Diamond Girl

by ANDREA SMITH

  “Mom - please don’t take this the wrong way but I have been able to do simple math since first grade; I mean I know that you and Daddy were . . . intimate when you were way younger than me. I know that you were pregnant when you married. I mean how did you know that he was the right man?”

  (Holy hell - how can I possibly answer this without telling her a major lie?)

  “Honey, I’m going to be honest with you because you are a woman now and you deserve to be treated like one. You are right; I was young and I felt ‘pressured’ to have sex way earlier than I should have. Luckily, it worked out for me. I had the most wonderful child anyone could ever have wanted. The truth is your father and I have had our share of differences.”

  “I can see that Mom; I can see that you aren’t really close at all. I mean what’s the deal with separate bedrooms? I don’t for one minute think it’s because of your pregnancy. Then there’s . . .”

  She suddenly stopped talking; she was looking extremely uncomfortable with where the topic of conversation was headed.

  “There’s what, Lindsey?”

  “It’s just that Daddy seems inordinately interested in his assistant Susanne. I’ve noticed it at work; it is really starting to piss me off. I think you should call him out on it.”

  (Oh God! How in the hell am I going to deal with this? She loves her dad . . . )

  “Lindsey it’s complicated; please trust that I will do the right thing?”

  “I think there is much more to this Mom; if you truly believe that I am an adult - a woman - then why can’t you be upfront with me about it?”

  I was torn as how to answer my daughter. She was old enough to handle the truth - most of it anyway; yet she loved her father. I didn’t want her feeling pressured to take sides. She had opened the door for this, perhaps it was an opportunity.

  “Okay Lindsey, if you want the truth you shall have it. I only hope you can handle it.”

  She nodded, taking a seat at the kitchen table. I took a deep breath, opting to just spit it out, short and simple.

  “Your father and I don’t love each other; we probably never have. We both love you very much and always will. I’m pregnant with another man’s child.”

  (There it was; the Reader’s Digest version. She was either going to continue to love me, or hate me forever. It needed to be said though.)

  I watched Lindsey’s face as she digested the news; I saw no shock or disbelief at all. Had she always suspected? She reached across the table and took my hand in hers.

  “Oh Mom,” she said softly, “Does Daddy know about the baby not being his?”

  I nodded, tears welling up in my eyes. “I suppose you think I am the worst kind of mother,” I said, half-sobbing.

  “No Mom, how could I possibly think that about you? All of these years - the years when I became aware of things between you and Daddy - I wondered how you did it for so long.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I wasn’t blind, Mom. I had friends that I spent time with; going to sleepovers and camping trips with their families during the summers. I saw the way their parents interacted with each other; it was way different than the way you and Daddy interacted. I never actually saw you laugh together, or hold hands, or even kiss. I don’t mean to hurt you Mom, but I see Daddy laugh with Susanne. They talk all of the time, have lunch together. They’ve invited me, but I politely decline.”

  “Oh Lindsey, I’m not hurt that you’ve told me that at all. I figured as much. To your father’s defense, he was up against my father when I found out I was pregnant; he was pressured into the marriage. He wasn’t pressured into loving you though; you need to know that.”

  “I do know that Mom. I know that both of you love me and have always put me first. That’s why I have no problem at all with you putting yourself first for a while. I know how Granddaddy can be. He is very set in his ways and domineering. I have one other question for you, Mom.”

  I nodded, how bad could this be? The worst part was over.

  “Do you love the father of the baby?”

  (Oh wow! How could I explain this to her? She didn’t ask for an explanation though; she asked a simple question . . .)

  “Yes Lindsey; I love him.”

  “Does he love you, Mom?”

  I didn’t have to think long or hard about that question. Slate had never given me any reason to believe that he loved me, though I knew he cared about me. Those were two different things altogether.

  “I don’t know. I truly don’t know.”

  CHAPTER 40

  It was two days before my birthday; I was lying on my back with my feet up in the stirrups waiting for Dr. Bailey to come into the examination room. I had the paper sheet across my knees offering a small bit of privacy to protect what dignity I still possessed. I had learned quickly when I was pregnant with Lindsey that modesty goes out the window when it is all said and done.

