Fate Interrupted 2

by Kaitlyn Cross

  The breeze swept away a winded breath from Shaun’s lips. “So, speaking of the unchosen one, you been seeing anyone lately? Raise any of the old flings from the dead?” He tipped the can back and drained it, watching Dean out the corner of one eye.

  Dean tensed, the very question making him angry. His friends should have never been able to ask him a question like that ever again. There was one woman, and one woman only, for him out there and pretending anything different was a cheap shot to the gut. “Nope.”

  “I’ll be honest, I do miss your stories.” Shaun leaned back and exhaled a reflective breath. “Remember that one hot chick who would only have water sex?”

  Dean didn’t respond.

  “What was her name again? Tina? Or Krista? Or Brian?”

  “Andie.”

  Shaun snapped his fingers. “Andie! That’s it.” The cactus drew his eyes again. “Chick was like a horny mermaid. The shower, the Jacuzzi, the lake, never heard of anything like it.” He looked back up. “Remember when Jon intentionally spilt a glass of water on her at my Fourth of July barbeque last year? He thought for sure she’d rip her clothes off and start masturbating right there on the deck, but, other than her getting super pissed, nothing really happened.”

  “At least she was wearing a white shirt.”

  “This is true.”

  “How’s Evy?” Dean asked before he could derail him again.

  Shaun glanced at his watch and pressed his lips together. “I’m impressed. You actually made it seventeen minutes without bringing her up.”

  Dean stared at him without uttering a single word.

  “Sorry,” Shaun said, setting the can down and stretching his back out against the chair. After a quick pop, he took a deep breath and expelled it back into the sunlit day. “Evy’s getting better, man. She really is.”

  Shaun’s words were like a spike driven through Dean’s heart. “Really?”

  Shaun nodded without spilling anymore details.

  “How much better? Like better enough to start seeing someone?”

  “No," Shaun replied, scrunching his face up. “Nothing like that.”

  A candle of hope lit up inside of Dean, hidden amongst stacks of baggage and grief.

  “How’s Megan?” Shaun asked, blowing the candle out.

  “She’s supposed to be getting that paternity test soon, but I get the feeling she’ll put it off as long as possible.”

  “Oh yeah,” Shaun agreed, cracking another beer. “She’s going to drag this out until that baby is driving.”

  Dean took another drink, the cool liquid combining with Shaun’s words to chill his insides to the bone.

  “I still think it’s going to end up being a little black baby.”

  Dean swallowed and started choking.

  “You okay, buddy?”

  Dean coughed into his fist and nodded, taking a moment to catch his breath. They sat there watching the world go by from his patio, neither knowing what to say next. Dean cleared his throat. “You know I was thinking…”

  “Not a good idea, bro.”

  “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

  “You’re thinking about calling Evy.”

  Dean stared at him with his jaw flapping in the breeze like a wet sheet.

  Shaun leaned forward. “You can’t call her unless you are positive that baby isn’t yours. Otherwise, it’ll never work…not after all of the shit that went down. Plus, you can’t take the chance of pissing off those we don’t speak of and her dickhead father.”

  Dean sat back and exhaled a forlorn breath. Shaun was also right. Someone would get hurt. A young couple exited the building across the way, holding hands and walking to the parking lot with a bounce in their step. Dean watched them, his heart breaking all over again.

  “Everything you see reminds you of Evy,” Shaun said with a wistful sigh.

  Dean turned to him. “I’m haunted.”

  “Yes you are, my friend. Yes you are.”

  Anger suddenly rose above Dean’s sorrow, taking the reins. “I still can’t believe all that shit happened, all because of one stupid night.”

  “I think you had more than one stupid night, but this is the one that came back to bite you in the ass.”

  “Why couldn’t this have happened when I was dating that Becky girl from the bar? It would’ve been the perfect excuse to get out of it.”

  Shaun laughed. “Hey, at least you still have your sense of humor.”

  Dean compressed his lips. “I almost bought a cat.”

