“Stevie.” Her eyes are swollen, all crimson, not one trace of white. Her lips are lush and full, and, for a moment, everyone in the room fades away, and I’m tempted to kiss her.
“What do you want to do?” The bouncer swings something, and it takes a moment to register it’s a baseball bat.
“Five minutes.” Stevie says it weak.
I tick my head at the bat-wielding idiot.
“Alone.” She closes her eyes. The girl gets up and takes the baseball bat-wielding maniac with her.
“Stevie,” it comes out less than a whisper.
She pats the seat next to her, and I don’t hesitate pulling her onto my lap.
“Did she have you paint the nursery yet?” Stevie bleeds out her sarcasm like the letting of a wound.
I bury my face in her hair, and she doesn’t stop me. My heart pounds over her back, trying to stomp its way out of my chest and into hers. I can’t help feeling that our days are numbered. She might have let me in this time, but what happens when Evelyn starts to show off a round belly? When I’m holding an infant in my arms? Why in the hell would she want to stick around for that brand of heartache? I’m hoping because she loves me, but we haven’t crossed that bridge on a good day. I’m not sure why I’m holding out hope right now.
“What do you think should happen?” She lays her head on my shoulder and looks up at me with those doe eyes, those relentlessly long lashes teasing me with every wink because it feels as if I can never have her again.
“I don’t think anything should happen. Evelyn is having a baby—”
She touches her finger to my mouth. “You and Evelyn are having a baby.” A smile plays on her lips as if she were in on some big secret.
“I’m not interested in a future with Evelyn. If she’s having my baby, then, yes, she’ll be in my life, but just as far as our child is concerned.” Fuck. I squeeze my eyes shut tight and demand the room morph into my bedroom to prove that this entire day is just one long nightmare that felt all too real.
“So if—when Evelyn has your baby”— her eyes meet with mine, sad, far too injured for me to comprehend—“if I wasn’t in the picture, what do you think would have happened?”
“You are in the picture, Stevie. I don’t play what-ifs.”
“Do you think you’d marry her?”
“If I did, it would be strictly out of stupidity and obligation. What you and I share is real. Anything I ever shared with Evelyn is a hollow shell. We never should have stayed around one another this long. It’s probably toxic at this point.”
“She is toxic, isn’t she?” Stevie gazes out at the wall. “I’m sorry, I probably shouldn’t be talking about the mother of your child that way.”
“I’m not offended by the truth.”
“Tell me”—Stevie repositions herself until she’s looking at me fully—“what would you do if you found out this was just some game, some conniving scheme to keep her claws buried in your heart?”
“No.” I’m quick to refute the idea. “She would never do that. Evelyn is a lot of things, but reprehensible is not one of them. She had the stick.” A flashback from that horrific scene in her office comes to mind. “I promise you, she’s having a baby.” My baby but I leave that part out. Stevie and I just stepped into my worst nightmare. I’d give anything for that baby to be hers.
I bury a mournful kiss on the top of her head.
“What happens to us, Ford?”
My chest pinches tight, and it takes all I’ve got to fight the tears the hell off.
“We stay us.” I bury a kiss in her hair. “We stay us, Stevie.”
9
A Vapor in the Night
Stevie
A late October heat wave swelters the Southland with its parched affection, licking the city dry from its every orifice. Bronze skies lay overhead, heavy and dusty, with all the intention of slamming over us like a lid while we sizzle under its oppression.
On Friday, Jinx is buzzing, alive with a hostile air, the smell of fear lingers thick in every corridor. I bump into Carter as herds of people file into the boardroom.
“What’s going on?”
“Trouble.” He gives a quick grimace, and for the first time I see a glimpse of Ford in his eyes. “Why don’t you come in—bring your friend. This is going to be one hell of a learning experience.”
“Done.” I turn to get Bella, and he gently pulls me back. Carter studies my face for a moment with a twinge of pain written over him. “I heard about what happened. I’m sorry. If it’s too hard for you to work under Evelyn, you’re welcome to work with me.”
