Meant for Me (18 page)
I have to get home and regroup. Try to figure this out with everyone’s help. We can split up and cover more ground. She has to be around here somewhere. She wouldn’t leave the area, no matter how much she hates my guts right now. She wouldn’t disobey Dr. P.’s orders.
Then my phone rings, displaying a familiar number I usually take great pains to avoid, and I feel like I’m going to throw up.
The holiday season was supposed to lift the
Gazette
out of the red and into the black. But it seems like these cheapskate mom-and-pop stores are actually cutting their advertising budgets instead of increasing them. If I hear one more person tell me to check back with them after New Year’s, I’m going to scream. Don’t they know that the fourth quarter is when people do most of their spending? Forget about next year. There won’t be a next year.
I slam the phone back onto its cradle and stare stonily at the snow rattling the windowpane. I have to get out of this godforsaken town and join my uncle in L.A. Enough is enough. Who am I kidding? Eric’s little bun in the oven is safe and warm inside Ivy’s big ol’ belly. She nearly miscarried twice in my presence, but that speck of a tadpole is still hanging on. I haven’t been pestering her about returning to work on the script because Eric would probably have me brought up on involuntary manslaughter charges for trying to kill a fetus. He looked insane when he came after me in his driveway. Who knows what he’s capable of at this point?
But it’s already been a week since our last showdown. I should really start putting the pressure back on. I told Ivy I wanted this screenplay completed before the end of the year, and so far she has nothing to show me. Will better get his ass in gear too. I’m not fooling around about this. I’m taking this project seriously, and so should they. I’ve already put some feelers out. The interest is definitely there and I intend to capitalize on it.
I drain the last of the herbal tea out of my mug and slide it to the edge of the desk with the others. That new intern really has to do a better job of clearing them off and placing them in the dishwasher. She’s definitely not as good as Ivy was in that department. Every morning I’d come in to a neat and organized desk after walking away from a clusterfuck the night before. I never had to clean up after myself, so why start now? That’s what maids—or college bimbos—are for.
I still have Eric’s number on speed dial. All I’d have to do is push one little button and I’ll hear his voice. He probably won’t put Ivy on the phone, but it’s worth a try. I really don’t have anything to lose if he hangs up on me. Besides, I’m curious to know how he’s dealing with the whole Cassidy bombshell. Was it convincing enough to sew a seed of doubt in his mind? I surely hope so.
My fingernail is hovering over the button, when my intercom buzzes. Ugh, what now?
“Yes?” I say briskly.
“Ms. Price, you have a call on line one.”
I’m going to strangle this new intern. No wonder I can’t even bother to remember her name.
“Who is it?” I snap.
“Ivy Thompson,” she replies hurriedly. “I’m sorry, Miss Price. I know you already spoke to me about—”
But I don’t even listen, cutting her off by punching line one. Excuses, excuses—always excuses. But I got the catch I was looking for—albeit unexpectedly—and now I intend to reel it in.
“Ivy, dear. How are you?” The false sincerity is literally dripping off my tongue.
“Lauren, let me cut to the chase and save us both a lot of trouble.” Her aggressiveness assaults my ear. It’s so not like her. “I’m ready to write the script you want, but you’re going to have to do something for me in return.”
“Ivy, you’re in no position to—” I start in on her.
“Let me finish,” she interrupts, and I see red. “I’ll write whatever you tell me to about Cassidy, but I’m going to need a place to stay and a car and some money for living expenses. And I need someone to pick me up outside the Valu-Mart in the next fifteen minutes or the deal’s off.”
“Running away, are we?” I mock her.
“It’s none of your concern. Do you want me to write it or not?” She sounds nervous. “I don’t have time to play games with you. It has to happen now.”
“Hold on,” I say, placing her on hold before she can respond.
Thinking quickly, I hit another button, strumming my fingers on the desktop.
“Ryan, where are you?” I snarl into the receiver as soon as he picks up.
“They’re letting us out of school early because of the snow. I just got in my Jeep. Why?” he responds, and I can tell he’s not in the greatest of moods.
