Enemies and Playmates (24 page)

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Authors: Darcia Helle

BOOK: Enemies and Playmates
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“I don’t want to hear this,” Lauren said. “I can’t.”
Lauren started to get up but Carrie grabbed her hand. “Wait,” she said. “It’s really important that you listen to the rest.”
“You don’t know him like I do,” Lauren said. “You’d never understand.”
“I’m pregnant,” Gina said.
Lauren sank back onto her chair. “His baby?”
Gina nodded. Tears flooded her eyes. “I thought he’d take care of me,” she said. “Of us.”
“You told him?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
Gina shrank back against her chair. She shook her head and stifled a sob. Carrie spoke for her. “He told her to get an abortion.”
“Is that what you want?” Lauren asked Gina.

“No.” Gina took a napkin and wiped her eyes. “He told me I had to do it because this baby would ruin everything. He was angry because it was my responsibility to keep from getting pregnant. I was on the pill. I didn’t mean for this to happen. But, still, I thought maybe he’d be happy. When I said I didn’t want an abortion, he called me a whore and said it was probably not even his kid.”

Lauren reached across the table and took Gina’s hands in hers. “I’m so sorry,” she said.
“I can’t go through with it.”
“Then don’t. You don’t have to.”
“But he told me I did. He’ll never speak to me again if I don’t do it.”
“It’s your baby and your body,” Lauren said. “Besides, he won’t be there for you, no matter what you decide.”
Gina nodded absently. Lauren couldn’t tell if Gina believed her or not. She said, “Are you afraid of him?”
Gina’s gaze dropped down to the daiquiri in front of her. She hadn’t touched it. “I never used to be,” she said.
“You are now?”
“Sort of.”
“Does he hit you?”

“He didn’t mean for it to happen,” Gina said. “I kept pushing him, whining about missing him. He got angry but it was just as much my fault. Really, it was an accident.”

“You can’t hit someone by accident,” Lauren said.
Gina twisted her napkin but said nothing. Lauren said, “He hits my mom all the time.”
Gina’s eyes widened. “He does?”
Lauren nodded. “Don’t trust him.”
Carrie said, “Why didn’t you ever tell us that before?”

Lauren shrugged. “It’s hard to explain,” she said. “I was brought up that way. It was a family secret and I was told never to tell. Things got worse as I got older. I was scared. And ashamed.”

“He really hits your mom?” Gina asked. “You mean, like slapping her now and then?”
“No,” Lauren said. “I mean he beats her. She covers the bruises with makeup. He broke her arm once.”
“Oh God,” Carrie muttered.
“I can’t believe he would do that,” Gina said.
“Yes you can,” Lauren said. “Because he’s come close with you lately. Right?”

Gina looked away and swiped at a new flood of tears. “What am I going to do?” she said. “If I don’t have the abortion, he’ll deny the baby is even his. He said he’ll tell people I’m a lying whore. And he’s a respected lawyer. He told me he knows how to work the system in his favor.”

“You can get a court order for DNA testing to prove the baby is his,” Lauren said. “He can’t change that. And you can’t worry about what he might say to people. You have to make a decision that’s right for you and this baby. Not him.”

“I’ve thought about adoption.”
“Don’t make any decisions yet,” Carrie said. “You need to give yourself a little time.”
Lauren squeezed Gina’s hand and said, “Whatever you decide, Carrie and I will help you through it.”

 

 

 

21

 

“I’m so nervous,” Lauren said.

Jesse reached across the car and took her hand. “You’ve got nothing to be nervous about,” he said. “It’s only my sister.”

Lauren gazed at the homes they passed by. She’d never been to this area of Western Massachusetts, yet there was something vaguely familiar about it. She said, “Looks like my neighborhood.”

“I know.”
“How much farther to your sister’s house?”
“Just down the street.”
“She lives in one of these?”
Jesse nodded. “Her husband does something with stocks and investment accounts. They’ve got no kids, lots of money.”

The familiar knot tightened in Lauren’s stomach. Why should she be this nervous? She was certainly used to being around people with money. She knew all the proper etiquette. It had been drilled into her since early childhood. She had no reason to feel out of place.

“Here we are,” Jesse said.

He turned his old Mustang down a long winding driveway that led to a two-story brick Tudor with an attached three-car garage. The landscaping was meticulous. Even in the dawn of winter, the lawn remained green with not one leaf out of place.

Jesse parked beside a white BMW roadster. He turned and assessed Lauren with a wry grin. “You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

As they walked along the cobblestone path to the front door, Jesse took Lauren’s hand in his. “I’m glad you’re here with me,” he said.

Lauren smiled at the sweetness of his words. But she wasn’t sure that she could agree. Her stomach was so tense that she was afraid to even smell food. She could picture herself spending the afternoon vomiting in his sister’s pristine bathroom. Wouldn’t that make a wonderful first impression?

Jesse rapped on the solid cherry door. Lauren realized that she was holding her breath as the door swung open. She forced herself to take slow breaths.

A tall, thin man stood in the foyer. His fine brown hair was cut short and held a hint of gray. He had a well-trimmed beard and wore wire-rimmed glasses. He smiled and held out his hand to Jesse. “Hello stranger,” he said. “Good to see you.”

Jesse reached out and grasped the man’s hand. “Hi Brian.”

Brian turned his attention to Lauren, his smile still in place. “You must be Lauren.”

Jesse introduced Lauren to his brother-in-law. They exchanged pleasantries as Brian led them into the formal living room. The room was spacious, filled with antique vases and French provincial furniture. A classical symphony piece that Lauren didn’t recognize played softly in the background. A faint scent of pumpkin pie caused a little flutter in Lauren’s stomach.

