#Jerk (18 page)

“I see. Enough said.”

“So anyway, I was telling Lex you work at Lantern Publishing. His brother-in-law”—Lex’s eyes turn to Kate with an evil stare—”published his manuscripts with the Californian branch.”

“What’s his name?” I ask curiously.

“Julian Baker,” Kate replies.

“What? Are you kidding me? I love his work, not to mention he is...oh wait, pregnant hormonal lady on the loose. He is gorgeous.” I fan myself with a napkin, a wide smile on my face.

Lex’s eyes narrow and Kate is quick to jump in. “Sorry Pres, he is married now to Lex’s sister.”

I laugh loosely. “I’m always missing the boat. So yes, he has done a great deal for Lantern Publishing and opened up avenues for other authors. He’s never visited our New York office, but hopefully he will one day.”

“So correct me if I’m wrong, Mr. Sadler owns and operates this branch?” Lex questions in a more business-like manner, quick to get off the topic of Julian Baker.

“Yes, I’ve been working for him for about eight years now,” I tell him.

“I met him last year at a conference. Kate and I discussed branching out into publishing. With business thriving in our production company, we are looking to expand once again. He was quite knowledgeable, as was his son.”

“Son? Mr. Sadler doesn’t have a son…” I answer, puzzled.

Lex furrows his brows. “He introduced him to us. What was his name again, Kate?”

“Had...oh my god, Presley!
Why didn’t I put two and two together?
” she almost yells.

I am confused by Kate’s outburst. “What are you talking about?”

She drops her cutlery immediately, leaning back into her chair and folding her arms with a surprised look on her face. “Haden, he’s Mr. Sadler’s son...your baby daddy.”

This time Lex looks confused. “Wait, the dad is Haden Cooper?”

I quickly shoot the ridiculous notion down. “I think you guys are mistaken. Haden isn’t his son.”

“Stepson,” Lex corrects me. “He married Haden’s mom when Haden was young—that’s what he told me.”

Now it’s my turn to sit here in disbelief. I’m staring blankly at my plate, trying to piece the puzzle together. I didn’t understand why Mr. Sadler never said anything, even after he congratulated me at the party. Surely he would have known from all the office gossip that Haden knocked me up. It explains why he got away with murder, but what doesn’t make sense is why he would hide this from me. It wasn’t a big deal.

“Presley, you look pale. Are you okay? Do you want me to take you home?” Kate’s worried face pulls me out of my confused daze.

I smile at them and lie easily. “I’m fine.”

The conversation carries on, and I immerse myself in business talk which distracts me for a while. Lex Edwards is a very powerful and smart man. I have never met someone so driven, yet so family-oriented at the same time. I understand why Kate speaks so highly of him, and together they are such a dynamic duo with the ideas they are bouncing off each other during dinner.

As the night winds down, Lex says his goodbyes before an early flight back home. Before he leaves, he offers his support, should I ever need it.

“This is my wife’s number and email. If ever you want to ask questions or have a chat, please feel free to contact her. She comes to the city often and I’m sure Kate will take you girls out.” He hands me a business card. “Now, here is my contact information, if ever you need anything or if the two of them get up to no good.”

I laugh. “Thank you, Lex, for being so kind. It was really nice to meet you.”

On our way home that night, I can tell Kate knows something isn’t right.

“You had no idea his stepfather was your boss, did you?”

“None whatsoever,” I answer bluntly. “Why would he keep this from me?”

“I have no clue. Is it a big deal, though?”

“It just doesn’t make sense. Listen, I’m going to his place. I need answers.”

She nods. “Want me to come with?”

“No.” I smile at her. “You’ve got your secret date tonight.”

She returns the smile. “I’m just a phone call away, okay?”

I hop into a cab and give the driver the address. Ten minutes later, I am standing outside Haden’s door hoping Marcus isn’t home, or worse, Eloise. Music is playing in the background, gangsta rap of some sort. I knock on the door and wait. Nothing. I bang harder and the door is opened by some guy I don’t recognize.

“Hey Mama, who you here for?” He smirks, laughing oddly at the question.

Mama? Jesus, there’s a first time for everything.

I try to look past his shoulders, but he is quite tall.

“Who does she belong to?” he yells back into the room.

He moves his body and I can see directly into the dim room. Marcus is lying on the sofa with some random chick straddling him. As I scan the room for Haden, a god-awful stench invades my lungs, causing me to cough and heave. It’s like a trip down memory lane, or college lane more like it.

It smells like weed.