  Shaun stopped laughing on a dime. “I stand corrected. This is worse than I thought.” He gazed out across the green grass stretching to the parking lot in the distance, his expression growing somber with each passing second. “For the record, I’m sorry it happened, man. I know how much you liked her.”

  Dean’s eyes turned glassy, making him thankful to be hiding behind his shades. He almost said something but feared his voice would crack.

  “Baby-mama-drama,” Shaun snickered, shaking his head. “The worst kind.”

  Dean nodded as another wave of silence washed over them. A flag waved from atop a pole planted in a grassy common area with a nearby pool and barbeque grills. A man with a potbelly and a receding hairline stepped out onto his patio in the building across from them. He waved and Dean waved back before the man started watering his potted plants.

  Shaun let a laugh slip.

  “What?”

  He shook his head. “Nothing.”

  “No, come on. What’s so funny?”

  “I was just thinking back to that night when Jon dressed up as a clown.”

  Dean sat up straighter. “What about it?”

  “I don’t mean to rehash things but that was some fucked up shit I’ll never forget. That bald guy’s reaction when Jon stepped in front of his car was so classic.”

  “What did he say again?” Dean asked, even though he already knew the answer.

  “He goes, quit clowning around or I’m going to shoot your big red nose off.”

  They shared a good laugh.

  Shaun drew in a deep breath, the breeze tickling his thinning bangs. “I’m so glad you kicked that guy’s ass.”

  A tight-lipped smile spread Dean’s lips.

  “Even though the guy reminded me of my grandpa, who I loved dearly.” Shaun uncrossed his legs and shifted in the chair. “Every cloud has its silver lining.”

  Dean played with the pop top on his can, flicking his finger against it with a light ping. “I still can’t believe Clay got away with it. Who does that kind of stuff, man?”

  “Hey, at least you’re not living in that house anymore and nothing bad has happened since.”

  “I’m sure he thinks I’ll eventually go back, now that he scared off Evy.”

  “Will you?”

  “Hell no.”

  “What if the baby is…”

  “No!”

  Shaun took another drink, carefully choosing his next words. “I don’t blame you there.”

  “You’d think he would’ve slipped up and left a digital footprint somewhere along the line - an email, or a text message, or something. I can’t be the only person he’s ever strong-armed before.” Dean leaned his head against the chair and the lady upstairs quickly looked away. “I’ve gone over it a thousand times.”

  “I still think someone would listen to your story and look into it. Who knows what they might find?”

  “As long as he’s done messing with Sugars, I think I’ll cut my losses and get out while I’m behind.” He turned to Shaun and tipped his head down, peering at him over the top of his shades. “So did Megan have her baby shower at Sugars.”

  “Oh no, Brooke put her foot down on that one. Told that April girl to take a hike.”

  Dean leaned his head back again and stared at the underside of the balcony above them, a reflective breath ruffling his lips. “Megan texted me this morning wondering if I would stop by and help her put a crib together.”
<
br />   “I thought the place was furnished.”

  “It is, but Clay made sure to leave some projects we could do as a family,” he said, making quotation marks with his fingers.

  “Wow,” Shaun replied slowly, shuddering with a shiver sliding through him. “It’s like Rosemary’s Baby all over again.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Are you going to go?’

  “Uh, no.”

  “Have you seen her at all?”

  “Megan? She pulled a pop-in three nights ago.”

  Shaun inhaled a deep breath through clenched teeth. “Oh man, I hate the pop-in. Gives me the creeps.”

  “Said she wanted to make sure I hadn’t hung myself in the bathroom.”

  “Bet you wish you had. So I take it she’s keeping the house then.”

  Dean shrugged passively. “For now at least.”

  “If she sells it, just remember you are entitled to half under Wisconsin state law,” Shaun said, nodding confidently.

  “I don’t want any part of it.”

  “Hey, that was a wedding gift, so that shit’s legit. You deserve at least that much after everything they put you through.”

  Dean blinked, Shaun’s words echoing in his head. He turned to him and sharpened his gaze, the wheels in his mind finally finding a patch of dry road.

