I fall onto the sofa, squeezing my eyes shut. Taking a deep breath and blowing it out, all I can do is laugh a sad, resigned chuckle.
“This is an easy fix,” he hisses. “I’ll take a paternity test when the kid gets here and prove it isn’t mine.”
“But until then? What if it is?”
“Alison—it’s not. She asked for a sizable check this afternoon. She just wants money.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m not paying her for shit because it’s garbage. What can she do? Go to the tabloids? And then what? Find out the baby’s not mine when it’s born and she’ll look like the bitch she really is?”
I try to clear my head and keep my wits about me when I really want to run into my room and cry. My life a few hours ago was exactly where I wanted it to be. How quickly things can change.
He blows out a breath. “Look, she doesn’t think I’ll call her bluff. She thinks I’ll pay her off and she can ride into the sunset or I will profess my undying love to her. I don’t know. But neither option is happening.
“Oh, Barrett,” I say, feeling sick. “I’m so sorry.”
“Me fucking too.” He clears his throat, his voice softening but not losing the sharpness. “I have to go get ready for this thing. Can I call you tonight? It’ll be late. This thing goes on for fucking ever.”
“Yeah. Sure. I’m working at Luxor ‘til nine or so, then I’ll be home.”
He doesn’t try to convince me not to go to work, he doesn’t tell me to be careful or to think of him like he usually does. Instead, he takes a deep breath and says, “I’ll call you later, babe.”
“Okay. Try to have a good night, Barrett.”
And the line goes dead.
Alison
The late afternoon sun has lost its warmth as I pull into the parking lot of the location of tonight’s catering job. Luxor’s vans are parked by the curb and I spot Lola’s car in the back of the lot by Isaac’s. I pull in beside her, get out, and walk briskly to the back door.
This afternoon has thrown me for a loop. I hate this nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach that everything is falling apart, that things aren’t capable of ending well. It just drums up so many bad feelings that I find myself wanting to vomit every few minutes.
“Mrs. Baker, did you see photos on Malarky’s website? Did you see your husband snorting cocaine off a prostitute’s tits?”
“Mommy, why did Daddy leave us? Doesn’t he love me anymore?”
“You’re a worthless piece of shit, Alison. You have nothing to offer a man like me.”
My stomach rolls right along with the memories.
I walk around the side of the van and stop dead in my tracks. A woman is standing on the curb, a Cheshire cat-like smile carved on her glossy lips. She’s beautiful—tanned skin and long, blonde hair. When she sees me, she turns to face me.
“You’re Alison, aren’t you?” she asks.
The disdain is undeniable in her tone, poison leaking off of each syllable. I throw my shoulders back and take a deep breath. “Yes, I am.”
Keeping my head up, I quicken my pace, but she steps in front of me.
“I’m Lacy McKay,” she voices, loud enough so that I can’t pretend I didn’t hear her. “I thought we should meet.”
The air around us changes, sweeps from a normal fall evening to one of a horror movie. She can tell I know who she is because she smirks. That one little movement in the right corner of her lips changes everything.
“I don’t see why.” I’m stopped, unable to go forward without physically running into her, and I’m not giving her that. I narrow my eyes right along with hers.
She laughs a high-pitched squeak that makes me cringe. “Oh, honey, don’t act like you don’t know who I am.” Her palm presses flat against her stomach, her eyes narrowing. “And that I’m having Barrett’s baby. You did know that, right?”
Even though I knew this was coming and I know it’s false, or that Barrett says it’s false, still, it knocks the wind out of me. The thought of the possibility of Barrett’s child in her stomach makes my entire body shiver, my entire self ready to come out of my skin.