This can’t be good for the baby, so to make this quick, I search again and find Haden sitting against the wall. He spots me, and with a crooked smile, he raises his head to greet me.

“Can I please speak to you? Out here in the hall?”

I walk out of the apartment, but not before Marcus jumps up and pushes the girl off him.
“Presley, baby, I still love you.”
His pathetic attempt at speaking to me deserves no response.

Haden stumbles out of the room and I realize this isn’t the best time, but stupid me asks anyway.

“Why didn’t you tell me Mr. Sadler was your stepdad?” Annoyed and keeping my distance, I stand against the wall.

“You know what?” He points his index finger at me. “You’re beautiful.”

It’s followed by a delirious laugh and I throw my hands up in the air, frustrated that I’m wasting my time. I turn away and walk towards the stairwell, and just when I think I’ve escaped, he grips my shoulder and swiftly turns me around.

His eyes are wild, seriously dark, and the laughter he showcased only moments ago has disappeared. My eyes are drawn to his stained shirt and ripped jeans. It’s very unlike him to be so unkempt, especially with a rugged beard and scruffy hair.

“Why don’t you answer me when I tell you you’re beautiful?” he grits, pinning me closer to the wall.

“Because you’re a jerk that is clearly stoned right now.”

“It’s not an answer!” he raises his voice.

Startled, but refusing to show it, I bite back. “Fine. Thank you. Now let me go.”

His hands trail across my collarbone and directly down my chest, and I don’t stop him, only because I’m gearing up to kick him in the nuts if Kitty can stop drooling long enough.

“Why do you make life so hard for me? What is it about you, Malone?” He refuses to look me in the eye, talking to himself rather than to me.

“Haden, I need to go. This is pointless.”

“Where are you going? Let me come with you,” he pleads.

Underneath his strong and arrogant persona lies desperation and turmoil. I can’t tell whether he has a hidden agenda or just needs a friend right now. Then I remember that men don’t like to talk, so I’m guessing the hidden agenda may be sex for all the wrong reasons.

I stand tall and lean forward to kiss him on the cheek, a gesture of goodwill before walking away, but he swiftly locks his lips onto mine.

He forces his tongue into my mouth, but the intensity and longing is torn away as my protective instinct for the baby fogs any passion towards him. Pushing him back, I catch some air before telling him no.

“We can’t do that, and you’ve been smoking. That can’t be good for my baby.”

He smashes his fist against the wall, screaming in agony.

“OUR! Why won’t you fucking get it through your head that it’s our baby?!”

“Because you haven’t stepped up and proven to me you are responsible. If you can turn up on Monday morning without being stoned or acting like a jerk, maybe then I can take you seriously.”

I push him out of the way and walk down the stairs, praying that he won’t follow.

He doesn’t.

And first thing on Monday morning, I get the call we’ve been waiting for.

The paternity results are finally in.

I
slam the envelope down on his desk, trying to draw some sort of a reaction from him. Nothing but a sideways glance, then he refocuses on his computer screen. I’m irritated by his stubbornness and his disregard for a clean and sanitary working environment; it drives me fucking nuts. Papers are stacked in no specific order and pens are missing their lids, not to mention chewed at their ends. An empty coffee mug sits beside his desk phone, growing some green species inside it, unwashed and smeared with lipstick.
Gross, it’s not even his.

“We need to talk,” I grit, barely able to contain my anger.

“I’m busy.”

“You’re drinking a can of Coke and playing solitaire.”

“Exactly. I’m in the middle of something.”

“Fine, I’ll do it here,” I bellow, crossing my arms in frustration. “Thanks for not showing up at the ultrasound. I had to fucking reschedule. Would it have hurt you to pick up the phone? Or even send a text? Since clearly, you have no balls whatsoever.”

The king lines up to his final card and the screen shows his victory win. He shuts the page down then turns to face me. He looks ghastly, with deep dark circles shadowing his dull eyes, not to mention his beard that has truly taken on a life of its own. He was obviously stoned and drunk all weekend.

Looking uninterested, he takes a drink, then throws the can into the trash. “Are you done now?”

I exhale at his insensitivity. “No, I am not done. This is exactly why I don’t want you in my child’s life. You’ve proven once again you have no desire to be a father, and I’m really sorry that your name sits inside that envelope.”

His face falls and he quickly opens it to read the answer he is undoubtedly hoping isn’t true. His expression turns to pity, fear, and most noticeably, regret. The quick stabbing pains in my heart make me wish he had reacted differently, that maybe in some universe filled with rainbows and unicorns he would have jumped for joy.

