For His Honor (4 page)

“I think he’s just a very rich man used to getting what he wants.”

“Exactly. What if he decides he wants to have sex with you one night?”

It was a valid point. “I don’t know. My instincts tell me he’s not that kind of guy. Yes, he’s sneaky and entitled and I don’t like him much as a person. But rapist? I just don’t see it.”

“Well maybe you don’t, but I’m putting my foot down this time, Nic. You’ve gotten me involved now. I need you to call Kane and tell him you’re backing out on the deal.”

“I think he’s already made arrangements to pay off all your debt,” Nicole said.

“So even if I back out, he’ll have paid close to a hundred thousand dollars on your behalf.

We’re going to owe him either way.”

“Maybe I’ll call him and deal with it myself.”

“Look, Danielle, I don’t have time to argue. I’m sorry for dragging you into this—seriously, I am. But I need to get ready for work.”

Danielle glanced down at the bag.

For a moment, Nicole was sure she’d seen through the plastic and realized that Nicole had come back to the apartment with a bunch of pregnancy tests. But then she realized she was just being paranoid.

“Okay, do whatever you want Nicole. I’m just getting really tired of you treating me like an afterthought.”

“I’m sorry, I’ll make it up to you.”

“I’ve heard that one before.”

Nicole didn’t know what else to say. Danielle was right, of course, but Nicole had bigger problems. Like finding out for sure if her fears were unfounded or if she was going to be having a major life crisis.

She got to the bathroom and closed the door, even locking it behind her.

She’d never had to take a pregnancy test before. This was the first time. There had been a lot of firsts since she’d started working at Jameson International. Most of the firsts had been things she’d never imagined herself going through and this was certainly one of those instances.

Nicole sat down on the toilet and opened the first pregnancy test kit. Pulling out the directions, she read them carefully—even though she knew they were so simple a seventh grader could follow them (and she supposed in this day and age, many did).

She was heartened to read that “early morning urine” contained the highest concentration of hCG and so would make for the best sample. Thank god for small favors. Hopefully, she would at least be assured of an accurate test right now.

Her heart was beating faster and faster as she held the strip in her hand. She needed a cup to pee into, which she hadn’t thought of, and didn’t want to go into the kitchen to get one. Facing Danielle’s wrath yet again wasn’t something she was looking to do at this particular moment.

But luckily they had some spare plastic cups under the bathroom sink. “You can do this,” she told herself, grabbing the cub and then pulling down her sweatpants and holding the cup under her.

She peed into it, just enough to make sure she could cover the stick the way she needed to, and then finished peeing into the toilet.

Her hands were shaking as she sat and dipped the test strip into the urine. She counted to three and then took the strip out and laid it across a folded up piece of toilet paper on top of the sink to let it dry.

The instructions had said that she could get results in as soon as forty seconds, but the entire time of three minutes should be allowed for full results.

So Nicole got up and stared at the strip lying on the sink and watched it. It was sort of like watching paint dry, she decided, only a whole lot more interesting. Her entire life was going to change depending on the results.

It occurred to her that she hadn’t truly thought about whether or not she wanted a child. Obviously it would be crazy to have a baby in the current situation, but what if Red was still in the picture?

They’d talked about having kids and Nicole knew she wanted to start a family someday, preferably when she was young enough to have two or three children without worrying about her age and reproductive capabilities.

As she was thinking about all of this, as her mind spun round and round the different what ifs and possibilities, her eyes suddenly registered what was happening to the test strip. First the one line appeared, which she knew could mean a negative. But then quickly thereafter, the second line began appearing, as if by magic.

Nicole swooned a little, watching the tiny purplish line slowly (but faster than she’d ever expected) appearing on the little stick.

“Oh my god,” she whispered. “Oh my god.”

She was pregnant.

Nicole didn’t know what to do next.

She sat on the toilet and held the pregnancy strip in her hand and marveled at how such a tiny, flimsy little thing could have such an enormous, earth-shattering impact on her future.