I throw a quick glance to the office with its open door, dark as a mouth, and cringe. Bella comes out with that same look of fright she has every morning after being accosted by the queen of mean. “I need to be there for Bella, but I also need to be there for me.” It’s going to be a hell of a lot more satisfying teaching the evil witch a lesson when I’m right there on the front lines. This war isn’t over by a long shot. “I’ll be fine, but thank you for the offer.”
I wave Bella over, and we follow Evilyn to the boardroom where she takes a seat of prominence right next to the object of her obsession, Ford. I watch uneasily as he pours her a glass of water, as he whispers tenderly into her ear, and she fans herself in response. Ford asks Carson to turn up the AC.
I don’t know why it makes me sick to see him comforting her, meeting her every need. Ford is a great guy—if he knew Satan was incubating his child he would be kind to the devil himself.
I glance down at my barren belly. The doctor in the ER said there was no heartbeat, whatever I had probably reabsorbed into my body. There’s that. I had my child for less than was ever fair, and, in that short time, Evilyn used her superpowers of manipulation to make the situation work for her. I wonder how she’ll “lose” her baby? Unless, of course, she’s already found a willing donor to knock her up on the side—someone who looks like Ford, dark hair, pale-sky eyes. Or, maybe now that Ford is in a generous mood, he’ll do the deed himself. I’m not sure that he would deny her anything if she asked. Knowing Evil, she’ll convince him it’s good for the baby.
The door closes, and the room hushes to a whisper.
“I suppose everyone’s heard.” Ford digs his palm into his eye as if he were fatigued beyond limit. “Jeneration Jinx has been hijacked and is now up and running.”
Holy shit. The room fills with a wild rumble.
“On the bright side”—he gives a false smile that disintegrates quick as it came—“it’s doing better than expected.”
“Who did this?” Someone shouts from the back.
“A company called Satellite Net.” His dimples flex in and out with disapproval. “Never heard of the fuckers.”
Everyone shakes their heads because, apparently, no one else has ever heard of the fuckers either. I wonder if I have. If the fuckers in question go by the name Lincoln or Hans.
“They swiped our technology—used the exact pattern of distribution, same key codes, same damn details right down to a T.” His voice ricochets off the walls like gunfire. “That means we have a mole.” He gives a quick accusing sweep of everyone at the table. “And I’m one hundred percent sure that person is in this room.”
My insides go rigid. My body breaks out in a cold sweat.
A rumble breaks out among the crowd as everyone cranes their necks in twelve different directions. It’s a real life last super moment. Judas is among us, dipping his bread in the wine, purporting his or her allegiance to Ford while selling him out on the side for thirty shitty pieces of silver. But then if it were me—if I myself were Judas, I sold him out without so much as a song. My father’s affection isn’t worth the hurt I may have put in Ford’s heart.
Jeneration Jinx is the exact program I downloaded onto that thumb drive. I pat my hips as if it might still be on me—never mind the fact these are different pants, this is a different day all together.
“Whoever this is”—Ford gives a hard, dead st
are, his nostrils flare with rage—“I will find you. I will prosecute you to the fullest extent of the law. I will destroy you. I will annihilate your ability to ever make a living again. You will wish you never heard of Jinx. I will make sure you cringe each and every time you see a damn fucking cat.” Ford goes on and on about the coup, and the room swirls.
My lungs seize up. It’s impossible to catch my next breath, leaving me gasping for air. I scoot back and leave without drawing any attention to myself. I ditch over to the restroom, lock myself in a stall because I’m about to text the shit out of my brother.
Are you Satellite Net?
He texts right back. No. Word on the street is that your ex-boyfriend is having one shit day. I’m laughing my ass off by the way.
Did you do this? I’m shaking. I’m so angry right now I want to reach through the phone and throttle my brother. I’m not sure who I’m more pissed at—me for being so stupid or Lincoln.
Nope. You can sleep with a clear conscience. Somebody fucked him good, but it wasn’t me. He hurts you again, it will be.
