by Adair Rymer
The mother of Maynard's child, that's who.
Bianca was on the phone when I entered the room. My false bravado wilted when Bianca glanced at me then scowled at her secretary. The woman behind me froze until Bianca dismissed her, then she gestured for me to sit in one of the room's uncomfortable chairs. Maynard's office was so much warmer in theme and tone, whereas Bianca's was one gastrointestinal system poster away from being a doctor's office.
Bianca looked me over with a clinical gaze, her eyes lingered on my stomach. Content with whatever she saw, Bianca turned her chair away from me and continued her phone call.
It was a mid-July heatwave and I wore a tent-y tank-style dress and large breezy hat. I had just hit the six-month mark and wasn't exactly trying to hide anything anymore. Maynard's stripper baby mama scandal had broken in the tabloids the previous month.
All the looks I received from strangers made me feel awful. I hated knowing that so many people had these horrible opinions of me. Every time I stepped outside I felt judged. Being in the limelight was torture. How did Maynard tolerate this?
This last month at college had been particularly hellish. For as much as I wanted to curl up under a blanket and hide in my apartment, I couldn't until my final exams were over. My grades had slipped throughout this circus that was my life, but I checked online and saw that I had passed everything. I had hoped to maintain the Dean's list all the way to the end but that was impossible.
It was all finally over. I was a college graduate now.
One trendy classmate had the gall to ask me if my boyfriend bought my grades for me. I blew her off but I took her comment home with me. There was no truth in it I earned that diploma. It still cheapened everything I worked so hard for. I could only hope that employers didn't think the same way that girl in my class did.
Several long minutes later Bianca hung up her phone and turned back to me. You'd never know that she was no longer a CEO to look at her. Bianca was technically unemployed but still looked every bit the professional in her pencil skirt and matching two-button jacket.
“Doing about what, dear?” Bianca asked. “The part where my emotional brother pummeled a man half to death in a room with nearly two dozen witnesses? Or the part where the judge, who is obviously a friend of the Milspoor family, has suddenly taken a hard stance against the favorable biases the one-percenters receive through the legal system?”
“You make it sound like you're not New York royalty.”
“We might have been that once, while my parents were still alive, and Maynard was too young to take up residence on every front page in the city.” Bianca stood up and straightened her dress. She pressed the intercom button for her secretary. “Tea. Two cups.”
“You're still a billionaire for fuck's sake.” I was nearly shaking because of her cavalier attitude about the whole thing, and also because I was so nervous. I felt like I was over my head but I pressed on anyway. “Get him out of there!”
“After the reckless course he's been on it might do him good to cool his heels for a few months.”
Maynard was her brother, did she really not care what was happening to him?
“Cool his heels? Maynard isn't in a day spa or on a holiday; he's in a prison!”
“I am well aware of my brother's current location.” Bianca's tone took on a harder edge and her eyes narrowed. She made it clear that she wasn't the kind of woman that got screamed at.
I froze in place and started to sweat. Was I really yelling at the most powerful woman in New York? I was twenty-four weeks along, could I blame the baby yet for my temporary insanity?
In the tense silence that followed, the secretary came in quietly, and set a tray down on a side table that looked to be designed for only that function. The woman poured two cups of tea and laid out a variety of sweeteners and creams on the small table. I'd noticed that those additions were only brought for my benefit. Bianca's tea was black and untainted when it was brought to her.
Mine was left on the table. I wasn't important enough to get it handed to me. That's fine, I thought, defiantly. I was a coffee girl anyway. That, and I was too scared to move under Bianca's glare.
Bianca turned back toward the window and tasted her tea. For a woman who was always so busy, she wasn't in any rush now to finish this conversation. Every move she made and every lengthy silence that went unfilled reminded me where I was. This was her house and I was here at her leisure.
“I understand that you're worried,” Bianca said. “What's being done to him is unfair. But trust me when I tell you that I am doing everything I can to expedite his situation.”
“Tell me what you're doing.” I didn't want to be placated. I needed to know that Maynard was really being helped. I swallowed hard and found the courage to press on. He'd have done that for me without a second thought. “You know that I'm pregnant. Maynard is a part of my life forever now. I'm not going to conveniently disappear.”
At least I hoped I wasn't!
No, Bianca always terrified me, but not for those reasons. I honestly didn't know if I would be able to confront her like this. I must have made a hundred excuses why I shouldn't on the ride here alone. She was just a hard woman to be around and she had a way of dominating every situation she was in.
I guess Maynard was the same way, well, not the exact same way. Maynard was more sexually dominant. I felt my temperature rise and my stomach tense at the memory of his touch. I thought I'd be able to deal with not having sex considering my dry spell before and after Chance, but I was seriously aching for Maynard.
The most frustrating part was that we had gotten back together. We were hours away from— I had to shake my head to clear the scorching image of beads of sweat trailing down his muscled torso.
“Our team of lawyers have worked out a plea deal for Maynard. He will be fined, and given one year of probation.” Bianca faced me again and raised an eyebrow.