  Shaun stared back. “What?” he said, rubbing his nose. “Do I have a booger or something?”

  “The house,” Dean muttered, barely above a whisper.

  “Yeah, the house! Another silver lining.” Shaun ran a hand through his sandy colored locks, a short laugh slipping from his lips. “Don’t worry, man, I got you covered. I mean, you’re the lawyer but I read a lot. Mainly zombie books, but I know a thing or two.”

  Dean’s eyes widened. He set the beer and his sunglasses on the table and rubbed his face with both hands like he had just awakened from a long winter’s nap.

  Shaun snorted. “Though knowing your luck, you’ll lose half of it to the tax man.”

  Dean pulled his face from his hands, heart racing in his chest. The patio vibrated around the edges of his peripheral vision. Dean sprang to his feet and stripped his shirt off and untied his gym shorts.

  “Whoa! What’re you doing?” Shaun cried, pressing into his chair.

  Dean unlocked the patio door. “Jumping in the shower.”

  “Oh,” he said, breathing a sigh of relief. “I thought you were going to ask me to suck your dick there for a second.”

  Dean slid the heavy glass door back. “I’ve got a plan.”

  “What is it?”

  “No time.”

  “Anything I can do to help?

  “Yeah, Google Mayor Andrews and text me the address to his office.”

  “Gotcha,” Shaun said, grabbing his cell from the table.

  “And his number.”

  He nodded, his thumbs already poking at the screen. “Where are you going?”

  Dean grinned at him. “To set up a crib.”

  Shaun’s face fell. “Say what?”

  ***

  Dean unlocked the red front door to the olive-colored house and stepped inside, his thoughts racing nearly as fast as his pulse. The smell of a cinnamon candle greeted him in the small foyer, where Megan’s tennis shoes sat beneath a wooden bench with coat hooks lining the wall above it. Just when he opened his mouth to yell out hello, he heard moaning from down the hall.

  Dean softly shut the door and crept closer. The moaning grew louder and so did the humming. Light from the master bedroom spilled across the dark wood floor lining the hallway. Dean sucked his stomach in and tippy toed further, wild scenarios flipping through his mind. A floorboard groaned beneath him. He stopped and clenched his jaw like he had just received a paper cut. The humming and moaning continued, blending in his ears. His throat moved thickly as he took another step. At the edge of the doorway, Megan’s loud cries and the monotone drone sped his pulse. The urge to peek around the corner overwhelmed him. A shadow jumped across the hallway wall, moving up and down like a professional bull rider, further feeding his urge.

  He took a deep breath and cautiously nudged a single eye around the corner of the doorframe. His eyelids flipped back, his muscles tensing. Megan was on her knees, crouching on what looked like a circus pony saddle, her closed eyes pointed at the ceiling. The buzzing sound fueled the trembles rippling through her naked body. Dean watched her bounce up and down in the saddle while holding her breasts, the hint of a bump in her belly constricting his lungs. Her eager moans suddenly turned to words.

  “Fuck yeah, baby! Stick me with that big cock!” She reached down between her legs and groaned louder when her fingers found pay dirt. “You like that?”

  Dean slowly rolled out of the doorway and flattened himself against the wall, chest heaving beneath a tight black t-shirt. He mouthed the words: what the fuck, man.

  “If you let me go, I promise won’t tell anyone!”

  His gaze swung back to the doorway. He slapped a hand over his mouth to stop a laugh, and, without further hesitation, reversed his course.

  “My dad’s the mayor! He’ll pay the money! He will!”

  Megan returned to her moans of ecstasy as Dean carefully stepped over the patch of creaky floorboards. Back in the foyer, he started breathing again and quietly opened the front door. He took a moment to compose himself, shaking his head to rid himself of the incredulous image bouncing in his head. After one last calming breath, he rang the doorbell. The moaning stopped, followed by the buzzing sound.

  He waited three more seconds before slamming the door shut. “Hello?” he called out. “Anyone home?” He stood and waited, blood rushing through his veins.

