#Jerk (12 page)

The event is held at a rooftop bar consisting of a small and intimate crowd. The view is sensational, the bright lights and city skyline surrounding us. Clive is terrified of heights. Standing beside me with a fierce grip on my arm, his face pales from the sheer terror of being 30 stories high.

“I’m scared I’ll shit my pants, Pres.”

“You won’t shit your pants, and you know why? Because they cost you a whole paycheck and what would Gianni Versace say if he knew you shit in his ridiculously expensive pants?”

“Okay, you have a point. At least if there was some good eye candy here then I could distract myself.” Clive shrivels his face in discontent as a not-so-attractive waiter walks by carrying some shrimp.

“I need to go talk to Mr. Sadler,” I tell him. “Look, here comes Vicky. If there’s anyone who has found the hot guys, it’ll be her.”

“Okay, so here’s the lowdown. A bunch of guys near the bar that belong to that party over there are single. The guy with the black slicked-back hair is gay,” Vicky informs us.

“Vicky, your gaydar has been off so many times!” Clive complains.

“Well, this time I straight-up asked him if he wanted to come home with me. He said he likes playing with snakes, not beavers and pussies.”

I snort out my club soda, laughing at Vicky. Clive disappears into thin air, then reappears at the bar trying to make conversation with the animal lover.

“Is that true?” I ask, still unable to contain my laughter.

“Of course not! As if I would ask him to come home with me. You know my rule—minimum two drinks first, then always at his place.”

“Oh that’s right,
your rules,”
I mock.

“Maybe if you stuck to your seven-week-rule, you wouldn’t be in this predicament,” she points out in jest.

I poke my tongue out at her, juvenile, but called for. Leaving her to complete her man mission, I wander around till I find Mr. Sadler standing near the small stage.

“You look beautiful, Presley. And I guess a congratulations is in order. When are you due?” Mr. Sadler smiles, asking in a fatherly and concerned way.

So during the week, news broke about the pregnancy. It was the biggest scandal to rock the office. With Vicky busy on an assignment, Clive was my informer. Dee wasn’t talking to me, backstabbing and calling me every name under the sun. Trina had joined forces with her, calling me a traitor and a home wrecker. Not sure how, since they weren’t a couple, but that’s her warped imagination for you.

“Four months. I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to tell you myself. It’s been…
overwhelming
, and I was waiting for the right time,” I admit.

“Understandable, my dear. If you need anything, my wife and I are only a phone call away,” he pats my arms, reassuring me.

Something about the way he looks at me mirrors the look my dad gives me. You know when your dad has that ‘my baby girl is all grown up’ speech followed by a heartfelt smile and glassy eyes? It was a nice gesture. He is—and has always been—a great boss to everyone in the office. Always attentive and making sure his employees are happy. I had met Mrs. Sadler at the event last year, and could tell she was of a similar nature.

I give him my thanks and kindly excuse myself to mingle with the authors and other guests. The night itself is a success and just when I think about pulling out the ‘I’m pregnant and need to call it an early night’ card, the Jerk is standing at the doorway dressed in a navy fitted suit and looking exceptionally handsome. His hair is brushed towards the side and his tan looks fresh from the Hawaiian sun. And those glasses…
what the hell is it about those damn reading glasses?

I have to pull my jaw up from the ground because Kitty is line dancing towards him as I continue to stand here mentally slapping myself awake from the pornographic fantasy conjuring up in my head.

Stop fucking swooning.

He is pulled to a group and shakes hands with each person while scanning the room. When his eyes find me, something changes. His face softens yet stills, staring at me deeply as if he is lost in some sort of trance. I beg my eyes to turn away, but the way he is looking at me, something in the way his eyes pierce through me, sends the butterflies into overdrive, much to my discontent. My butterflies can’t fly for him. They need to be saved for the one I should spend the rest of my life with. Not the jerk standing at the opposite side of the room with a rocking tan from his pre-honeymoon in Maui with the evil witch.

Whoa, calm down already!