No matter what happens from here on, I’ll never be able to say I’ve never been
pregnant. I’m pregnant with Red Jameson’s baby.

Even thinking the words didn’t make it seem real. The realness of it only served to make it more…unreal.

That was the word that should be used to describe her life now, Nicole thought. If someone made a movie about her or wrote a book, it would be called UNREAL: THE

NICOLE MASTERS STORY.

She smiled a little at her crazy, jumbled thoughts, but then the smile died when she again stared at the test strip. Okay, possible false positive? She wondered.

Time to try again.

She ripped open the second test (a totally different brand) and also dipped that in the cup of urine.

Minutes later, it too had come up positive.

And not long after, she did the third one (because everyone knew three times is a charm and three strikes your out, etc. etc.).

They all said the same thing. Nicole Masters was incontrovertibly pregnant, and now she needed to figure out what to do next.

***

Nicole wasn’t sure exactly when she’d decided that she needed to talk to Red.

Everything was happening so fast. And yet, at other moments, time seemed to have slowed to a crawl and the seconds were like hours.

She removed all evidence of her pregnancy from the bathroom, threw it all in a trash bag and then dumped that trash bag into the bottom of another bag full of garbage that Danielle would be very unlikely to sift through (unless she was secretly working for the FBI or something).

With that piece done, Nicole took out her phone and sat in the living room, staring at Red’s cell number.

Danielle had already gone off to work, so she had the apartment to herself.

Nicole sure as heck wasn’t going to the office today. No, today was a day she definitely needed some “me time.” Time to figure out how the hell she was going to deal with this issue, time to decide whether she could manage this on her own or whether Red might actually step up to the plate and help her to work through things.

But she was scared. She was scared first and foremost that Red had already moved on, put her in the past. Maybe he hadn’t really loved her the way she’d loved him—he certainly hadn’t played the part of a loving fiancé when he’d dumped her unceremoniously after his brother’s visit to his mansion.

Nicole didn’t believe that was the real Red who’d dumped her, who’d told her that he was protecting her from himself. Nicole thought that Red had been overcome by fear and self-doubt and self-loathing. He truly believed that she would be better off without him in her life.

Still, there was an echo of doubt reverberating in her mind. Maybe it was her mother’s voice, so sure of the fact that Red Jameson was nothing but a scoundrel, the worst kind of man you could meet—an undependable man.

Would Red even want to know that she was pregnant? She wondered.

Finally she forced herself to dial his number.

And her call went right to voicemail.

The mailbox was full, so she couldn’t even leave a message. After so much tension had built up inside her, struggling about even making this call, she was crushed to realize that Red’s phone was basically a nonworking number now.

The next step was even worse.

She had no choice but to show up at his home and demand to see him.

Changing into a decent outfit (a sleeveless blue dress and sandals), Nicole left the apartment and took the train out as far as she could, and then grabbed a taxi to take her the rest of the way to Red’s mansion.

She tried to keep herself calm as they got closer and closer. When they finally arrived at the front gate, the taxi driver turned to her. “You sure this is the place?” he asked.

“I’m sure,” she said, a horrible feeling coming over her.

The guard at the gate was someone she didn’t recognize. An older man with a bald head and white mustache, he glanced inside at her and then spoke to the driver.

“Can I help you?”

“This girl asked me to take her here.”

“Name please?” The guard said, now directing the questions at her.

“Nicole. Masters. It’s an emergency.”

“What sort of emergency, ma’am?”

“I need to see Red—I mean, I need to speak to Mister Jameson as soon as possible.” She tried to keep the neediness and fear out of her voice lest this stranger assume she was one of Red’s groupies, a stalker who’d carried out some delusional fantasy of seducing the powerful executive.

Red had told her such things happened from time to time and the security guards would all be well aware of it.

Nicole hated that she fit the profile, and she hated Red for putting her in a position of having to beg to see him.