“I have an errand I need you to run. It’s important and it has to be done now,” I command, waiting for the inevitable blowback.
“Lauren, I really don’t feel like driving all over town in this shit,” he complains.
“I think you will when you find out who’s waiting for you,” I reply, tempting him.
He breathes heavily on the other end. “Who?”
“It’s Ivy. She needs you to pick her up in the parking lot of the Valu-Mart, but she says you have to hurry. She has to be out of there within the next ten minutes or so. Can you do it?” I ask, watching the clock.
“And where am I supposed to take her?” he asks, already revving his engine.
“I don’t know. I’ll call you back when I figure it out. Just go get her,” I implore.
“I’m on it,” he says, hanging up before I can say goodbye.
I lean forward in my chair and hit the hold button.
“Ivy, are you still there?” I ask, hoping I didn’t dilly-dally too long with Ryan.
“Yes,” she says anxiously. “So do we have a deal?”
“We do, and I’m going to hold you to it. You’re not bailing out of this. I don’t care if Eric comes begging and crawling on his knees. I’m going to have my lawyer draw up the necessary documents and you will agree in writing that you will complete this project the way I want it done. Are we clear on that?” I press the phone against my chin.
“We’re clear,” she responds, her voice clipped.
“Good, because you’re not wiggling your way out of this,” I warn, relishing this stroke of luck. “You can’t walk away from me this time. I own your ass.”
I hear her gulp, but she doesn’t fight it. “I’ll sign whatever you need. You have my word.”
“Someone’s on their way to get you, so just sit tight. It won’t be long. Stay on the line until they get there,” I order, remembering how good it feels to boss her around.
“How will I know who they are?” she asks, confused.
“Oh, you’ll know.” I smile, wishing I could be there to witness the look on her face when she sees who it is.
“Where are you taking me?” There is a slight tremor in her voice.
“I haven’t decided yet.” It’s going to be fun having this much power over her.
“I can’t leave the area, Lauren. I have to make my weekly doctor’s appointment. That’s non-negotiable.” Already she’s throwing a monkey wrench in my plans. She’s going to have to learn how to obey.
“I’ll see what I can do,” I reply, stringing her along.
“That’s not acceptable. You either agree or—” She stops abruptly. She’s getting all worked up over nothing. I wasn’t planning on transporting her out of town. I’m just not sure where I’m going to put her yet.
“All right, fine. I agree,” I groan. When she doesn’t say anything, I start to get annoyed. “What is it?”
“You sent Ryan?” she asks, her voice trembling.
Not this drama again. This girl needs to get a hold of herself. She claims Ryan attacked her the night of the gala, but I don’t buy it. Ryan told me what really happened when he came back to the theater, beaten to a pulp thanks to Eric. He related how she’d led him on for years and then tried to seduce him on the way to the film festival. I was so mad I could barely see straight. Ryan said that Ivy told Eric that he’d tried to rape her, and Eric went ballistic. I was livid that Ivy’s vicious lie was enough to convince Eric to defend her. I knew Ryan was just coming off of a bad break-up and that it was in no way connected to his supposed feelings for Ivy. I did spot a pair of women’s panties in the inside pocket of his jacket when I was cleaning him up, but I decided to ignore them, thinking it was probably another one of his fetishes that I’d rather not know about. If he wants to wear girly underwear, that’s his business.
I thought Ivy might provide a good smokescreen for him while she was at the
Gazette
, but no such luck. At least not once she got involved with Eric. I tried to dangle Ryan in front of her like a piece of forbidden fruit, but she didn’t bite. She couldn’t even play the role of Ryan’s beard properly. She is so clueless sometimes. I mean, it wouldn’t have been hard. He’s a good-looking kid. He got her the internship. It was the least she could do to pay him back and show some appreciation. But no, she had to screw the two of us over and get knocked up by the only guy in town worth a second look.
But now she’s going to pay. She’s going to earn her keep—and like it. So what if I sent Ryan to pick her up? She should be kissing my feet that I got someone there that fast. What does she think I am—a freaking taxicab company? She’d better wise up. I’m the one running the show from now on, not her.