He appears to be excusing himself, and moments later he is walking towards me. Something in his stride exudes way too much confidence.
God, he did have a good stride, though.

“Can we go somewhere quiet to talk?”

I nod and he leads the way to a secluded part of the terrace. There are a few scattered tables and chairs unattended, so I take a seat and wait for him to begin the conversation. He doesn’t say anything and I’m expecting the worst.
Just don’t cry.

“I’m sorry for the way I reacted. This was a shock,” he says in a cemented tone, not sounding like an apology whatsoever.

I remain tightlipped, waiting for the whole ‘I’m not ready to be a dad’ speech.

“I took some time off to think about this and I just don’t know how this is going to work,” he concedes.

“You think
you
were in shock. I almost had a coronary,” I confess. “It’s probably best we come up with a plan and expectations. That way neither of us is disappointed. So let me set the record straight to avoid any confusion. I’m not looking for a husband, boyfriend, whatever. I’m not here to tie you down.”

He appears taken aback by my forwardness, and perhaps slightly offended by my quick stance on not getting romantically involved. He is engaged—what the hell did he expect to happen?

“I’m getting married. Eloise…she knows,” he trails off, staring into the dark night’s sky.

“And she still wants to get married?” I ask, annoyed at myself that a hint of jealousy accompanied my question.

“Yes. She wants to be involved.”

“But…but how can I allow someone else to be involved in my child’s life? I don’t know her,” I tell him, trying to calm myself down. I hadn’t even thought about that being a possibility, and now the reality of it frightens me to the core.

“You don’t know me either,” he reminds me.

“No I don’t, but you’re the father.”

“And that’s another thing.” He hesitates, avoiding further eye contact until he has no choice but to look me straight in the eyes. “I’d like you to do a paternity test.”

Sitting in front of me with the deepest stare, his facial expressions remain stagnant as he waits for me to rationally respond to his request.
Fat fucking chance.
He basically outright called me a whore,
again.
The anger is bubbling at the surface, and under the table I am gripping my clutch so tight I expect the contents to explode. Emotions are difficult to disguise at the best of times, and this moment is far from the best of times.

I stand up, and with shaky hands, give him the reality check he needs. “You know what, Haden? I don’t get you. One minute I think you’re not such a bad guy and may actually have a heart beating somewhere, then the next, you act like the biggest jerk to walk this earth.”

My pride, dignity, and lack of self-control are the reasons I have to walk away. “I’m leaving. You can have your test. In fact, I’ll be booking it as soon as possible so maybe then you’ll get it through your thick skull that you’re the father.”

Saying goodbye to everyone is difficult in the state of anger I’m in, but I manage to plaster on a fake smile, doing my rounds till I can go home and officially climb into a dark hole.

This isn’t going to work.
This complete stranger walks into my life and every time we are in the same air space as each other, it ends disastrously. I totally blame him. Immature and stubborn like the rest of that generation. Jason, on the other hand…he was mature. Polite, respectful. That means crap all right now because it isn’t his sperm doing laps in my uterus.

I don’t attempt reading, hoping the exhaustion will knock me out. Staring at the dark ceiling, my mind is playing tricks on me and when the light of my cell brightens the room, I welcome the distraction.

I don’t know what I’m thinking when I’m around you. Seeing your stomach tonight was a reality check. I don’t know how to be a dad.

I quickly type the first thing that comes to mind. No filter from this hormonal pregnant woman.

I’ll book the appointment first thing next week. You’ll get your answers. Then I’m off to visit my family for a few days. You don’t have to see me which is probably for the best.

Just when I place the cell down on my nightstand, I hear a knock on my door. Late night knocks aren’t exactly safe, unless of course Vicky’s been out on the town. So, armed with my frying pan and baseball bat for safe measures, I walk towards the door and stare through the peephole.

It’s him.

I unlock the deadbolt and pull off the chain to open the door. He is leaning against the door frame, with no jacket and his hair a wild mess. I can’t detect any alcohol on his breath and his eyes appear crystal clear behind his frames.

“You don’t need to do the test. I shouldn’t have asked that.”