But he didn’t.

And sometimes, one look can say a thousand words.

What did I seriously expect? He is twenty-six. He rides a motorbike and gets stoned on the weekends. I couldn’t have picked a less desirable sperm donor if I had plucked one from a hat.

Whatever part of me still clings to some sort of pathetic miracle should have read all the signs by now. I only rile myself up the more I dwell on it. Where did smart, level-headed Presley run off to? Well, it is time for her to come back. Guns blazing.

“So you have your proof now, but it doesn’t matter,” I tell him, trying to remain strong. “On top of all this, I don’t know why you hid the fact that Mr. Sadler is your stepfather, and you know what?” My heated words and my irritable behavior should forewarn him of the storm that’s about to hit. “I don’t know you at all, Haden. Your mood swings are worse than a fifteen-year-old girl’s. I know you’re hiding something, but who knows what? And I have no clue why you’re getting married to someone you barely know! I’m really over all your immature games. I’ve got a child to raise, and frankly, I don’t care whether you’re a part of it or not.”

I storm off, not waiting for an answer.
This day just went from bad to complete and utter hell.
To top it off, I am pissed at myself for even mentioning the marriage thing. Yeah, in hindsight, what did it matter? What he did with his life was his business. Why did I want some sort of answer or insight into why he is marrying a woman he has known for such a short time?

Kitty is raising her hand like an overeager student, because she has all the answers. Teacher’s pet!
I shut her down and send her to detention. All this is her fault anyway!

Back at my desk, I struggle to get any tasks done. Everything in my life feels like a giant mess. When these moods appear, there is only one solution: clean. I grab some disinfectant and wipe my entire desk down including my keyboard. Removing the keys one by one, wiping, replacing. I file away the two papers sitting on my desk and sharpen all my pencils to the same height. Then I reorganize my filing cabinet and archive some old paperwork.

That was too easy.

So I sneak into the main kitchen and start cleaning out the fridge. I was wrong about the Jerk’s cup and the new species growing inside it, because there is something ten times worse in this fridge. Someone has left a moldy apple, a rotten banana, and some cheese in a plastic container. It’s now green, furry, and I swear on my unborn child’s life, I see movement in the box. I shiver and pinch the sides of the container, throwing it in the trash.

Breathing a sigh of a relief when I can practically see my reflection in the countertops, I head back to my desk, much calmer now. Sitting in my chair with a fresh cup of tea, I take in the peace and quiet for just a moment. It is short lived as my cell starts to dance across my desk. I recognize the number and pick it up. The receptionist at the ultrasound place had a last-minute cancellation this afternoon, and I’m quick to accept her timeslot. This morning was bad enough, showing up and waiting like an idiot. I’ve learned my lesson and have no desire to tell him about this second appointment.

“Guess what?!” Vicky is sitting on my freshly-disinfected desk with her (God knows where it’s been) ass.

Frowning, I eventually indulge her. “Let me guess, the Jerk came and saw you and is trying to worm his way back as Mr. Nice Guy?”

She stops mid-smile and grimaces.
“Are you in love with him?”

“Wh…why would you say that?” I stutter, wanting to slap myself in the face for making her think I am.
Because I’m not.

“Just asking…so anyway, Patrick called me,” she says excitedly.

Welcoming the switch of topic and avoiding the awkward conversation about love, I am shocked and surprised to learn the weasel is contacting Vicky again. Here’s the thing about Patrick: he’s
the
ultimate jerk. The amount of pain and humiliation he caused Vicky is downright inexcusable. There is no logical reason for him to call Vicky, apart from wanting to bang her one more time, then send her off on a shame parade down the highway to hell.

“Patrick? Your ex? The man who was married with kids and fucked you till all hell broke loose?
Patrick?”

She grins, and automatically I worry that she will (if she hasn’t already) jump on the boat to Brokenheartsville.
Again.

“Vicky, don’t go there again. You were a mess last time,” I gently warn her.

“But this time I’m over him. I’m just curious to find out what he wants,” she tries to reassure me.

This isn’t good. I have half a mind to call him up and tell him to fuck off or I’ll chop his balls up and feed it to the snappy dog that lives next door. But of course, I try to be the mature and ever-so-caring friend. I was there through it all, from the snotty sobs to plotting the ultimate revenge. What I didn’t expect was to be back here two years later, and for Vicky to so eagerly jump back in.

“What else would he want but to get you into bed?”

“Closure,” she replies.

