Quick Fix (3 page)

I took the cue and began making retching sounds. Molly got a little agitated and started contributing. “Ooooo! Oooo! Aa-aa-
aaa
!” I patted her back and retched some more, upping the volume.

“I know I shouldn’t have come into the ladies’ room, but since there was no one else here, I thought—” Billy continued, louder himself.

“Oh, you poor man!” The woman’s voice thawed considerably. “Maybe I can help. I’m a retired nurse.”

“No!” Billy said. “No,
I’m sure they’ll be all right
in just a minute.”

I stopped fake heaving. “Molly’s feeling better, er, honey. I’m okay, too!”

“Well, if you’re quite sure—” the ex-nurse said.

“Oh, quite,” Billy said. “I’ll just get them some damp paper towels. We’ll be leaving soon.”

I peeked as he herded the women from the room. “Can you lock that?”

“Not without the key. Do you have a pen in your bag?” He didn’t wait for my answer, but dug right into the handsome leather bag I was carrying for my job. With the marker he found, and a paper towel from the dispenser by the sink, he devised an “Out of Order” sign that he stuck to the outside of the door with a hastily chewed piece of gum, also from my bag.

“My, how MacGyver of you,” I said. “But what do we do when the maintenance man shows up?”

“I hope we’ll be long gone by then.”

“And how are we going to leave with a baby ape?”

He looked at Molly, who was blissfully playing with her toes, showing no sign of changing back to herself. He shrugged and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. “Mark? I need a favor.”

*   *   *

Mark Fielding, the CIA agent who had fueled my girlish fantasies, was at the door to the restroom half an hour later, looking even better than the last time I saw him. Tall, blond, and chiseled, he never failed to make my hormones do a flip-flop. I felt like one of Pavlov’s dogs when he was around. If my recent inexplicable attraction to Billy surprised me, my response to Mark’s presence didn’t—he’d been ringing my bell since I was thirteen years old. I had hoped my lustful feelings toward Mark would tone down when they started ramping up toward Billy, but apparently that would be too simple for my life.

Mark sized up the situation with a single glance around the room, zeroing in on Molly. “How the hell did you manage to do
that
?” he said, as close to shocked as I’d ever seen him. Billy had warned him over the phone that Molly wasn’t quite herself, but hadn’t elaborated.

I assumed the question was directed at me. Those kind of questions usually were. “I didn’t do anything, I swear. It just … happened.”

Billy nodded his confirmation, his eyes lacking their usual teasing glint.

Mark asked no further questions. “Wait here,” he said, and left.

He returned in less than a minute with a baby stroller, the folding kind equipped with a nice big sunshade. When I asked how he’d come by one so fast, he just shrugged and said there were plenty of them parked outside the Great Ape House, and that it might be a good idea if we hustled our butts. He and Billy guarded the door while I buckled Molly in and told her to keep quiet.

“Do you think she understands you?” Mark said as I adjusted the shade to provide maximum coverage. He hadn’t commented much on the odd state of affairs, but I knew his brain had to be spinning. Adaptors were only able to project
human
auras. At least, that’s how it was supposed to be.

I shrugged. “Beats me. I’m going to assume Molly is still Molly on the inside, just like with a regular adaption.”

Billy grabbed his makeshift sign off the door and tossed it into the closest trash can. “Come on—let’s get out of here. We can figure out what to do after we’re back at Ciel’s.” He took charge of the stroller, maneuvering it through the foot traffic while Mark and I positioned ourselves on either side of him.

“Whoa, bud. Blend,” Mark said. I think his lips moved a tiny bit, but I wouldn’t swear to it.

Billy slowed, barely, but I still had to step double time to make my short legs keep up with their long ones. “Where are you parked?” he asked Mark.

“Veer off at the next left. There’s an employee lot back there. I borrowed a spot.”

Billy took the curve too fast and nearly plowed into a zoo employee. He pulled up just in time. A middle-aged woman wearing a red polo shirt with a zoo logo on it blocked our way with her hugely pregnant belly; there was no maneuvering around her. Billy stared, deer-caught-in-the-headlights fashion, while the woman leaned down to coo at Molly.

“Awww … a baby!”