“Too late. You did, and well, maybe it’s for the best.” I cross my arms, noticing his stare fixated on my tank that is semi see-through. He’s a guy, they are like magnets to boobs, and my boobs could qualify to be their own planets right now.
Don’t read anything more into this, Presley Malone.

Quick to bring his tortured gaze back up to my face, he carries on. “I want to come with you to visit your family.”

Shocked by the change of subject, I stare back at him oddly. “Why would you want to do that? They know the whole story.”

“Because they need to meet me. I’m going to be around their grandchild every day. Surely that counts for something.”

Did he just tell me he’s going to be around the baby every day? This is getting more complicated by the minute. I am confused, to say the least, plus it’s after midnight and well past my bedtime. No good could come from this conversation.

“I really don’t think—”

“I’m going. Either you tell them I’ll be there or I will,” he threatens, eyeing me dubiously.

“Are you threatening me?”
I raise my voice.

“Honestly Malone, why do you have to be so fucking stubborn all the time?”

I call defeat. “Fine. Your funeral. My dad once shot a deer on top of the mountain range from our front porch. Just saying.”

He appears amused, the corners of his lips curving upwards, and to disguise his moment of weakness, he moves his hand towards his stubble and rubs his chin gently.

“I have a black belt in martial arts. Plus I can wrestle a boar in the wild. But’s that a story for another time.”

I let out a small laugh. Maybe this won’t be so bad, and just maybe there is a side to him that I haven’t seen yet.

But that’s the thing about maybes; they leave you with a ray of hope when chances are you’re bound to get hurt one way or another.

T
he plan to visit my parents came to a screeching halt when Jason called to inform me that the apartment had sold. It happened late Sunday, and I missed his call while taking the longest nap that ever existed.
Fatigue is a bitch.
My new routine gym effort was proving difficult, as was my ability to curb my coffee cravings. Tea was coffee’s bitch.

Yes, I am THAT tired.

I contemplate calling him back, but I’m weak and extremely aroused. Stupid
What to Expect When You’re Expecting
books were spot on. My hormones had turned into a sorority of college boys all trying to get me to succumb to a wild orgy. I knew if I talked to Jason, I would invite him over one last time and take him on the kitchen bench, armed with a tub of maple syrup.

Cravings are also a bitch.

But texting can only get you so far, so I swallow my pride, hormones, and all the other crap, and call him.

“Long time no speak,” he greets warmly.

My body involuntarily sinks into my bed at the sound of his voice.
I miss him, I miss his voice. I can almost smell him over the phone.

“So, it’s sold? I’ll sure miss this place.”

“The buyers are a young couple. Nice enough. Anyway, they want to move in next month.”

Add more stress to my growing ball of stress twine. “That’s quick. I’m half packed I guess, so it shouldn’t be a problem,” I respond calmly.

There is an awkward silence, and I hear a shuffle over the phone. “So how have you been?”

“Good,” I reply. “And you?”

“Yeah, good. I’m seeing someone,” he admits quietly.

“I figured. You’re something special, it was only a matter of time.” I smile into the receiver.

He laughs, and it’s familiar and comforting. “And you?”

I had thought about telling him about the baby but decided against it. It doesn’t matter anyway. He has moved on. Sooner or later he will find out, but as for now, I’m downright exhausted and just can’t find the energy to have that long-winded conversation which will probably end up with me in tears.

“No, still single. Just working and stuff.”

We talk for another hour about work, family, and life. It’s like visiting an old friend, and during the conversation it becomes even clearer to me that we made the right decision. He hasn’t changed one bit, but that’s Jason. Happy to live in the same bubble, just screwing someone else instead of me.

In my mad rush to find somewhere to live, Vicky comes to my rescue. She has a friend living not too far away who has a room available. Her name is Kate and she’s renting the apartment from a friend. I call her first thing on Monday and have a long chat about the room and apartment. She’s super nice, even with her British accent—because of which I sometimes have no clue what she’s saying.

We agreed to meet at her apartment later that afternoon so she could show me around.

