5 Bikers for Valentines

My chest tightened up at the mention of my ex. Yes, we'd had names picked out. Several of them. Girls and boys. We'd wanted several kids – sons and daughters. She'd wanted four or more, while I was content with two or three. Nothing had been set in stone, of course. We were just going to see where life took us.

I'd had no idea, back then, that life would bring me here. Contemplating the idea of being a single father, of having a child with a woman I didn't even know or care about – it felt wrong. It felt wrong on so many levels.

“I've made an appointment with a surrogacy agency,” she said. “We'll speak to them on Monday.”

I cringed. “Mom, I'm really not comfortable with you doing all this,” I said. “It's my child, so I should be making the arrangements.”

Her face fell, and I immediately felt terrible. She probably liked being useful; having a purpose and a mission again. She looked like I'd just taken it all away from her and I felt like a total ass.

“It's just – awkward. Think about it,” I say. “My mother comes with me to a clinic where we discuss – ”

There was no way I was going to talk about sperm with my mom – in a public place, no less – so I left it hanging. Talk about an inappropriate discussion to be having at the table.

“I understand, Malcolm,” she said. “The appointment is at nine o'clock, Monday morning. I'll text you the address and you can go alone if you'll feel more comfortable.”

“Thank you.”

I actually wasn't feeling entirely thankful in the moment. I still wasn't sure if I wanted to go about it that way, but I was running out of time – and without Danielle in the picture, I didn't have many options either. In fact, unless we found a way to convince dad to change his mind about all of this, I was pretty much out of options, period.

My phone buzzed. “Danielle,” I muttered, deleting the message. “She still wants to talk. I have a feeling Adam told her about the deal, and she says she can help me. Yeah, sure you can, Danielle. Not that I'd even know the child was mine for sure if we did go that route.”

“Did she ever explain why she came to the house with Adam?”

I nodded. “She said it was to see me, but the way he was hanging all over her, I seriously doubt that,” I said. “She wanted to get even with me. Make me jealous.”

“Manipulative little whore,” my mom muttered.

I stifled a laugh. My mom wasn't one to call people names, but her loyalty to me knew no bounds, and I loved her for it.

I looked at the time and downed the rest of my wine. “Sorry, Ma, I have to get going,” I said. “Hanging with Greg tonight.”

“Another night on the town?” She cocked an eyebrow. “You know that when you have a baby, you can't do this.”

“Exactly why I need to have fun now. Before I'm strapped down with responsibility,” I said, giving her a wink. “Don't worry. I won't be out too late.”

“And you'll make that appointment on Monday?”

“Yes, Mom,” I sighed.

It was worth at least talking to them and explore any options I might have. Especially if it made my mom happy. After all, it sounded like I was going to need to have a baby sometime within the next nine months or so if I wanted to make sure my father's company didn't end up in Adam's hands.

That meant that, unless I met the girl of my dreams at some point within the next few days or so, and things moved very fast, it was likely not going to happen.

Hell, I'd have had better odds at winning the lottery. Damn my dad for doing this to me. Damn him.

~ooo000ooo~

The Obelisk was the club for playboys with disposable income, which was exactly why Greg always chose it when we went out. Situated in Beverly Hills, it was nearly impossible to get inside without knowing someone or being known yourself.

Celebrities often posted selfies from inside the club, in front of the waterfalls that are several stories high, surrounded by glass so the water and light created rainbows and other prismatic effects. It was a work of art in and of itself, and perfect for Instagramable moments.

Such was life in the digital age.

Of course, the beautiful cocktail waitresses didn't hurt the club's reputation either. Especially since the outfits had gotten skimpier recently – another reason Greg always wanted to go there.

“Think that hottie will be here tonight?” he asked me as we pushed past some models puckering for their iPhone cameras in front of the waterfall.

“Which one?” I laughed, looking around us. “We're surrounded by hotties.”