Mark, bless him, tried to distract her with one of his rare smiles—they were killer when he chose to bestow them—but she wasn’t to be deflected. I’d seen women in the grip of baby fever before, and this one obviously had nothing else on her mind. She wanted a baby fix, and no mere man, however good-looking, was going to stand in her way. Leaning down as much as her tummy allowed, she peeked under the shade and smiled beatifically.

“She’s sleeping. How sweet. And look at that red hair!”

Huh? Why wasn’t she freaking out? I leaned over and looked with her. Molly, brilliant little Molly, had pulled the pink flannel baby blanket up over her face. Only a few tufts of orange fur stuck out on top.

“Do you mind if I…?” Ms. Zoo Employee stretched her pregnancy-puffed fingers toward the edge of the blanket.

Mark, Billy, and I all reached for her at the same time. I was the closest, and intercepted her hand before she could unwrap the surprise package. “Uh,” I said. “Better not. She, um, gets sunburned so easily. You know how it is with redheads.”

The woman gave me a patronizing look and squeezed my hand. “Your first? Don’t worry, honey, they’re tougher than you think. You don’t have to treat them with kid gloves.”

“I-I-uh, I know that. I just…” Just what? What?
Think, Ciel.

She placed my hand on her belly and pressed down until something kicked me. I resisted the urge to yank it back as visions of that scene from
Alien
skittered through my head.

“There, honey, you feel that? That’s my fourth. He’ll be lucky if I remember to change his diapers and feed him, much less worry about a little sunburn. You better learn to relax if you want to survive motherhood.”

I nodded weakly, my eyes darting between Mark and Billy. Mark was calm, smiling at me indulgently and shrugging, playing the part of agreeing with the woman. Billy smiled, too, but it was strained, impatience undulating beneath the surface.

“Which one of you is the proud papa?”

The guys looked at me, waiting for my cue. My mouth opened but no words came out. Why did everything have to come down to a choice between Mark and Billy? Evidently I waited too long, because they both took it upon themselves to speak for me at the exact same time: “I am.”

My face flamed. Geez.

She gave me an appraising look, changing her previous assessment of me in the time it took her to purse her lips. “Like that, is it? Well, I have to say, it’s quite progressive of you all to handle it so civilly.” In other words,
you slut
.

“You don’t understand,” I hastened to explain. “I never … not with either of them. Really. I mean…” Oh, hell. What did I mean?

“She’s our surrogate,” Billy blurted when he saw her hand creeping back toward the blanket.

Mark’s eyes gave nothing away as he caught on and entered into the distraction by putting an arm around Billy’s shoulders and giving him an affectionate squeeze. “Yes, she carried our little girl for us. It’s an open adoption—we want her to remain part of our child’s life.”

The woman dragged her eyes away from the stroller and looked from Mark to Billy, her eyes lighting with curiosity. “Oh, I see. Well, I think that’s just wonderful,” she said, beaming now that she knew I was a paragon of modern family values and not just sleeping with two hot guys. “Did you blend the semen before insemination so both fathers would feel equally invested?”

My mouth opened but no words came out.

“Don’t look so shocked, honey. It’s a common practice. Some people think it promotes better bonding with the infant. And I’m not just being nosy, either—I work at a zoo. I have a scientific interest in these things.”

Ack
. How do you answer that kind of question? “Um, no. No blending. I didn’t blend”—
eew
—“anything. Right, guys?”

“Right,” they both said, nodding in unison.

“No?” the woman said, sounding disappointed. “Then who’s the bio dad? Wait, don’t tell me. Let me see if I can tell which one she favors.” She snatched the blanket from Molly’s face.

I cringed, bracing for the inevitable.

“What the hell?” she boomed. She skewered us each in turn with a look that made me wish I were wearing adult diapers. If eyes were Tasers, we’d all be flopping on the ground. She dug into her skirt pocket—not easy, considering how tight it was—and came out with a security whistle, which she started blowing like there was no tomorrow.

Molly didn’t care for the sound. Her long, nimble fingers unlatched the stroller’s safety belt. In a blink she was knuckle-running off the path toward the nearest tree, oversize shorts and T-shirt flapping around her.

“Molly! No!” Billy took off after her. With an apologetic shrug at me, Mark followed, leaving me to deal with a hormonally supercharged woman twice my size. She turned to go after them but must have thought better of it. I was the easier target.