“Just get in the damn Jeep, Ivy,” I reply without an ounce of pity.
“Send someone else,” she pleads, practically begging.
“There isn’t time. You’re either doing this or you’re not. I can’t stay on the phone all day waiting for you to decide. Are you in or are you out?” I sling the ultimatum at her, forcing her hand.
“I’m in,” she says as I hear a car door slam.
“Excellent.” I finally have her right where I want her. I almost can’t believe it. I never in a million years expected this twist of fate. I’m only glad I was at my desk when this golden opportunity fell into my lap. And to think I was ready to pack it up and head to L.A. Who says life doesn’t give second chances?
“Ivy, tell Ryan—” But I don’t get to finish, as the call disconnects. Ah, no bother. Ryan will take care of it from here.
Now I just have to figure out where I’m going to put her.
I can’t believe I’m actually going through with this, but what choice do I have?
Ryan peers at me, flicking the ashes of his cigarette out the window. Every instinct in my body is telling me to run in the opposite direction. So what am I doing? I’m walking toward him. Typical me.
But I can’t go home with Eric. Not after that crazy marriage proposal. I don’t feel comfortable sharing the same roof with him, never mind the same bed. He expected me to choose between him and the baby. Either or. Like I can’t have both. As if he’s the only one who gets to decide whether or not this baby lives or dies. He thinks he can play God. But he’s forgetting one very important thing. I get a say too.
He’s always been an all-or-nothing kind of guy, but this is taking things a little too far. I know what happened with Cassidy is distorting his perspective, but I’m not about to have him railroad me into getting an abortion just to give him some peace of mind. Who says anyone’s life is guaranteed? I could wake up tomorrow and get hit by a bus. He can’t protect me from destiny. No one can, and he’s foolish to try. Didn’t he learn anything from Cassidy’s death? He can’t control what happens to me, and if he’s not going to be with me on this, then he’s against me. There’s no other way to put it. I’m not backing down. This baby needs me. And if I have to raise it as a single mother, then so be it. At least it’ll be alive.
Tramping carefully through the snow, I stick my phone back in my purse. Hanging up on Lauren probably wasn’t the smartest move, but that was such an insensitive gesture sending Ryan. I mean, really? I know she wants to gloat and rub it in that I came crawling back to her, but I haven’t seen Ryan since the night of the gala. And I feel nauseous just looking at him. The last thing I want to do is get inside his Jeep, back to the scene of the crime.
I don’t like playing the victim, but I’m placing myself in a very perilous position. Girls around the world are no doubt screaming at me to turn around and wait for Eric. It is the more sensible option, but he really hurt me just now. I need some space. I need to give him time to come to his senses. Let him see how much he misses me and how he forced me onto this more treacherous path. Sure, I want him to feel guilty and grovel at my feet. He needs a rude awakening in order to see things clearly and understand just how much he has to lose. I’m not a piece of property. I’m practically his wife, and he has to take me seriously. We’re either going to be equals in this partnership or we’re not going to get married at all. I’m not entering into such a profound commitment unless he’s willing to meet me halfway. It doesn’t bode well if we can’t even compromise at the very beginning. How can he expect me to journey through life with him if he’s going to insist on always taking the easy way out when he’s scared?
I’m at the side of the Jeep, but I jump back when Ryan leans over the seat to unlock the door. His sudden movement reminds me too much of that night. When he forced himself on top of me. I shudder and not from the snow blowing in my face. I open the door and get it before I can change my mind. Everything about this feels wrong, but I’m out of options. Like I could really go home to the projects and live with my alcoholic mother? I don’t think so. Anything’s better than that.
“Ivy,” Ryan says curtly, hitting the gas as we drive by Eric’s truck. I feel like I’m going to cry as I watch it slip out of view and get swallowed by the storm.
“Ryan,” I mutter just as dispassionately. “Where are we going?”
“I’m waiting to find out.” He doesn’t put his cigarette out and a nasty draft is coming in through his window. Already he has two strikes against him. He really knows how to make a pregnant woman feel comfortable. But when has he ever put someone else’s needs ahead of his own?