“Guys don’t want closure. They just go find some new jackrabbit to fuck…or something along those lines,” I mumble.

“What?”

“Never mind,” I tell her.
Stupid jerk.

Vicky continues to justify her reasons for responding to him, and I continue to play the friend that tries to stop her from making another wrong decision. But it’s her decision, and no amount of persuasion from me will change her mind. Mental note: stock up on ice cream because it’s all downhill from here.

“I’m guessing we will continue this conversation tonight. Listen, I love you, but if he hurts you in the slightest way, I will go all psycho on his ass.”

“I know you got my back.” She simpers, leaning in to kiss my forehead as reassurance. “Are you going somewhere now?”

“The Jerk stood me up this morning so I missed my appointment. The ultrasound place has another opening this afternoon, so once I finish this report I’m working on, I’m heading out.”

“Uh oh. I need the whole story.” She glances at her watch. “But I’ve got a meeting I need to get to. I’ll call you tonight, okay?” She raises her eyes, then quickly says goodbye and disappears. Weird, but then again, her head is probably clouded with thoughts of Patrick and his wandering dick.

I make it to the appointment with only a minute to spare. The sonographer, Sandra, invites me into the room, and just as I’m about to close the door behind me, I hear chaos in the waiting room.

“Am I late?”

Panting and out of breath, the Jerk bends, resting his body against the door and trying to redeem himself. His hair is a wild mess and sweat is visibly dripping down his forehead.

“Why are you here? I didn’t tell you…”

Damn Vicky! That conniving little witch!

“I’m here, okay? Quit giving me grief.”

Secretly, I am glad he is here. Whatever reason he felt the need to see
our
baby, I don’t care. It’s the first moment throughout the pregnancy where I feel normal, and when I say normal, I mean with a partner right beside me. Sure, it’s all fantasy, but just for this short time I can pretend it’s real.

But, of course, I wouldn’t think of telling him that, and instead I poke fun at him.

“Geez, Jerk, wouldn’t hurt you to hit the gym once in a while.”

“
I ran ten blocks,”
he responds, exasperated.
“In an Armani suit.”

I roll my eyes at his melodrama and walk into the room. My cheeks start to flush as I think of having to change into the gown. Thankfully, Sandra senses my embarrassment and leads me to the bathroom inside the room where I quickly change into my gown. Walking back into the room, my bare body lays beneath the thin material and feels extremely exposed.

Ignore that he is right beside you, because it’s not like he has X-ray vision!

I cross to the other side of the bed as Sandra assists me with getting comfortable. The sheets are placed strategically over Kitty, and the Jerk takes a seat beside me as the warm lube is spread all over my belly.

“That’s a lot of lube,” he snickers under his breath.

“So mature,
Jerk.”

The volume is turned up on the machine, and Sandra moves around my uterus until the baby’s heartbeat echoes throughout the room. It’s like music to my ears, and my eyes move towards the screen as I watch the images of what looks like a happy little baby cooped up inside.

“So the baby is measuring correctly,” she tells us, typing in the measurements as she speaks.

Haden is staring at the screen, fixated on the baby. “Can you tell us what the sex is?”

“I sure can.” She smiles.

“Don’t tell him. I don’t want to know.” I shake my head.

“You can’t decide that for me.”

“Seriously, what the hell is your problem? You think I’m hormonal, what about you? You’re such a jerk!”

Sandra pauses and looks at the both of us. “So yes…no?”

“No,” I say at the same time he says
yes.

I speak up again. “Absolutely not. If you want to know, then I’ll leave the room.”

“No yet, Miss Malone. I just wanted to talk about the position. The baby is breech. However, there is still time to turn.”

In a blind panic, I ask, “Is there anything I can do to help the baby turn?”

“Your obstetrician may be able to assist, but the best thing you can do is relax and enjoy the rest of the pregnancy. Any previous concerns we had don’t seem to be an issue anymore.”

She spends longer checking the baby and its progress, and I forget the Jerk is even in the room. I only remember he is here when I hear him clear his throat. Something about the way he is amorously staring at the screen consumes me. He’s lost in a moment where his soul becomes an open book, and I see a man who is capable of loving this unborn child more than
himself
. It moves me, yet I break away from these thoughts. This line of thinking is dangerous, because deep inside, my walls are breaking down and he is the giant wrecking ball ready to do damage.

It takes every part of me to turn away from this beautiful sight and move myself off the bed.

Haden reaches out his hand to help me, but stubborn old me refuses to touch him, and I almost fall off the bed.