HEAT: A Bad Boy Romance (13 page)

I
can’t bring
myself to tell him everything right away, so we dance around the subject. Neither of us is entirely comfortable talking on the phone yet.

“So this taste… test event is going well?” he asks when I catch him up on the stuff that seems, at the moment, pointless to talk about.

I’m pacing my living room, struggling with every word. “Taste Teaser, we called it and… yeah, it’s going really well. There are some reviews on Red Hall’s Facebook page, links to the articles they’ve been writing. Have you… been following along?”

“Of course I have, Janie,” Dad says, softly chiding me for thinking he might not. “I’ve seen all sorts of stuff lately. What was that with the guy you threw out?”

My eyes roll, and I groan. “Gloria…” I mutter.

“Who?”

“Uh… yeah, there was this guy causing trouble and I threw him out, and… this woman that works for me was the one that mentioned I was… you know…” I guess there’s some things it doesn’t matter how old you are—I can’t bring myself to talk about my period with my father.

“Ouch. Did you fire her?” he asks. At least he’s on my side.

“Uh, no… she’s a friend of a friend, so…”

“I gotcha,” he says. “Listen, Janie… I’m glad you called and I want to catch up, but did you really call just to let me know what’s going on?”

“Can I not?” I ask.

He sighs. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry. You’re sure there’s nothing else wrong, though? It’s just… we haven’t spent this much time on the phone, well… ever. If you need to talk to me, you know I’ll listen, right? Whatever it is.”

I hold my breath until there are spots in my vision. That’s probably bad for the baby. It’s certainly bad for me, but if I let it go, everything will come pouring out.

I need that to happen very badly, though, so I exhale and with it comes the story.

Dad doesn’t speak the whole time. He doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t judge me, or stop me, or laugh or even sigh meaningfully into the phone. At times I’m not even sure we’re still connected, but I keep talking anyway until it’s all out.

When it is, only then does he speak. “Wow, Janie. I… I’m sorry you’ve been through a rough time. Do you know what you’re going to do?”

I’m conditioned to think that question has specific subtext when I hear it from a man, and I bristle momentarily.

“I mean about the father,” he adds quickly. Maybe he’s been part of a conversation like this before.

I sink onto the couch and pull my knees up. They don’t go as far as they used to. I can’t wrap my arms around them comfortably anymore. It’s begun, and a petty sadness grips me in a moment of vulnerability; not normally enough to put me over or even register, but on top of everything else it’s that last flake of snow before the avalanche happens.

“I don’t know, Daddy,” I say, my voice tight. “He’s… not exactly a good man. I’m not even sure I want him to be a part of the baby’s life.”

“It sounded like you had a good thing for a minute,” Dad says. “Not that I’m defending him, mind you. It was awful, what he did. Thing is… sometimes people do things they can’t take back and… we don’t always have a choice. It sounds like you don’t have the full story yet. Maybe it’s exactly what it looks like, but maybe it isn’t.”

“Is there a difference between someone who does something shitty because they want to, and someone who does it because they need to impress their evil father?” I ask.

Dad’s quiet a moment. “What I mean,” he says more cautiously, “is that what’s done is done. The baby should have a choice in the matter, when it’s old enough to make that choice. You have to think about that now, while there’s time. We can all be terrible people under the wrong circumstances. That doesn’t mean we have to continue being terrible people, just that we have to find ways to make it better. To make ourselves better people.”

We’re no longer talking about me and Jake and the baby. Or at least, not only those things.

“Believe me, Janie,” he says, “not being able to reach out and hold your own children… it hurts. Jake may need a lot of work, a lot of growing up, but he doesn’t deserve that kind of pain. Not just for being misguided and caught up in someone else’s madness, you know?”

“Yeah,” I whisper.

“But listen,” he says, “whatever you decide to do, can I tell you something?”

“Sure.”

“I know this is scary, Janie,” he says, his voice warm and genuine. “And I wish the circumstances were better for you. Happier, and less complicated. But if I’m being honest… I’m overjoyed to hear that I’m going to be a grandfather. And I think you’ll make a wonderful mother no matter how this all plays out. I get that it’s painful right now, but is it okay if we just… be happy for a minute? No strings?”

My tears are hot, and I can’t keep my eyes open. I try to turn everything else off and, to my surprise… I do. For a glorious few minutes, I’m actually excited, and I can hear my dad’s happy tears over the phone and it seems, just for that short time, like I have a real, happy family.

By the time we hang up, I can’t believe how much better I feel. Yes, things are terrifying. Any day now I expect some kind of retribution from Jake or his father. Who knows when this story is going to blow up, or what people will say about it. But I have a baby on the way.

It finally hits me.

I’m going to be a mother.

I sit down at my computer, looking over the list of contacts that have received invites to the launch party. Most of them are form letters.

With shaky fingers, I add Jake Ferry to that list, and type out an email to him—professional, but warm. It’s merely an olive branch, that’s all. Not a promise. Not a request for clemency.

Just Simply an open hand. Hopefully that’s enough to get the ball rolling.