The guard retreated back to his booth and picked up the phone. He had a brief conversation.

Nicole’s heart was pounding again. When the man came back to the taxi, he was stone faced and unapologetic. “I’ll relay the message ma’am.”

“Is he here?”

“I’m not at liberty to say. But I’ll do my best to make sure he knows you’ve stopped by and that the matter is urgent.”

“I promise you, he’ll really want to know—“

The guard held up a hand. “I understand ma’am. This is the best I can do.”

The tears were in her eyes as she nodded and sat back in her seat. “Okay.

Thanks.”

The taxi driver glanced in his rearview mirror at her. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah. Just take me back to the train station,” she said softly.

***

There was nothing to do but go back to the apartment and sulk and fret and pace.

She couldn’t sit still and watch TV or read a book. There was nobody she trusted enough to call or talk to about this, other than Red. And apparently he didn’t want to talk to her. She couldn’t even be sure he was home or knew she’d come by.

After all, the word around town and in all the gossip sites was that Red had lit off for unknown territories; they had him looking like Tom Hanks in Cast Away. Bearded, perhaps wearing nothing but shorts and a tattered old t-shirt, stumbling about on some faraway beach and drinking Coronas, eating clams, getting that beer belly he’d always sworn he’d never get.

If Red were in such a place, doing those things, then perhaps it would disturb him to know that back home he had a pregnant ex-fiancé who desperately wanted to have a word with him. Or maybe not. Maybe Red had specifically run away in order to never again be confronted with a needy chick asking something of him that he could not give.

But even if he was trying to get away from her entirely, Nicole knew she had to have this conversation with him, even if it was the very last one. It was her duty to tell him she was pregnant with his baby, and then it would be up to Red whether he wanted to shirk his obligations or not.

How can I get in touch with him? She wondered.

Nobody seemed to know where he was, his work email was nonfunctional since he was no longer at the company, and she couldn’t get past the front gate of his house.

If only she knew some of his friends or family members that might have spoken with him recently, someone who might have a sense of where he’d be staying right now.

His mother was a nightmare, and Nicole doubted they’d spoken at all since he kicked her out of the house. Even if they had somehow talked since that horrible day, Nicole doubted that mean old crab would tell her anything helpful. She’d probably just take the chance to throw in a few of her vicious digs about why Nicole wasn’t worth her son’s time.

Pacing back and forth in the kitchen, chewing her bottom lip, Nicole suddenly thought of Red’s younger brother, Jeb. Jeb had been nice to her and they’d even had a pretty warm conversation the very last time she’d spoken to him.

She didn’t have his number, but she knew his name and also knew he had a family practice just outside of Chicago.

Nicole ran to her laptop and quickly did a Google search for Jeb Jameson, family practice, Chicago. A website came up that she knew had to be his. Her heart racing with excitement but also fear—if Jeb didn’t know how to reach Red than she would be at a total dead end—Nicole picked up her phone and quickly made the call before she could second-guess herself.

A moment later, a friendly sounding woman picked up. “Jameson Family Medical Group,” she said perkily.

“I need to speak with Doctor Jameson,” Nicole said, trying to steady her voice.

“Are you a patient, ma’am?”

She debated lying. But what would be the point of that? Instead, Nicole said:

“I’m a friend of Dr. Jameson’s brother, Red. There’s been an emergency and I need to speak with Dr. Jameson as soon as possible.”

“Oh.” The woman sounded confused momentarily. “Can I get your name please?”

“Nicole Masters.”

“Let me go check and see if the doctor is available. Hold one moment.”

After a brief click, the muzak started up and Nicole waited, chewing on her lower lip and circling her kitchen, sometimes walking heel to toe, sometimes on her tiptoes.

She was thrumming with energy, nervous, trying to allow herself some hope even though she knew this was a long shot at best.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Jeb picked up the line. “Nicole, what’s happened? Is my brother okay?”

Instantly, she felt horrible for saying it was an emergency and frightening him.