“So that’s the kitchen, and just over on the right would be your room.”

Kate opens the door to a sunlit room with a view of a small park. It’s furnished with a double bed and dark wooden dresser that match the floors. There’s a walk-in closet that’s the perfect size to fit all my clothes in. Not that I have many now, since I morphed into a hippopotamus.

“It’s gorgeous. But I wouldn’t be here for long, Kate. With the baby and all, I’ll need to find my own place.”

“That’s totally fine. The room’s always been vacant. The only time it gets used is when my mates from L.A. fly over, but even then the lot of them prefer to stay at the Waldorf so they can have a gander at the cute bellhops.”

I wasn’t quite sure what gander meant, but I laughed anyway because the bellhops were indeed cute.

We sit in the kitchen and talk for a bit, getting to know each other. Kate is from Manchester and moved here permanently a few years back. She is head of the division in her company and is completely career obsessed, which she blames for her lack of relationships.

“So no boyfriend?” I grin, taking a sip of my tea.

“Uh…I wouldn’t call it that. It’s complicated.”

“It always is, trust me.”

“It’s only complicated because I’ve been…
involved
…with my best friend’s brother.”

“And let me guess, she doesn’t know?”

Kate shakes her head. “He doesn’t know. And he doesn’t exactly get along with his brother so I’m fairly certain he would go barmy on me.”

Note to self: Google “barmy”.

“I guess if you’re having fun and it’s not serious, you could keep it on the down low.”

“Trying to hide something from Eric is like
Mission Impossible
. He has a radar on everything; he could just look at you and tell when you last had sex. Lying to him is exhausting. I’ve been telling him that I’m screwing this guy at work.”

“It could be worse…look at me.”

Kate admitted that she was dying to know my story, and given that we were roommates now, I told her the truth.

“Wow! All my mates are married with kids, or getting married. Except for Vicky. Vicky is a hoot! Did she tell you about our weekend in Atlantic City?”

“That was you?” I laugh.

I remember the story vividly. Vicky and a friend had met these guys at the craps table, and they weren’t shy about letting them know they wanted to spoil them for the whole weekend. They were taken to the fanciest restaurants and were showered with lavish gifts. Then when it came time for the intimate dinner in the hotel room, Vicky and Kate both did a runner and checked into another hotel. They even bought wigs in case they ran into them.

When they got to the airport, the men happened to be there and were super pissed. The only thing that saved Vicky and Kate was that the airport security detained the men because of the large amount of cash they were carrying. The girls got on their flight, lucky to get away from them.

“That was me alright. It was totally hilarious! No partying for you, though. So if you don’t mind me asking, where’s the Jerk now?”

“Around, somewhere. Like I said, we don’t really communicate well.”

“So is he still getting married? What kinda bird would wanna get hitched after hearing that news?”

“The kinda bird that must really love him, I guess.”

Kate pulls the keys out of her purse and removes a spare from the key ring. “Here you go. Feel free to move your stuff in whenever. I’ll be working late most nights this week because my boss is in town. Maybe you can join us for dinner one night?” She smiles.

“Sure.” I smile back.

With that problem sorted, I focus on packing up my apartment and tying up some loose ends at work before I leave to visit my folks. Haden had booked a flight the day after mine, and would be staying for only the weekend. He tried to book a motel but my mother insisted he could sleep in the guestroom. He thought it was very nice of her, but deep down I knew it was her way of watching him and asking a thousand questions. She reminded me every day that he was the father and this is who my child will look up too.

Great, my child will wrestle boars.

The day before I am scheduled to leave, I am met by an unusual surprise. As I’m just about to grab a quick lunch, I look up and see Eloise standing at my cubicle. Wearing a knitted pale pink top and a grey pencil skirt, she stands proudly in her high patent pumps. Her long blonde hair is parted to one side, and even I have to admit, she is drop dead gorgeous.

“Hi Presley. I didn’t mean to intrude. I was hoping you were free for lunch?”

I’m put on the spot; there’s no way out of this. “Sure, Eloise.”

