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We erupt into giggles in the backseat, making the driver look back at us, his cheeks pink at what he’s heard. It feels good to laugh after the week I’ve had. A week of pining away, waiting for a phone call that didn’t come. I had been completely distracted at work too. I made more typos than usual and missed a deadline. I could practically see my promotion flying away on the wings of a black and white paper airplane.
As the cab pulls up outside the bar, Sadie grabs my hand and gives me a look. “Forget him, okay? We’re going to have fun tonight!”
I nod and squeeze her hand. “He’s forgotten,” I lie.
I wonder if I’ll ever forget that night, the way it blew my mind. At least I can spend tonight trying to, with a few drinks and dancing with my friends. I have no plans of talking to any man who approaches. I’ve sworn them off for the time being. And I’ve sworn off going home with strangers forever.
Chapter 7
Erica
Six Weeks Later
The baby blue walls offer little comfort as I sit in a stiff chair in the waiting room waiting for my name to be called. I have been waiting here for twenty minutes, since I filled out the paperwork the front desk had handed me, and that had taken me a while to get through. I had trouble answering the questions that seemed to be screaming at me in black ink on the white pages. I guessed on most of them, but one thing is for sure, my period is very late.
I tap my foot anxiously against the tile floor, watching as every other woman around me is called back by a nurse practitioner in pink scrubs. I wonder if any of them are in the same position as me. That position being absolutely terrified that they might be pregnant with a stranger’s baby. It’s so ridiculous, I couldn’teven bring myself to take a pregnancy test. I had bought several, but the boxes remained unopened on my bathroom counter. They had been taunting me for days, until I finally called and made a doctor’s appointment. I want to be absolutely sure about this.
It has been nearly two months since I left Marco’s empty apartment feeling foolish for winding up there in the first place. Nearly two months of reminding myself not to think of the handsome stranger and the fateful night we met at the rooftop party. If only I had been watching where I was going, I would never have run into him and things would never have gone where they did. I would be blissfully unaware that he even existed, instead of waking up to vivid dreams of being tangled in his sheets.
I shake the dream I had last night from my head and check my phone for the time. It’s nearing 10 a.m. I should have been seen by now. I thought I would be in to work by 11, but now it’s looking like I need to call and push my already late arrival even further. I know it’s not that serious, and that I probably am not even missed. There have been several times in the past where I worked remotely, but lately, I’ve really been trying to show my face. I want George to notice me, and maybe remind him of the promotion he seemed so close to giving the night of the party.
But lately, he seems absentminded. I wonder if it’s because rumors of The Shark being at the party were true and he’s been dealing with that. Come to think of it, everyone at the office has been a little on edge lately, like they know something is coming. If it’s true, then my attempts at a promotion will be futile. Keeping my job will be a challenge itself. The thought makes mystomach sink, especially if the calculations of my missed period are verified today. I’ll be a jobless, single mother. I swallow hard at the thought.
As another woman is called back, I sigh and get as comfortable as I can in my chair, glancing up at the TV to kill the time. I watch a commercial for diapers. How fitting. But then the TV flashes back to the news and I sit up a little straighter. I see our rival newspaper’s name across the screen in bold lettering. It’s been sold to none other than The Shark himself. Rumors had been swirling about a potential sale, but I never thought the owner would let the paper go. I suppose the money was too good to pass up. Another one bites the dust.
I strain my ears to listen to the newscaster as she reads the story.
“The New York Voicehas finalized the sale of its deal with Marco Vallejo, a well-known businessman on the East Coast and overseas. Some call him Mr. Monopoly as he has claimed his stake of hundreds businesses through the years, with his newest interest in the press.”
Her voice begins to drown out as the image on the TV screen screams at me. It’s an image of Marco Vallejo and he’s not the sixty-something-year-old snake I was looking for at the party. In fact, he’s far from it. He’s younger with tan skin and dark hair and eyes I would recognize anywhere. I stand up and step closer to the TV that hangs above the wall. I peer at it, blinking a few times to make sure I’m seeing things right.
I suck in a breath. It can’t be. I feel like I might be losing my mind right here in the doctor’s office. Marco Vallejo, The Shark, is the father of the possible baby that is growing inside me. I clutch my stomach as I take a slow step backward, my eyes still on the screen. It’s really him. The mystery man I have wondered about is smiling back at me through the glare of a television screen.
I feel like I’m going to be sick, and it has nothing to do with possible pregnancy symptoms.
“Excuse me,” I say to the front desk woman. “Where is your restroom?”
She looks at me knowingly, as if the color drained from my face and the tight clench of my mouth is something she sees daily.
“Right down the hall, hun,” she says, pointing to her left.
I nod gratefully and break into a jog in the direction she pointed. I lock myself in the bathroom and make it to the toilet just in time to hurl my guts up. As I clutch the toilet tightly, I feel a clammy sweat begin to form on my brow. I wipe away at it before plopping down on the cool tile floor next to the toilet. I put my head on my knees and take deep breaths, trying to keep my nausea at bay, along with my horrified thoughts.
For the past two months I have thought about Marco, not realizing he is who he is. I’ve replayed our night together over and over, even though I denied it to my friends, lying and saying I had moved on. The hold he has had on me is embarrassing,especially when he never called. Now I know why. He’s too busy being a billionaire, snatching up companies, and probably sleeping using his charm and money to woo other women. The thought makes bile rise in my throat. I lean over the toilet and vomit again.
When I feel like I have nothing left in me, I pick myself up from the floor and clean up in the sink. As I look at my reflection, I think back about what I had shared with him that night. What little color left in my face drains away. I had told him about working for George and the ins and outs ofThe NY Daily News. He had seemed so interested in what I had to say, as if he was hanging on every word. He asked so many questions, but hardly said much about himself. Now I know why.
While he hadn’t blatantly lied about anything, he had omitted some important truths about who he was. Yes, he was trying to get his foot into newspapers, but not in the way I thought. He was trying to buy them all out, and now I wonder if he had seduced me to find a way to buy ours out. I shudder at the thought. I suddenly feel more used than I had before I found out who he was.
I hear a knock at the door.
“Yes?” I call out.
“Ms. Gunner, we’re ready for you. Are you doing okay in there?”
I take a deep breath. I’m hardly doing okay.
“I’ll be right out,” I call out.