  I thought about the discussion that Lindsey and I had the previous day. I was relieved to finally get it out there. She hadn’t pressed me for any further info on the baby’s father. I wasn’t ready to divulge all of that anyway. I did ask that she not let her father know that I had shared this with her. I explained it was a matter of pride for him. She understood. The truth was, I couldn’t tip Jack off that the marriage was over; though I hadn’t specifically told Lindsey that, she knew it was inevitable given the circumstances. She assured me that she would keep everything confidential for as long as necessary.

  The nurse had been in and taken all of my vitals; everything looked fine. I looked up at the ceiling and giggled at the sticker that had been placed near the light fixture. It read, ‘Smile - your doctor is watching you.’

  Just then I heard a bit of a commotion out in the hallway.

  “Sir, excuse me - you can’t go in there,” the nurse’s voice called out.

  (What the?)

  “You said exam room three, right?”

  (Oh dear God! That was Slate’s voice!)

  “Are you Mr. Dennison, sir?”

  “No,” he said with a smirk, “I’m the father of the baby.”

  My cheeks were flushed a rosy pink by the time the door opened and Slate sauntered in as if he had every right to invade my privacy. He shut the door behind him not bothering to notice that he had shut it in the nurse’s face.

  “Nice position you’re in babe,” he said, “Wonder if we can buy one of these tables for your room.”

  “What the hell-?”

  The nurse pushed through the door just then, extremely upset.

  “Mrs. Dennison,” she started, “I am so sorry-”

  “It’s okay; he can stay. He is the baby’s father.”

  (There it was out now; I could officially be thought of as a skank at my OB/GYN’s office.

  Whatever . . .)

  She backed out through the door telling me Dr. Bailey would be in shortly. I looked over at Slate; he was thoroughly proud of himself for the commotion he had caused.

  “How did you know I was here, Slate?” I was perturbed at his smugness; no I was pissed.

  “I know every move you make, Diamond.”

  “Why in the hell are you calling me that? You know my name now.”

  “I won’t call you Samantha - it’s too hoity-toity.”

  “Hoity-toity? Is that a real term, Slate?”

  “Okay how about pretentious then?”

  “I’m impressed. Then call me ‘Sammie’ like other people do.”

  “That’s what the rat bastard calls you.”

  “How about this: I tell the rat bastard that he can’t call me that anymore; that he has to use my pretentious name of Samantha - will that do it?”

  He smiled, gracing me with that scrumptious dimple. “If you promise you will enforce it with him, then yeah, I’m down with that.”

  He sauntered over to where I was still laying on my back, feet up in stirrups and lifted the paper cover up to take a peek.

  “Slate for crying out loud, a littl
e privacy would be appreciated here.”

  “Aww babe; it’s not like I haven’t seen, touched or tasted it all before,” he smirked. He put the cover back down and leaned over, giving me a kiss on the lips.

  “Why are you here?”

  “Just being supportive of you, babe, in your delicate condition. I want to hear what the doctor has to say; make sure that you’re doing everything that you are supposed to be doing and that things are progressing like they should.”

  Just then, Dr. Bailey came bustling in with my chart. He was in his late fifties; a no-nonsense type of man with snowy white hair and bushy eyebrows to match.

  “Well, Samantha, I see we have your husband with us today.”

  (Holy crap!)

  Dr. Bailey had not been my OB/GYN with Lindsey, though he had all of my records from my earlier doctor that had since retired. He held his hand out to Slate. They shook hands. I hoped like hell that Slate didn’t blurt out anything inappropriate.

  “Pleased to meet you, doctor. I wanted to be here to make sure you have all of the information you may need.”

  (What the hell is he talking about?)

  Dr. Bailey clearly looked perplexed at the moment, glancing over my chart once again.

  “I’m not sure if the record shows that my blood type is O negative; I know that’s important information if Sammie has a negative blood type,” Slate explained.

  (Oh geez; couldn’t he have simply asked me that question himself?)

