“Fine, fine. I’m going. Call your nana and see if she needs help moving,” she says standing on her tiptoes and kissing me on the cheek. She’s 5’3 and full of fire. I tower over at her at 6’5. Hell, we all do. Phil is 6’3 and Pop is 6’1. Even Paisleigh is 5’6. She doesn’t seem to mind. She’s feisty and thinks that more than makes up for her lack of height.
“I will,” I promise, closing my office door behind her.
Running the Macfadyen Investment Group hasn’t been easy. The first five years, I didn’t turn much of a profit, but these last five years have catapulted me into a tax bracket I never thought I’d see. My personal net worth is just at the ten million mark and growing every day, but the business is worth ten times that amount. Life is good and while I do want a woman to share it all with, I don’t want it to be all about that.
Back at my desk, I work for another hour and then head out to my lunch meeting. As soon as I get my 2014 Aston Martin Vanquish Volante parked, my assistant calls me to tell me that my client can’t make it. I usually drive my much more practical Cadillac Escalade, but I like to drive my dream car every once in a while. Since I’m starving, I head inside. Might as well make the most of this trip. The Hacienda Bar and Grill is one of the best lunch places in Manhattan, might as well enjoy it.Chapter TwoTori BaldwinThe bus ride from Almont, Oregon to New York City was the longest three days, six hours, and twenty minutes of my life. But we are here now. My sister, Kalera, and our best friends, Narina, Kaylee, and Gwen moved here for college and to find out how to be surrogates. It’s not something I really want to do, but my twin was super excited about the surrogacy thing and I’m not going to be the one to rain on her parade. The first day, after dropping my shit at the dorm room, I went out and found a job. You can’t live in the most expensive city in the country without a job.
What’s a girl with absolutely no experience to do? Lie, of course.
I lied my ass off which is how I find myself barely two days later as the lead hostess at the hottest lunch spot in Manhattan. I work from seven in the morning until five in the evening. Not bad, plus its summer so I don’t have to worry about class just yet, which is another thing I don’t want to do. I barely made it through my senior year. I don’t know how I got accepted to NYU, but I think my audition clinched the deal. I am majoring in Drama. I want more than anything to be an actress as well as a wife and mother. I want it all. I have never told anyone about my dreams of fame. I think everyone back home, even my sister, would tell me that I need more realistic dreams. Now, I suddenly find myself in NYC, and it’s like my dreams are starting to come true. I already have an audition at seven tonight at the Luna Luttrell Theatre. It’s for a modern retelling of Romeo and Juliet. I pray that I do well, and I am as good as I hope I am. I would die of embarrassment if I am only good by Almont standards which are non-existent, but I can’t think like that.
I am Tori motherfucking Baldwin, and I am going to be Juliet. I keep repeating that to myself over and over again. My phone vibrates in my pocket, startling me from my thoughts. It’s Kalera. I shoot her a quick text, telling her that I’ll call her on my break, and she sends back heart emojis. I feel like such an asshole bitch for not sharing this part of me with her, but I can’t hear anything negative about it. It would crush me. I am actually surprised my phone still works. I thought for sure my dad would cut it off, but he hasn’t. For the last six days, I’ve texted both of my parents, the rock steady John and Annie Baldwin, to tell them that I love them and that I hope they forgive us for leaving. They definitely didn’t want us to go and haven’t spoken to us since. However, my mom put two hundred dollars into my bank account and did the same for Kalera. I know it was her because my dad is pretty tight-fisted. I wish they’d understand that getting married and working at the wharf was never going to be my future even if I’d stayed. I probably would have gotten married because I want a baby, but wharf life isn’t for me. My appointment for the Hope Fertility Clinic isn’t until tomorrow, so I have time to think. I have had nothing but time, but I am still on the fence. Do I want to sell my body without ever being able to see the baby I help make? I googled it. I learned everything I could about surrogacy and pregnancy. They are going to have to manually pop my cherry to impregnate me. In a small town, it’s hard to keep it intact, but I did it. My husband, whoever he is should be the one to get it. That was a promise I made myself and him when I was thirteen. Sunday school had a weird-ass lesson on abstinence, but that’s not what I took away from it. I am not against sex, like at all, but I am against it with the wrong man. It’s the one thing I can give my husband that doesn’t cost a thing. That peace of mind that I’ve never been with another man. Never known another man’s touch, hell not even a kiss. It’s all his. That’s another thing I’ve never shared with anyone. Not out of potential embarrassment, but because it’s super private. However, right now, I am leaning towards the fact that it should at least be something other than a cold medical instrument… I shudder. Eww. I don’t even want to think about that right now.