I stood there for a long moment feeling indecisive. What now? I hadn't gotten this far in my head. I figured that it would be more difficult to get answers out of Bianca or at the very least the conversation would last a little longer.
“Good.” I said, picking up my tea and taking a sip. If she could drink it black then so could I. She was beginning to take me seriously, that made me swell with a little pride. I was able to get something I wanted out of the icy witch—
Oh, god! So bitter! I casually turned my back to her and then let my face scrunch up from the taste of the tea. How did she drink it like this? I added what must have been four tablespoons of honey and turned back around as if nothing had happened.
“Good,” I repeated, trying to fill that damn chilling silence.
“Did you think I was keeping this information from you out of spite?”
“What?” The question caught me off guard. I breathed in a sip of the hot tea by accident and coughed.
“I was going to see you once everything was finalized.” She let the sharpness slip from her voice. “I remember my college finals being very stressful. I didn't want to distract you from your studies.”
I didn't have any reason to believe she was lying, it just felt odd hearing her try to relate to me. What could a billionaire heiress and I possibly have in common?
“Too late for that.” I took another sip to wash down my rough, suddenly dry, throat.
“Apparently.” She frowned, then sighed with a hint of disgust in her voice. “People can be cruel for cruelty's sake. You graduated, yes?”
“Yeah. The ceremony is coming up but I'm not going.” I still needed to find a way to break that to my parents. My father in particular was looking forward to it because I'm the first Tremont to graduate college.
“You're not going?”
“No, thank you. I'm all set with public appearances for a while. I'm not looking for work as a punching bag.” The thought of all the hushed tones, snide comments, and sidelong glances made me shiver. I didn't care how form concealing that black gown was.
“You
should go.” Bianca walked closer to me.
“Why?” And why did Bianca all of a sudden care about any of this? This was a woman who seemed to barely tolerate me. I could probably count on one hand the times we had spoken to each other directly.
“Because we are not defined by the opinions of others, only by our own actions. I would never have become CEO of a multi-billion dollar company if I had allowed myself to be dissuaded by my contemporaries. You are entitled to that stage and those accolades just as much as anyone else.”
It wasn't just the words that had the impact on me. I didn't know if it was the way she said them, or just the fact that she was the one saying them, but I was stunned. She was right, I did bust my ass in high school and college to get to this point. It was a big deal. I didn't know how to respond to that unexpected encouragement and fortunately I didn't have to.
“Your five o'clock appointment is here, Ms. Cooper,” the secretary's voice rang out over the intercom speaker. Bianca checked her watch but otherwise ignored the notification.
“I don't dislike you, Claire.” Bianca must have seen the shock and awe all over my face because that prompted her to clarify. “Quite the opposite in fact. I think you are just what Maynard needs.”
“More than that actually.” She cocked her head ever so slightly as if forcing herself to speak more freely. This was unfamiliar territory for her. “You stayed in your apartment and finished school when it would have been far easier to simply run off with Maynard and live in a wealthy insulated fairytale. I admire your dedication to your ideals.”
Bianca was cold, ruthless, intelligent, and did whatever it took to accomplish her goals. However, beneath all that, I’d come to find out that she actually was a good person. Hard around the edges and... slightly less hard on the inside. My parents would love Bianca.
“Uh... Thank you. That means a lot.”
Bianca bowed her head slightly and opened the door for me to leave.
“Don't worry, Maynard and I have a plan. I will be in touch.” She promised.
And I believed her. I arrived, angry and afraid and I left respecting her so much more. Despite her utter lack of social niceties Bianca really was inspiring. It was completely crazy, but talking to her made me think that we might all pull through this. For the first time in months everything didn't feel completely hopeless.
All those good feelings wouldn't last long, nothing could've prepared me for what came next...
Chapter 27
Maynard
“Alright, Cooper, let's go.” The guard opened the door and threw me the gray jumpsuit. “Visitation.”
Staring at these cell walls nearly fifteen hours a day tended to put things into perspective. Aside from talking with my neighbor Marco, all I could do was read, write letters, exercise, and think. The latter of which I did the most of.
All trains of thought ended at Claire Station.
It was October. After six extremely boring and occasionally dangerous months I was about a month away from seeing the only person that gave my life real meaning.
I stripped down and changed while the guard was present. Privacy was a distant memory. I put on my 'Sunday Best' for my lawyer's visitation and let the guard lead me out of the cell. They put me in the jail house for short sentences while I waited for a court date that would never come. Bianca's lawyers had pulled off a deal that was basically a slap on the wrist.
I stopped just outside the cell of the inmate across the hall. The guard patiently waited behind me. He, like every Corrections Officer I encountered, was extremely accommodating once they realized who I was.
Everyone knew that the world would listen to what I had to say once I was released. Given all the bad publicity and massive reforms facing the prison already, the warden made sure that every officer was on their best behavior around me.
That wasn't the case when I first arrived though.
After processing, I was placed in a sixty-bed dorm room that was at capacity with other inmates. I got into three fights that night before the guards put me in a private cell. Even in here I was a celebrity, unfortunately that meant that I was a target.
At least until I got access to my commissary, then everything changed.