I
’ve managed
to go almost two full days without coming under Reginald’s scrutiny, and it hasn’t been easy. He hates it when I turn down his requests to go to this or that event—a strip club where he assures me the girls give head in the champagne room is the most recent invitation—but doing it gives me a high that I can’t get anywhere else.

It also distracts me from the near-constant anger that’s been boiling under my skin since I found out Janie was pregnant and didn’t even bother to send me a text about it. Then again, why would she after what I did?

It’s all so mixed up that I can’t easily separate my anger at her from my anger at myself, and the net result is that I’m furious with the whole goddamn world and there’s nothing I can do about it. I hit the gym, I drink, I defy Reginald just because it feels good to do it, I even leaked a rumor to a few blogs that Reginald and Toia might be on the verge of divorce from his infidelity. Getting a picture of him with another woman at a gentleman’s club wasn’t even difficult—I can’t believe it doesn’t get more media attention.

Reginald suspects I had something to do with it, but I have an alibi for that night and after all, it’s not like he doesn’t have enemies, right?

After he was done rampaging and screaming at Toia like she had anything to do with it, he brings in his team of PR people to sort it out and it becomes the focus of his life for what I hope will be a few precious days without any of his bullshit weighing me down.

And then I let myself fall into a depression. I drive past the beach house, and rent a place up the coast. It’s basically a shack, but I don’t care, and I start thinking about what life would be like if I just turned my back on the Ferry family fortune altogether and lived like a bum on the beach.

Except, whether she likes it or not I’m a father now. I have to start thinking about how I’m going to provide a life for my child. Janie may not want my help. She made it pretty clear she doesn’t give a fuck about my money, but I’m not going to let my kid grow up without a father.

So I crawl halfway out of that hole, and start making plans. I can move a little money here and there. Reginald expects me to spend, but once the money is out of an account all he knows is that I spent it somewhere. He can’t tell when I turn around and get cash reimbursements from some of my own contacts. I handle their transaction fees so they don’t get fucked in the deal, and bit by bit I start to build a nest egg. I can’t believe I didn’t do it sooner.

And then the email comes.

I’m at the beach still, sitting on the sand and wishing I could go back in time when my phone dings. I almost don’t check it, but I’ve got twenty grand out right now being effectively laundered for me so Reginald won’t know where it actually went, and I check the message.

At first glance, it looks like one of those email blasts, inviting everyone to come to the Red Hall Hot Sauce Launch Event this Saturday night, almost a week from now. Except it’s addressed to me personally, and there’s no CC or BCC. It’s from Janie’s personal email.

Dear Jake
, it reads.
I’d like to personally invite you to the Red Hall launch party this Saturday at 8 p.m. I realize there has been a great deal of tension between us lately, but I believe we can set that aside in light of such an important event
.

I stop reading for a moment. This isn’t an invitation to the launch party. Not really. One more face like mine won’t make a difference. My heart pounds, and the ache that’s been there for weeks now is suddenly acute again. I stare at the screen, not actually reading anymore, just wishing it said the things I most want her to say.

But I get it. The email is in code. There’s no telling whether I might forward it straight to the press, or if someone will intercept it. God knows I’ve worried my father has my email accounts hacked. If he did, he’d never say so—he’d just wait until the right moment, well after some critical intel comes across his lap. It could be years before I learn Reginald knew about my squirreling away money the whole time. There’s just no telling with that man.

If he is getting my emails, and if he does see this, it’ll tip him off that things are not going as smoothly between me and Janie as I’ve led him to believe. There’ll be consequences.

Then again, so what if there are?

I read over the rest of the email, but it’s more of the same and only confirms that what she’s really doing here is opening the door for me. And she’s doing it without my needing to introduce lawyers to the situation—which has crossed my mind.

That door is a chance for us. A chance for me to make all of this up to her. And I intend to take it.

For the first time in my life, I feel free.

I
t’s go time
.

I haven’t heard from Jake, but I can’t be worried about that right now. Saturday has come, and Red Hall is packed with high-profile guests and swarming with cameras. The bottles are in, the logo is brilliant, Lacey has outdone herself with a spread of globally inspired dishes incorporating each of the hot sauces into appetizers and entrees themed by the origins of the peppers used in them.

Before I even walk out into the lounge, my phone is blowing up with the buzz. I take a moment in my office, alone, to breathe and indulge myself in a moment of elation. Already, we’re doing nearly three times the business we did at our peak over two months ago. We’re on every foodie blog, we’re in the local paper, and we are, for the moment, the talk of the town.

“It’s finally happening,” I tell my baby, one hand resting on my stomach. “Whether your daddy comes around or not, we’ll have each other, and you’ll know what it’s like to see someone go after their dream and catch it.” How many times have I wished I’d had that myself? More than I can count or remember.

Right alongside the stories coming out about Red Hall are other, less impressive—I’m happy to say—stories about the recent scandal surrounding Reginald Ferry and his wife, Toia. Rumors that there could be a divorce, entirely unconfirmed. But it’s good for me, whether it’s true or not. The last thing I need is anyone in that family disrupting or undermining the launch.