  Dr. Bailey was scratching his forehead now, turning over various sheets contained within my file.

  “Your wife’s blood type is B positive; you didn’t know that, Mr. Dennison?”

  (Shit! Here we go!)

  “No Doc; I’m not Mr. Dennison; I’m the baby’s father.”

  (I wanted to bury myself under the paper sheet at the moment; I would have pulled it up over my head if it wouldn’t have left my crotch area exposed for everyone to see!)

  “I see,” Dr. Bailey replied, with a slight frown. “Well now that we’ve cleared that up, there is no cause for worry then Mr. - ?”

  “You can call me Slash.”

  (Oh dear Lord!)

  “Ok then - Mr. Slash,” he said, turning towards me now, giving a slight nod of his head as if clearing his mind of confusion.

  The doctor pulled the paper sheet down a bit, squeezing some of the warm, clear gel onto my abdomen, rubbing the wand around so he could pick up the baby’s heartbeat.

  “Nice and strong,” he said. I watched as Slate caught the sound of it and noticed a look of pure joy flicker across his handsome face.

  The nurse came into the room signaling that it was time for Dr. Bailey to do my pelvic exam.

  “Mr. Slash, if you will step outside for just a moment, you can return once the nurse leaves and I will be happy to answer any questions you may have.”

  “Sure, Doc,” he said, giving me a wink. “Be right back, Sammie.”

  As soon as Dr. Bailey finished, he snapped off his latex gloves and instructed me to sit up. I wrapped my paper sheet around my lower half as Slate re-entered the examination room.

  “Everything looks good and on schedule,” Dr. Bailey reported. “Your weight gain is appropriate; your vitals are perfect; you have no complaints, so I would say just continue doing whatever it is you’re doing and I will see you next month.”

  “Doc,” Slate started, “I do have a question.”

  (Oh My God! I hope like hell it’s not an embarrassing one . .)

  Dr. Bailey looked up from where he was making notations on my chart. “Yes, Mr. Slash?”

  “Is it safe for us to continue having sex regularly?”

  (Dear God - I’m going to kill him!)

  I actually saw Dr. Bailey blush. Slate didn’t bat an eye waiting for an answer. Dr. Bailey cleared this throat.

  “Yes, Mr. Slash; it is safe to continue having sex as long as Samantha is comfortable with it. I would caution against anything too . . . rough or strenuous.”

  “Got it,” he said; “Thanks, Doc.”

  Dr. Bailey left the room; Slate stood there with a dopey grin on his face. I was fuming.

  “Would you mind waiting outside for me? I’d like to have some privacy while I get dressed,” I hissed at him.

  “Are you pissed, babe?”

  “Nooo,” I said with an exaggerated sigh, “Why in the hell would you think I was pissed?”

  “We’ll talk outside,” he replied, slipping out the door.

  Once outside Slate was on my heels as I headed to where my Mercedes was parked.

  “Hey slow down, Sammie. Want to tell me what the hell has you in a snit? Is it some type of hormonal thing?”

  I clicked the remote unlocking the car door and opened it. “No Slate; it is not a ‘hormonal’ thing; it is more of an ‘assholey’ thing. You made an ass out of yourself in there and embarrassed me to boot.”

  I started to get into the driver seat but his strong arm reached out and pulled me back to him.

  “Hey,” he snapped, “I didn’t mean to embarrass you Sammie, but my mother told me that I should find out if your blood type was negative too; she said it could cause complications with the baby.”

  “Okay, so now your mother knows about this?”

  He nodded, as if that was the most normal thing in the world.

  “Why couldn’t you just have asked me about my blood type?”

  “Because I haven’t seen you since I talked to her about it.”

  “Whose fault is that?”

  “Oh, I see; you’re pissed cause I haven’t been by to service you,” he chuckled.

  “That has nothing to do with it, Slate; it was your barging into the exam room, making sure that everyone knew you were not my husband, asking about having sex and calling yourself Slash for Chrissake - of course it pissed me off!”