I backed away from her slowly.

“Oh, no you don’t,” she grunted after spitting out the whistle, and came at me, arms wide and ready to grab.

I quickened my pace, stumbling backward, afraid to take my eyes off her for the second it would take to turn around. She sped up. My heel connected with something slippery, and I went down, legs splayed in front of me.

I felt a razor-stubbled ankle connect with mine. Heard a
thwump
as she hit the ground next to me. Wondered fleetingly and, okay, inappropriately, how the heck she’d managed to reach past that belly to shave her legs … and then felt a little sick.

Oh God, oh God, oh God.
I had just tripped a hugely pregnant woman. Not on purpose, but still. Does it get any lower than that?

Wincing, I opened one eye to assess the damage, halfway expecting to see the baby shooting out from beneath her skirt. But, no, she’d landed on her amply padded derriere and was doing her spitting-angry best to haul herself back to a standing position, so I supposed she couldn’t have been too badly hurt.

I shook myself off and hightailed it after Molly and the guys, shoving the stroller ahead of me. Billy jumped off an oak with Molly wrapped around his neck as I caught up to them.

Mark was there at the base of the tree. “Is she okay?” he asked, glancing back at the zoo employee, who’d almost made it to her feet.

“Looks like it to me,” I said. “Uh-oh—she has her phone out. She’s calling for backup!”

Billy dumped Molly into the stroller and draped the blanket back over her, telling her to hold on tight. Mark took the lead, keeping us safely out of sight of other zoo employees until we got to his car, a Ford Shelby GT500. He changed cars like other people changed underwear, never wanting to be pinned to a particular make and model.

It was a cool car, but it didn’t have much in the way of a backseat. It would have to do—Billy and Molly had come on the Metro and I’d taken a cab as my client, so we didn’t really have a choice as far as transportation went. “Geez, are we all going to fit?” I asked, drumming my fingers on the car top while Billy picked up Molly and Mark shoved the stolen stroller behind a handy Dumpster.

“We’ll fit. Get in the back with Molly—your legs are short enough. Billy, you’re shotgun.”

I might have taken umbrage at his remark about my legs, but he was right. Very few backseats are a tight squeeze for me. On the plus side, I can wear six-inch platform stilettos without intimidating men of average height. Not that I do—comfortable feet are too important to me—but I
could
if I wanted to.

Billy handed me his sister. Molly in baby orangutan form was too small for an adult seat belt, but what choice did I have? I adjusted her shoulder strap as well as I could, but she obviously wasn’t comfortable with it and began squirming as soon as the car started.

“Everything okay back there?” Mark asked as he backed out of the space.

“They’re fine. Let’s go,” Billy answered for me. Huh. Easy for him to say. He wasn’t the one trying to keep his sister’s busy fingers off the seat belt buckle.

“Just hurry and get us home. I don’t know how long I can keep her quiet back here,” I said.

“Not a problem.” Mark turned out of the lot and slipped into traffic with ease, cutting from lane to lane, picking up speed with each maneuver. He seemed to have a sixth sense about when the lights were going to change and always managed to be in the right spot at the right time.

It didn’t take Molly long to get out of the seat belt, in spite of my effort to keep her contained, so I decided holding her would be my best option. Only she decided
not
being held was
her
best option, and baby orangutans are remarkably slippery. She was out of my arms and climbing onto Billy before I could shout a warning.

“Hey!” Billy grabbed her and tried to pull her off. She held tight to his hair with one foot and bongoed his head with both long-fingered hands, sounds of distress spilling from her.

I tried my best to disengage her. That only agitated her more. She launched herself from Billy onto Mark, planting herself in his lap. Mark gripped the steering wheel and bore down on the accelerator, grim determination molding his features. Billy tried to pry her off him, but she grabbed the wheel.

And found the horn.

“Crap,” I said. “Molly, stop that!”

“She doesn’t understand you,” Billy said. “Molly, cut that out!”

“Oh, and she understands you?” I blew my hair out of my face and cut him a look.

“We’re almost there.” How Mark stayed calm with an ape bouncing up and down on his lap as he negotiated the streets of D.C. was beyond me, but I imagine the CIA trains you to keep your cool in unexpected situations.