I stare at my phone a good long while before deleting the entire conversation. I take another few minutes to douse my face with water and slip my feet out of my heels. The cool tile burns through my soles until I feel almost human again.
By the time I make my way back out, the hallway is teeming with downtrodden faces, the air is thick with anger and murderous thoughts for whoever managed to swipe their hard work and claim it as their own. Suddenly, I’m feeling like America’s most wanted. I think it’s clear Lincoln did this. He’s trying to usurp me at every turn, and soon this whole company will belong to him. The core is on lockdown, and, most likely, both he and Kinsley are petrified of me penetrating our father’s sacred heart. I bet they’re fearing for their trust funds. Sure we seem to get along great, but the thought of me taking an ax to their inheritance probably has them sinking to new lows, like stealing the very thing I set out to steal—my boyfriend’s company. I give a wry smile at the thought of Ford being my anything. He may never be mine, but it doesn’t mean I don’t have feelings for him. Hell, he’s the first person outside of a relation I’ve actually felt the L word for—that four-letter word I’ve wielded like an expletive for so long. And here Ford was responsible for the gentle thaw of my heart just as Evelyn snatched him away again. He’s still mine. I think both Evelyn and I know that.
Screw Kinsley and Lincoln if they think they can take Jinx. I think it’s time to do some usurping myself. I pluck out my phone again and scroll the text messages until I find my father. I haven’t seen him since June, it was my stepmother’s birthday, and I sat at the other end of the elongated table. I may as well have been in China. My father and I had a brief exchange regarding my upcoming internship, and that was the sum total of our conversation.
I need to see you. Can you fit me in? I send the text and wait, but nothing comes from it.
Evelyn cackles out a laugh, and I glance up to find Ford dutifully by her side. A group of people offer their congratulations. Laughter replaces the somber mood as they pat the happy couple on the back—talk of nightshift feedings float to the ceiling, the mention of diapers and lactation consultants are volleyed around. It’s so jovial and light, it’s like a party has broken out after the funeral that just took place in the boardroom. A woman with glasses no bigger than a Band-Aid touches Evelyn’s flat stomach.
God, she’s pulling so many people into the lie, I’m afraid to witness anymore of this farce.
I should leave Jinx altogether—leave Rigby—change my name if I’m smart. I can’t help feeling like I’m staring a ticking time bomb in the face.
Ford catches my eye. We enter into a standoff before he nods his head toward the stairwell and starts walking in that direction, alone. I give it a minute before I head after him.
The door closes behind me with a hiss, and his cologne wraps itself around me before he does. He pulls me in so tight I’m forced to exhale the breath I’ve been holding since I stepped out of that meeting.
“I love you,” he whispers in my ear, and a fire spirals through me.
“I love it when you hold me like this.” I pull back and bite my lip hard to keep the smile, the tears at bay. I do love it when his arms are wrapped around me tight as a coil. Claire used to squeeze the shit out me when we held each other. I feel Claire, and I feel Ford all at once, and, oddly, it feels as if I’m going to burst into a million particles of light.
“So”—I pull back and melt my gaze over his—“hey, Superman.” I gently glide his hands off me. “Why do I suddenly feel like a dirty little secret? Is that what I’ve become? Or is that what I’ve been all along?”
“Stevie.” Ford tries to wrap his arms around me once again, and I press my hand to his chest. “I swear you’re anything but. I want to protect your internship.”
“Does Evelyn know you’re still seeing me?” My voice echoes up the stairwell like a traitor. I lean back and fall into those baby blue puddles of his.
“She asked about us.” He smooths his thumb over my cheek before pressing a kiss over my lips like a slow burn.
“What did you tell her?” There’s an urgency in my voice that frightens me. I know for a fact his answer can change everything about us in an instant or at least until I see my father.
A door opens from below and the sound of heels clicking echoes around us, followed by another door opening then silence.
Ford bears into me with his lips sealed tight.
“I guess I have my answer.” I turn to leave and he pulls me in close, his mouth just a breath from mine.
“I told her you haven’t been to my house since I found out.”