A couple stood by the marble fireplace sipping martinis. Brian introduced them as his brother Phillip and his wife Cassandra. Phillip looked much like his brother, though his eyeglass frames were silver titanium and his suit was a deeper brown. Cassandra matched him in height, which was probably about 5’10”. She had short blonde hair that looked natural and long, thin, perfect legs. She wore an elegant black fitted cocktail dress. A Donna Karan with a price tag of $2995. Lauren had lingered over it while searching for her own “perfect” outfit. The one she currently wore came from the discount rack of struggling designers.

As they exchanged greetings, Jesse’s sister drifted into the room carrying a silver tray full of appetizers. Lauren could have picked her out of a crowd. She and Jesse shared the same bronze complexion and large, dark eyes. She wore an ivory dress that enhanced her perfect skin and spoke volumes with its simplicity.

Jesse engulfed his sister in a hug and planted an affectionate kiss on her cheek. He turned, motioning to Lauren. “Monica, this is Lauren.”

The next few minutes passed in slow motion. They all sat amidst the antiques. Jesse and Monica caught up on family gossip. Lauren’s nerves continued to keep her on edge, though she did manage to stop herself from the horrible habit of picking at her nail polish. She considered that a minor victory.

“I’m sorry,” Brian said suddenly. “How utterly rude of me. I haven’t offered either of you a drink. Would you care for a martini?”

Jesse scrunched his face like he’d just sucked a sour lemon. Monica laughed. She said, “Jesse doesn’t drink martinis, Brian. But I’m sure he’ll have a rum and Coke.”

Brian smiled. “Of course. And you, Lauren?”

Jesse stood. “I’ll make her something.”

Dinner was an impeccably prepared, drawn-out event. Lauren managed to calm her butterflies enough to keep down her portions of the turkey and prime rib. Monica had a maid to clear the dishes, so they all retired to the den to await coffee and dessert.

The den, with its thick Berber carpet and overstuffed furniture, was infinitely more comfortable than the living room. As Lauren and Jesse got comfortable on one of the love seats, he grinned and winked at her. She couldn’t miss the mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

“So Jesse,” Phillip said, “Brian tells me that you left the police force.”
“That’s right,” Jesse said. “I’m a private investigator.”
Phillip removed a cigar from the humidor Brian held out. To Jesse he said, “That must be interesting work.”
“Can be,” Jesse said. “And you still play with other people’s money?”
Phillip grinned. “I do indeed.”
Brian offered Jesse a cigar. Jesse shook his head. “No thanks,” he said. “But Lauren might like one.”
Brian’s eyebrows drew together. He turned to Lauren and said, “He’s kidding, right?”
Lauren nodded. “I gave them up a month ago.”

Brian couldn’t have looked more stricken if Lauren had just confessed to a sex change operation. Jesse broke into laugher. “We’re kidding, Brian,” he said. “Relax.”

Monica snickered. “You’ll have to excuse Brian. He’s been quite wrapped up in his work lately. Sometimes he forgets to take time out for humor.”

“I’ve been under a lot of stress,” Brian said. “That damn Simmons account has me rattled.”
Phillip sighed, shook his head. “That’s a tremendous responsibility. Henry Simmons trusts very few people with his money.”
Monica patted Brian’s leg. “He’s been so uptight about this. You’d think it was our own money he was investing.”
“Well this entire account hinges on what I do with this one investment,” Brian explained.
Lauren and Jesse exchanged a glance. Jesse made a ridiculous face and Lauren had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.

The conversation continued along its dull path of self-involved grandiosity a few minutes longer. Then Brian turned to Jesse and said, “What have you been doing with yourself lately?”

“The usual,” Jesse said. “Hiding in bushes, eating at cheap diners, running through alleys, and getting my face smashed.”
Monica wrinkled her nose. “Can’t you find a better class of clients?”
“Hell, my clients are rich,” Jesse said. “That’s what I do for fun.”
“You’re incorrigible,” Monica said.

Jesse shrugged. “I can hardly aspire to match the caliber of the social class you consort with. And, of course, peasants such as me are merely allowed to peek in the windows of the establishments people such as yourself frequent.”

Monica rolled her eyes. “Oh please.”
Lauren repressed a giggle. She said, “What do you do for work, Monica?”
“I’m a consultant for a company that handles travel arrangements for the clients of large firms,” Monica said.
“Rich clients,” Jesse said. “And multi-million dollar companies.”
“Sounds like a fun career,” Lauren said.
“Jesse tells me that you’re attending college,” Monica said. “You plan to become a journalist?”
“That’s the plan,” Lauren said.

The maid brought two large polished silver trays. One held a coffee urn with six delicate china coffee cups. The other had an arrangement of fancy miniature desserts. She placed the trays on the beautiful etched wooden coffee table, then slipped quietly from the room.

As Monica served the coffee, Jesse’s cell phone blasted out the first few notes of an old AC/DC song. He checked the caller ID. “Mrs. Hartman,” he said. “A client.” Then he excused himself and stepped out into the hall.

“Doesn’t that bother you?” Monica asked Lauren.
“The business call?” Lauren said.
“Yes. And on a holiday, at that.”
“I don’t mind. That’s part of his job.”

Monica shook her head. “He could have had such a promising career as a lawyer. Yet he walked away from that and instead chose to become a police officer. I eventually adjusted to that stunning turnaround. He did so well with the force. He could have climbed the ranks in no time at all.”

“He wasn’t happy as a cop,” Lauren said. “And he’s got a great career now.”

“Monica worries about Jesse,” Brian said. He leaned in close, as if confiding a national secret. “He has a tendency toward a wild streak.”

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