They even put out a weird, hastily edited reality TV-style webisode following Toia around during her “typical” day that’s so ridiculously staged I can’t believe there’s not a cardboard set involved that just tips over when the wind blows. She goes on and on about how she and Reginald have a relationship that goes beyond just sex and physicality. They’re soul mates, and she knows that he’ll always come back to her at the end of the day.

She of course doesn’t mention how she isn’t allowed to have male company of her own, while Reginald can do pretty much whatever the fuck he wants. They call the series
Power Couples and Sidechicks
. It makes me want to throw up to see Reginald’s wife degrade herself like this, even though I’ve never met the woman and don’t plan to. Nonetheless, I can’t stop watching.

What a pathetic stunt. It’s sad that Toia had to be the butt of the joke, but I can’t help feeling like all of that is happening because Ferry Lights can’t maintain steady numbers. The place is impersonal because it’s just another Reginald Ferry project that he set up and then moved on from. It’s a cash grab, it’s inauthentic, and everyone knows it and can smell it a mile away.

That sort of publicity stunt is exactly what Gloria would have me pulling if she got her way, too.

Which is why I’ve decided to announce my pregnancy.

Which is why I’m still in my office, scared shitless instead of going out to the lounge where I need to be tonight.

The best thing I can do is act with integrity, and make sure that I’m ahead of the story—that I’m the one that gets to spark the narrative. Once it’s out there, there’s no reeling it back in. There are no second chances on something like this. But there are best-case scenarios and worst-case scenarios.

Gloria leaking the story is the worst-case scenario, and it’s practically inevitable. The only reason she’s played this game with me the past week or so is that she wants to be front and center for the launch party. After that, the media attention will dwindle, and she’ll start looking for some other way to cash in. Probably that way will be offering to sell it to Reginald Ferry because she’s right—he’d pay a fortune for the chance to spin the narrative of my pregnancy however he wants.

I’m not going to play these games. There is no way to play in which I don’t lose in the end.

A few more deep breaths. I can’t hide forever.

Confidence is not what I feel when I leave the office, but I do have determination and a simmering rage that Gloria helps stoke when she makes a big deal about greeting me as I come out. She even asks, loud enough for everyone within a few yards to hear, “There you are! Feeling okay?”

“I’m fine, Gloria,” I tell her, and try not to give away the punchline of the night by smiling. After this, the bitch is gone. I don’t care if her mother and mine become lesbian lovers—I am done with Gloria, and I’m even considering firing her publicly, tonight, in front of everyone.

All right, maybe those are the hormones talking.

But it would be satisfying.

I make my way through the thick crowd, accepting praise for the dishes, compliments for the chefs, and answering a few questions about how we chose the different peppers. I’m trying to be focused, and present, and attentive… but I can’t help looking for Jake. So far, I can’t see him.

Eventually, after the first wave of guests disperses, Gloria corners me. “So, I was thinking we could do the announcement of my new position around ten.”

“Why?” I ask, innocently.

“Why ten, or why the press release? Because you’re looking just a little extra chubby tonight, aren’t you? I wonder who else thinks so? I should ask—” She turns as if to wave down the nearest blogger she can identify.

I put a hand on her arm. “No need for that,” I tell her. “I’ll make the announcement at ten.”

“Good,” Gloria says. “I’ll keep an eye on the clock. You know, to make sure we stay on schedule. Would hate for you to miss your cue, right? I’ll announce you! Oh, that’s a good idea, don’t you think? Introducing the wonder Janie Hall! Don’t worry, folks, she’s just had an extra muffin or two before gracing us with her presence. Promise she’s not preggers!”

“Keep your voice down,” I snap, though my face says we’re just having a friendly conversation. “Make it simple. If this gets out because you slipped up announcing me, the deal is off and you’re out of a bargaining chip. Understand?”

Gloria waves my warning off as though I told her she needs to be careful to look both ways when crossing the street. “Calm down. I’m well aware of all that. Just don’t fuck me on this, Janie. Or… you know… I’ll fuck you.” She giggles. “But I guess I’ll be getting sloppy seconds.”

I cannot wait to spring my surprise.

I only wish Jake was here for it.

If he doesn’t show…

Well, that’ll be a sign, at least, of what’s to come. Confirmation that he doesn’t want to make nice, and that I’ve damaged that relationship—both of us have, I suppose—beyond repair.

And if I know Jake Ferry and his father, the next thing I’ll hear from either of them will be delivered by lawyers. A request for a DNA test, a protracted legal battle over custody… and if they won—which I can’t help but imagine they would, given that I can’t possibly match their resources or, hell, pay off a judge—Reginald at least would almost certainly push for child support. He’d get it. And I’d be ruined for good, both financially and publicly, because there would be cameras on me day and night, and all over the trial and…

Calm. Deep breaths.

Focus on now.

As I make my way through the crowd again, though, the thing that hurts the worst about all of that uncertain future is that there would be no Jake in it. Not with me, anyway.

And honestly, at this point, I can’t help feeling like that’s the worst-case scenario.