Once I had the ability to have deposits made in other people's accounts, things got much more comfortable for me. Well, as comfortable as they could get in one of the worst prisons in the country.
But comfort wasn't what I spent most of my money on.
“You're absolutely sure, Marco?” I hammered a fist on the heavy door of Marco Rodriguez.
Marco was only here on a misdemeanor but he had been separated due to his extensive criminal connections. He had a finger on the venomous pulse of the underground. There weren't many big moves made in the country that he didn't at least know about.
Information was what cost me the most. It was worth every penny.
“On my Momma's grave.” Marco shouted back. I was certain he was of Latin descent but I'd never seen him in person. “Hey! Rook to C two. Better luck next time, Hoss.”
“Damn.” That was checkmate. I nodded to the guard and we resumed our walk down the hall.
Marco was the most brilliant man I’d ever met. He and I would pass the time playing chess. We would yell our moves through the thick metal doors and make note of them on our personal hand drawn chess boards. Of the dozens of times we played, I had never been able to beat him.
That was why I trusted that the name he told me was worth the small fortune I had paid for it.
Something terrible had happened about a month back in Chicago. A massive fire ravaged several poorer and working class areas. Many small, independently-owned businesses were destroyed. One of which was Claire's father's shop.
The official word was that a freak electrical accident caused the fire, but I had my reservations. The conversation I had with Anthony that night nine months ago in his office buzzed around my head like a fly in a glass jar.
Lucas James.
That name cost me three-hundred-thousand dollars. Lucas didn't light the fire that destroyed Hal's business. He was the guy who hired the guy who lit the fire. I was interested in who hired Lucas.
Now that I knew Lucas' name I could begin connecting the dots. When all those dots were filled in, I was certain I'd be looking at a picture of Anthony's face. I knew that this was his dirty work, and once I got enough evidence I was going to nail that motherfucker to the wall.
I looked up at the camera above the final threshold that led to the dance floor and waited for the electric locks on the door to buzz open. We called it the dance floor because the visitations took place in the gymnasium and the majority of the visitors were women. They were all lined up on the opposite wall when we were allowed in.
It was all very reminiscent of an awkward seventh grade school dance.
Other inmates lined up behind me and we were all let through in one long stream. My eyes nearly fell out of my head when I saw her. It wasn't my lawyer that had come to see me, it was Claire.
She was so pregnant, I couldn't believe it. Where everyone else had to stay standing, they had let her sit at one of the tables near the entrance. She was sweaty and tired from the all-day affair that was involved when you went to visit someone here, but her face lit up when she saw me.
The hardest part was that I couldn't go to her immediately. I had to wait for the last inmate to be let in, then for the CO to look us over again. He recited the rules in a rushed, barely understandable tone, then gave us the all-clear.
As much as I wanted to I couldn't run over to her. It was hard to describe how it felt seeing Claire after so long. I was actually a little angry. No, that wasn't right. Protective, was a better word for it. She shouldn't be here like this!
Claire stood up and reached for me when I got close. We were both beaming when we embraced. I couldn't remember anything feeling as good as wrapping my arms around her.
“You look and smell fucking amazing.” I breathed in as much of h
er as I could. Prison has a certain unpleasant smell to it, even in the clean areas. Claire was a literal breath of fresh air.
Claire laughed, not because it was funny, but because it was a relief. This was the first time I'd seen her visibly pregnant and the prison had also forced her to wear this green triple XL T-shirt over her clothes. I didn't know what she was thinking, but I was sure she didn't think she looked too pretty at the moment.
“Break it up,” a wandering CO warned. Everything here had strict policies. Hugs weren't to last more than thirty seconds, and each couple was allowed only two kisses: one at the beginning of the visit, and one at the end.
“I don't feel that pretty.” She had brushed her shoulder length hair back as she sat down. She had let it grow since the last time I'd seen her, it was a good length on her.
I let my famished eyes feast on her soft, now blushing, features. She had obviously put on weight but she wore it really well. Aside from that, the rest of her features were exactly as I imagined them every night.
I placed a hand on her stomach. It was warm and hard and her belly button poked out in a little nub. A sudden jolt from inside nearly caused me to pull away. I had never felt a pregnant stomach before and didn't know if I had somehow hurt her. It wasn't the movement itself but the realization as to what it represented that rocketed a shock of excitement up my spine.
That was my child in there.
I had spent a lot of time thinking about what that meant but it wasn't until I felt the baby move that it all fully became real. It was the difference between seeing Niagara Falls in a picture, and riding over it in a barrel. There was just no comparison.
I was going to be a father. Suddenly all the other trivial shit in my life melted away. “You have never looked better to me.”
She replied with a weak smile. Seeing her button nose and cheeks with a perpetual hint of blush in-person soothed away some of the pain that had been building up inside me.
She bit back tears and stared at me like I'd come back from the dead. It was a heavy, watery look that prickled the little hairs on my neck. Her bright green eyes were what I missed most about her. They were the color of fresh cut grass, summer breezes and freedom. All the money in the world would never buy me that feeling she gave me.