We head to some “healthy living” restaurant not too far from the office. Salads aren’t really on my agenda, considering all I can think about is a big fat juicy hamburger and a bowl of syrup on the side. Nevertheless, I order a warm chicken salad. Eloise orders a soup that looks like mushed lawn.

“Haden told me everything,” she opens up. “It was quite a shock, and definitely took me some time to take it all in.”

I remain quiet, not sure of where she’s going with this.

“I love Haden. Meeting him was like fate, you know? Everything was just perfect and he is just so…I don’t know, it’s hard to explain.”

Maybe she can’t explain it, but it is written all over her face. That constant glow of happiness, the eyes dancing in delight, the smile that cannot be erased. She’s in love, and here I sit without a man in my life and the possibility that I will never find love because I’ll be a single mother.

“We want to help you. Both Haden and I. I know he has difficulty showing it. But he is a kind person, Presley, you just have to be patient with him,” she says softly.

“Eloise, despite what happened, I don’t know him from a bar of soap. You have to understand that I need to be able to trust the both of you with my child.”

“But it’s Haden’s child, too,” she reminds me.

“Yes…” I admit, “but I’m carrying this baby. I’m the primary parent.”

“So that’s another thing. We’d like to talk about putting together a schedule. You know, what days and weekends we could have the baby.”

My warm chicken salad might as well have been a bowl of jagged-edged rocks. Swallowing a mouthful, the sharp edges painfully slide down along with my overwhelming desire to tell the both of them to fuck off. The baby is still inside me and we’re planning out schedules?!

She reminds me of myself, and maybe if she wasn’t his fiancée, I would think this was a good idea. Especially since I plan everything out and even mentioned this to him. But I’m a hormonal monster in heat, this baby is mine, and there is no chance in hell they will steal this baby away from me.

“While your suggestions are appreciated, I would like to discuss all this with Haden,” I say in my polite yet gritting voice.

“I’m sorry.” She places her hand on mine, making me feel very uncomfortable. “I think this weekend will be great for the both of you. Gives you time to talk about plans and schedules.”

“You won’t be joining us?” I ask, pretending to play dumb.

“No, I have a dress fitting, plus my bachelorette night.” She smiles playfully.

The looming wedding is a dark grey cloud hovering over me. “Oh, I didn’t realize you were getting married so soon.”

“Still six months away but my schedule is so busy and my best friend is getting married in two months, so it was the only free weekend I had.”

I look at my watch, praying that time is up, and thank the fucking stars it is.

“Listen, I have to head back to work. It was really nice chatting with you, Eloise.”

She places her hand on mine again, and this time I wait with patience. “No, thank you, Presley. Haden told me how nice you were and that we would get along.”

“I highly doubt that.” I chuckle. “He doesn’t think very highly of me.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” She pulls back almost immediately, her perfectly-shaped brows furrowing in concern. “When we met in London, he never stopped talking about you. Sure, it was work related, but it was your name that I heard, and with admiration.”

“Honestly Eloise, you must be mistaken. Maybe he was talking about Dee. Haden and me don’t see eye to eye on a lot of things.”

“I know what I heard. To be honest, I thought you guys dated by the way he spoke about you. I was even jealous for a while.” With a disturbingly fake laugh, she continues. “Anyway, timing was perfect for us. He met me, and look, we are getting married!”

Is this true? Shell-shocked by her comment, I pass it off as nothing, but my brain is going into overdrive. “Anyway, thanks for lunch, Eloise.”

Back in the office, I stare at my screen in a daze. So much of what she told me doesn’t add up. Obviously, she knows Haden better than I do. Actually, I don’t know him at all, yet the conversation on the way he talked about me fills me with a desire to find out more. So what if he said nice things? It doesn’t mean anything. Remember, he said I meant nothing to him. Those were his exact words to Marcus.

“Hey.” Haden is leaning against my partition, and the smell of his aftershave hits me.
God, he smells so good. And why is that deep burgundy shirt accentuating his perfectly-toned forearms?