His words sting as they stream from his lips.
It’s true I haven’t, but only because Aspen insisted I stay close to family until I felt one hundred percent. She’s been dropping by Kinsley’s every night to see me. Ford came the first night, but I was quickly relegated to text messages although, in his defense, Lincoln threatened to fry his balls up and shove them down his throat if he showed his face again. Not to mention the fact Ford did ask me to go back to his place. But I was too afraid my mouth would open and breech the dam, and all of my secrets, my deceptions, would come flooding and take out the innocent.
A thought comes to me.
“Are you trying to make her believe that we’re over? God, are we over?” A viral panic thumps through me. A part of me wants to tell him everything and then push him down the stairs for ever considering Evelyn over me—baby or not.
“No, I swear to you, we are not over.” His brows dip. He looks vexingly gorgeous, and I wish he would stop. “I’m in this. You’re the only one that matters in my life, but with the baby—”
“You want to be careful.”
“Yes.” He closes his eyes, pressing his forehead to mine. “Every time I move in the wrong direction, she complains of a pain, a cramp. It’s only been one week, and I can’t imagine much more of this. But, if my child is involved, I want to make sure she’s safe.”
For a second, I think he’s talking about the baby, and then I realize it’s Evelyn.
“I get it.” I completely get how Evelyn plans on charming her way back into his life—several months of one-on-one time, of bonding with their imaginary new child and let’s not forget the horrible miscarriage I see coming a mile away. She’ll have his emotions stretched so thin he won’t know what hit him. Plus, he’ll be grieving. They’ll grieve together. And, here, I was the one who had his baby, lost it, and had to grieve all on my own. Evelyn and all of her wickedness burns like a fire through me, and, I think for the first time ever, I’m capable of strangling another human being. “Why don’t you get back in there?” I place my hand on the doorknob and open it enough for his arms to glide off me voluntarily. “You’re a good person to care for your baby’s wellbeing.” And an idiot for believing that wicked witch to begin with. “I really do love how involved you already are. I’m sure you’re planning to go to a
ll her doctor appointments, too. I mean if it were me having your baby, I’d love for you to come—you know, hear the baby’s heartbeat—hold my hand during all those intrusive examinations.”
“Yes. I want to do those things—but, God, how I wish it was you.” A cloud of grief envelops him as he steps toward me once again. He goes for the kiss, but I inch my head back.
My phone beeps in my purse, and I give it a quick glance. It’s my father.
Come to the office. I’ll be here all afternoon.
God. My heart thumps in and out of rhythm as if this simple text might kill me. But it’s anything but a simple text. My father responded within a reasonable amount of time. The lines of communication are open—stretching out like a highway straight to his heart—when all I really expected was a vast desert of silence. He’s never so much as returned a call, let alone made the effort to return a text.
“Stevie”—Ford gently lifts my chin until I’m looking at his broken features—“I don’t want you to feel like you need to sneak around with me. And I, for sure, don’t want Evelyn to feel threatened.”
I give a slow nod. How easily he caved to her demands. A fire enlivens in me. Why the hell don’t I just tell him the truth? Somewhere buried deep inside me is a twisted bitch who insists on dragging out the pain life likes to offer. When pain is all you know, it’s easy to turn to, to linger in its shelter like an old vitriolic friend.
“I’m not letting you go, Stevie. There’s nothing Evelyn can do to keep us apart. My future is with you”—he steps in, and an inferno erupts between us—“with the children we’re going to have one day. We belong together. You belong to me, and I belong to you. We just need to get through these next several months.” He lends a meandering kiss to my cheek that stretches to my ear. “I can’t do this without you. Please, Stevie.”
I pull back and flatten my hands over his chest, creating a barrier between us.
“I won’t be your secret, Ford. Congratulations on the baby. I’ll be here for you when this is all through.” I clasp his cheeks and bear into his watery eyes. “Remember these words. I will be here for you when this entire nightmare is over.” I press a tight kiss to his lips, my heart already hardened to stone for what I’m about to do next.
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