  “Okay, okay,” he said, pulling me to him. “I’m sorry babe; I really am. I can’t blow my cover though. You understand about that, right?”

  I nodded against his chest.

  “I am going to be there for you Sammie; I guess I didn’t tell you that before; I mean if you want me there that is.”

  “I do Slate,” I replied softly, hugging him. “Just maybe a little more low key though?”

  “You got it, babe.”

  He kissed my lips softly several times, giving a low groan as I pulled away to get into the car.

  “Have you been keeping the door unlocked for me?”

  “Yep,” I said, “For all the good it has done.”

  “I will be there when I can. I miss you, too.”

  With that he was gone, quickly and quietly disappearing around the corner. It was almost magical at times the way he would turn up unexpectedly; he could disappear the same way. I sighed as I started the car and headed home.

  CHAPTER 41

  I had slept restlessly all through the night. I wasn’t sure if it was because I kept hoping Slate would pop in and surprise me with a mind-blowing orgasm; or because I was simply on edge and had no clue why. I finally drifted off to sleep around five in the morning. I was dozing somewhat peacefully at 10:30 a.m. when my cell phone rang. It was Brenda. I was still in somewhat of a sleepy fog when I answered.

  “Sam - turn your television on right now to the local news on Channel 7; you have got to see this.” She hung up before I had a chance to ask her what the hell was going on. My hand felt around for the remote on my nightstand; I switched the television on and rolled over on to my side to watch as I hit the buttons for Channel 7. Apparently, whatever was happening had pre-empted the regularly scheduled programming.

  There was a man in a suit and tie talking into a multitude of microphones attached to a wooden podium. At the bottom of the screen, lettering was scrolling by which identified him as U.S. Attorney General Joe Hodgett. He was addressing a roomful of press and media reporters; it looked like there were local authorities in attendance as well.

  “Ladies and Gentlemen,” he began, “Earlier thi
s morning, federal agents and special task forces executed a number of search and arrest warrants in Indianapolis, Fort Wayne, and Ohio. FBI agents, along with the assistance of U.S. Marshalls and local law enforcement personnel have arrested and taken into custody forty-two members of the Outlaws Motorcycle Club both in Fort Wayne and Indianapolis; one warrant remains outstanding for a club member that remains at large. In the following days it is expected that additional indictments will be handed down as the investigation reveals the identification of others that may have been involved in these criminal activities. These indictments include racketeering, mail fraud, money laundering, extortion, drug trafficking, insurance fraud and various federal firearms charges.”

  I stopped listening to what this guy was saying as my attention was drawn to the video that appeared on the backdrop screen behind the podium.

  I recognized him by his lean, muscular build and his swagger as he led one of the bikers over to a paddy wagon in cuffs. He had on a navy blue tee shirt that had large, white letters across the chest that read: ‘F B I’. He had on a matching navy blue ball cap with the same insignia. I had to smile; only Slate would wear the ball cap turned backwards on his head like some gangster agent. I watched in awe as he went back inside the club house and came out with another one in cuffs. I recognized this one as ‘Hammer’; he used to come into Jewels with Slate and the others.

  Another FBI agent caught my eye as he was struggling with a biker; it was Taz! Holy shit; Taz was an agent as well? He seemed to fit in so perfectly with the OMC; I remembered Slate saying that Taz was ‘living the dream.’ I watched as my ‘G-man’ loaded the paddy wagon with more members of the club. This had to be big; really big. Chills ran through me as I watched the agents and task force members corral the bikers into several paddy wagons. There was yellow crime scene tape surrounding the entire property.

  The voice of U.S. Attorney Joseph Hodgett once again caught my attention:

  “In conclusion, the on-going investigation will likely take weeks if not months to identify everyone involved in what has been termed one of the largest and extensive criminal networks in Indianapolis and throughout the Midwest. Today’s initial arrests reflect our dedication in dismantling a criminal organization that pumped a deadly mixture of drugs, violence, and fraud into this city. These charges also serve as a reminder that if you are involved in organized crime in Indianapolis, if you assist these groups in any way, you will wake up one morning soon to the sound of federal agents at your door.”