  The sound of feet slapping against the floor grew louder. Megan slid around the corner in her bare feet, pulling a pink robe together. She stared at him through surprised eyes, her face flushed. “Oh my God, you scared me,” she smiled, breathing heavily. “I was just…doing some yoga before hopping in the shower.”

  “I got your message about the crib.”

  She brushed hair from her face, her chest rising and falling. “Oh,” she said, surprised again. “That was nice of you.”

  “I heard yelling. Are you okay?”

  Her face tightened along with the grip on her robe. “Oh, there was a nasty spider in the master bathroom.”

  “I’ll take care of it,” he said, blazing past her.

  “I already flushed it!” she called out, padding down the hallway after him.

  Dean rounded the bedroom and came to a screeching halt, staring down at the saddle-like contraption on the floor - a giant pink dildo sticking from its top. Befuddlement strangled his features, leaving him almost unrecognizable.

  Megan bolted around him and threw a blanket over the saddle.

  “Is that your yoga mat?”

  She let out a defeated breath and tied her robe shut with a taught pull. “If you must know, it’s a Sybian,” she murmured embarrassedly, wiping the sheen from her forehead with her sleeve.

  He looked up, shock blanketing his face. “A what?”

  “Never mind,” she said, ushering him into the nursery across the hall where a big, flat box with a picture of a white crib on its front leaned against the wall. “Here’s the crib,” she said, still chasing her breath. “I’m going to take a quick shower and then I’ll give you a hand.”

  He pointed to the master bedroom, not quite ready to let it go. “Where do you even find something like that?”

  She crossed her arms and cocked her head to one side. “Online. Where do you think?” She narrowed her eyes. “Pregnant women can’t be choosers, Dean.”

  His brow dipped. “I don’t know what that means. Oh crap,” he said, looking back to the box.

  “What?”

  “I don’t suppose there’s a screwdriver and a wrench lying around anywhere, is there? I just remembered I forgot my toolbox.”

  She put a finger to her cherry-colored lips. “I did see a screwdriver somewhere but
I’m not sure about a wrench.”

  A wide smile travelled across his face. “I’ll take a look around.”

  “I’ll be right back,” Megan said, disappearing into the master bedroom across the hall.

  Dean waited for the shower to turn on before leaving the nursery, never wanting to be in that room again. In the kitchen, he rifled through drawers like a mad man, certain there had to be some paperwork somewhere. Utensils rattled and drawers slammed shut. Dean took a break to groan out loud and rub his temples, failure turning into more of a reality with each precious minute that slipped through his fingers. He looked around some more, rummaging through some warranties for the appliances, batteries, and other stuff in a junk drawer. He slammed it shut and leaned over the sink, hanging his head. After a restoring breath, he turned and leaned his rear end against the counter, guessing any documents were probably in Clay’s house or office. He glanced into the living room where no desk or file cabinets were in sight.

  “Shit,” he whispered.

  The shower stopped and Dean’s eyes jerked down the hall, disappointment budding in his gut. He turned back to the fridge and before his grief could build, pushed past it, his mind trying to think like Clay. The courthouse would have property sales records but under what name? Surely, Clay would have used a fake name or dummy corp. Another groan escaped him. This could take days, or even weeks.

  “Did you eat yet?” Megan yelled from the bedroom.

  Dean’s eyes dialed back into focus. He started to respond but stopped short and leaned forward, staring at a Jimmy John’s magnet attaching the realtor’s card to the stainless steel refrigerator. The sound of feet slapping down the hall made him wince. He stepped forward and snatched the card.

  “Hello?” Megan said, coming into the kitchen with a towel wrapped around her head, tightening the same pink robe. “Did you hear me?”

  “Yeah,” he answered, casually slipping the card into the back pocket of his jeans.

  “Yeah you heard me? Or yeah you already ate dinner?”

  “I ate earlier,” he replied, mulling over how he could use the realtor’s information to his advantage.

  “Oh.”

  His eyes swept the room, a fake gesture to set up his next move. “I couldn’t find any tools so I’ll have to come back with mine, but probably not tonight. I’m pretty beat.”