish.

  “Jonathan, I want to have your demon spawn, and I would like for you to never leave me.”

  So that just happened. I just said that. It sort of came out wrong, but he’ll get the picture.

  He smiles and grabs my hair again. “You are going to have my baby. That shit is crazy!” He kisses me on the lips and I let him fully sink into me. “You know? You should really dress up more often. I bet we could have like ten babies if you keep dressing like this.” He jokes.

  “Don’t get too excited buddy, your sexy girlfriend is about to balloon up like Kirstie Alley.”

  We laugh and embrace for a second time.

  “So does this mean you want to get married?” He steps back and gives me a serious look.

  “One thing at a time okay? Let’s not get carried away just yet.” I start to pack up my things and stack the papers.

  Jonathan starts to make his way up stairs.

  He yells down at me, “We should call your parents!”

  I look up and stop what I am doing. I sit in the chair next to me.

  Fuck!

  The thought of my mother smothering me with gifts and affection, and making goo-goo sounds to my kid, makes my stomach turn.

  Nope.

  That’s just morning sickness.

  I run to the bathroom.

  I guess nothing really prepares you for this shit.

  I puke.

  Then I smile.

  I smile with my teeth and look out the bathroom window. This cold floor is going to be my friend for the next few months.

  I am going to buy a ton of Hello Kitty stuff for this thing growing inside of me!

  OK, now I am a little excited.

  Gertie walks into the bathroom and rubs up against me.

  I must be dreaming.

  I pet her and she lets me.

  Author’s Notes

  Thank you for reading the second book in the Emily Uncensored Series, Emily Uncensored: Long Island.

  Buy my third book in the series Book 3

  To buy the first book in the series Book 1

  Join my mailing list here:

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  Check out my website www.fionalexus.com for more info about me, my work and whats to come, as well as my blog.

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  Also by Fiona Lexus

  1) Emily Uncensored Book 1: The Neighbors

  2) Emily Uncensored Book 3: It’s Complicated

  3) A Collection of Short Stories and Poems

  Coming soon… “Man Of The Month”

  Sign up for my mailing list on my website and I will keep you up to date on all of my launches!

  Check out this other indie author!

  At the end of every book I will have authors notes, maybe some reviews, and most definitely a sneak peak into some other books, either by myself or my favorite authors.

  Here is a couple chapters of a funny short novel by a new Indie Artist Pieter Lars called Everyday Apocalypse. Read, enjoy and if you want to buy his books, head over to www.pieterlars.com

  Independent author’s need support in anyway possible.

  Everyday Apocalypse: Season One

  Deadly Delivery Drones

  Tom and Samantha huddled under the reception desk. Mr. Phillips was over by the copier, and Grossman had fled to the break room where he and the underwriters had barricaded the doors.

  There was another flurry of frantic tapping on the glass of the front door, painfully loud in the otherwise silent office.

  "You sure that one's dangerous?" Mr. Phillips asked. "I was expecting a package today."

  "Feel free to go check," Samantha replied.

  Phillips glared at her over the open paper tray. He had loosened his tie and his mustache glistened with perspiration.

  The phone rang. Samantha winced and tapped her headset to answer. "Genesis Insurance Services. Can I help you?" Her voice was bright despite the drawn look in her eyes. "No, I'm sorry. Can you call back this afternoon? Yes. Yes, we are getting a delivery right now. Yes. Thank you for your understanding. I will have an agent call you for a quote." She hung up and gave Phillips an apologetic shrug.

  "What were you getting delivered?” Tom asked. “Something for the office?"

  Mr. Phillips muttered something under his breath. Something that sounded like Blu-Ray.

  "You're worried about a movie!? That thing could peel your face off!" Samantha's voice rose to a dangerous level. As if in response, the tapping on the glass took a more urgent rhythm. It really wanted to get in.

  "It's a Stanley Kubrick boxed set! The Criterion Collection!" Phillips hissed as he rose to a crouch, a look of determination on his face. He started to move towards the door but a beam of red light shone through the glass. It moved across the floor and up Phillips' chest to his face where it widened, scanning up and down. There was a high-pitched beep and then a series of crashes as the drone slammed itself against the door.

  The glass broke with a tinkle and the lobby filled with a whirring buzz. The delivery drone circled under the fluorescent lights, its rotors spinning in a furious blur. The red light flashed again from its nose cone.

  Samantha grabbed a three-hole punch from her desk and brandished it in the air, ready to fend it off. Tom was still huddled under the desk. He opened a drawer above him and searched blindly for a weapon, but all he found was a handful of binder clips.

  Phillips peeked over the copier and the drone's light flashed on his face. It let out an electronic screech and whirled toward him. Phillips, in a panic, ripped the paper tray out of the copier and rose, swinging wildly.

  The tray connected with a crunch. The drone crumpled and broke apart in mid-air. One of its rotor blades flew out and lodged in the center of the OSHA poster. Another struck the coffee machine which steamed and gurgled, spilling its contents across the reception desk. The drone fell to the carpet with a forlorn warble and twitched, releasing the brown package it had been holding in its clamped arms.

  They watched nervously until it fell still.

  Phillips prodded the sad little machine with the corner of the printer tray, then nudged the package with his foot. "You think we should open it?"

  "I think YOU should open it, once Tom and I are out of the room," Samantha replied. She pulled Tom to his feet and they ran down the hall and locked themselves in Tom's office, listening for Phillips' scream, or an explosion, or some other horror that the drone had been so intent on delivering.

  Nothing happened.

  A minute later Phillips knocked and came in. "Look, guys! It WAS my movies," he said with a grin, holding them up for Tom and Samantha to see. "How 'bout that. You think we should order a new coffee machine?"

  "How about we wait until next week," Tom said, straightening his tie.

  "Yeah. That's probably a good idea. You two want to come over
for a movie night?" He grinned for a moment, then his eyes widened. “Oh, god. I ordered a new golf bag, too.”

  “Why can’t you just have them sent to your house!?” Samantha yelled.

  “I don’t like packages sitting on my porch all day!” Phillips shouted back.

  There was another tinkle of glass from the lobby, followed by a high-pitched warble.

  Mega Flood

  The 14th floor veranda of the Trustfree Bank building had been converted into an waterside cafe for the week, complete with hanging lights, candle-lit tables, and a full complement of uniformed wait staff. The destruction wrought by the Sandworms two weeks prior had largely been repaired. Whatever hadn’t been repaired was under water.

  In fact, most of the city was under water.

  Tom had awoken Monday morning with a queasy feeling in his stomach. He shaved, got dressed, made breakfast, all the while stumbling from room to room and cursing himself for staying up too late the night before, drinking beer and watching television (his Seinfeld boxed set had come in the mail). He wondered if his motion-sickness would stay with him all day.

  Then he opened his front door to find salt-water sloshing over his stoop. A bright orange raft with oars bobbed in the water, tied to his mailbox. It had “National Eschatological Agency” painted on the side in big black letters.

  Tom looked up to see that the world had flooded. The queasy feeling in his stomach came from the fact that his entire condo complex was bobbing in the water. The NEA, or the city, or friendly neighbors, had attached huge flotation devices to the foundations, connecting each of the condo buildings with thick metal tethers.

  Well, he thought, at least it’s not just a hangover.