“So we’re just going to drive around in a snowstorm? That’s smart. This piece of junk can barely hold the road on a summer day. We’re probably going to end up in a ditch somewhere.” I’m in a foul mood and I don’t care if it shows. I’m not going out of my way to be pleasant to him. He doesn’t deserve it.
“You didn’t seem to care what I drove before.” He curses, swerving to avoid a runaway shopping cart from plowing into us.
“I have a baby to think about now. And if I recall, you’re not exactly the safest driver in the world,” I retort.
I think I’ve been with him through two fender benders and five speeding tickets, but he’s still on the road. Must be nice to have Daddy pay for every mistake. His car insurance rate must be through the roof. Just wait until he gets picked up for driving under the influence. It’s only a matter of time. I’d love to see how his father is going to get him out of that, being underage and all.
“Well that lasted long,” he says, blowing a puff of smoke in my face.
“What did?” I cough, waving my hand to clear the air.
“Your happily ever after,” he sneers. “What, did your farmer prince turn into a steaming turd?”
“Shut the fuck up, Ry,” I lash out at him. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, so don’t even go there.”
“Wow, you’re right back where you started,” he drones on. “But now you’re knocked up and homeless. I’ve known you almost all my life, and I never thought you’d turn into your mother.”
“I’m nothing like my mother!” I shout back.
“Oh yeah? You dropped out college with a year to go. You have no job, no money. Sure, you’re not a total alcoholic, not yet. But your prospects aren’t very promising. You kicked your baby daddy to the curb for whatever reason and now you’re back asking my stepsister for another handout. You’re the definition of a strong, independent woman,” he laughs, tossing his cigarette butt and rolling up the window. “There, is that better?”
I ignore his small concession and remain quiet. What if I am like my mother? If I didn’t go out drinking with Sophie, maybe this baby would be okay. I feel a small twinge in my stomach. Oh no! I can’t get all excited. I was doing so well all week. No spotting. No cramping. I take some deep breaths to steady by heart rate.
“Yep, you’re still the same ungrateful bitch,” he mutters.
I bite my tongue and try to focus on good thoughts.
“Just think, if we did have sex that night, that baby could’ve been mine,” he gloats.
I grip my knees with my hands and close my eyes.
“Oh, c’mon. Are you really gonna act like that? You turned me down, remember? If anyone has a right to be pissed, it’s me,” he says, pointing his thumb at his chest.
“Your friend, Ben, doesn’t seem to think so.” I steel myself against the seat as soon as the words are out of my mouth.
He hits the brakes involuntarily and we skid on a patch of ice. Luckily, there’s no one in front of us. But it didn’t take much to prove that my assumption is right on target.
“What the fuck does he have to do with anything?” he leers at me.
“Quite a lot, I’d say.” I strive to sound disinterested, even though I know I’m playing with fire.
“Ben is a fucking pussy. That’s what he is. And anyone associated with him is a fucking loser.” He spews his venomous insults like he’s shooting a machine gun, one right after the other.
“Hmm, looks like I hit a nerve,” I chuckle, bracing myself against the door handle. I’m on hazardous ground, and there’s no telling how he’s going to react.
“You think you’re so smart, don’t you? You don’t know shit about me and Ben!” he rages on.
“So there is a ‘you and Ben’? Interesting.” This is almost fun.
He drives the Jeep over a snow bank and against a curb. “Not another word. Do you hear me?” His voice is so low. It scares me. He’s leaning over me again and I don’t like it. I’m just about to get out of the Jeep when his phone rings.
“Yeah?” he growls, answering it.
I sit up in my seat as he draws back, straining to hear the other side of the conversation. That was close, but if we have to stay in this Jeep much longer, I don’t think he’s going to be able to control his temper. I know how he is.
“You want me to take her where?” he asks, wrinkling his brow.
Oh great, this sounds promising.
“Lauren, are you sure?” he questions her, shaking his head.
What evil plan has the wicked witch cooked up now?
“All right, but I think you’re crazy,” he needles her. “Yes, she can hear me. So what?”
So Lauren doesn’t like me seeing the discord in their ranks. Why am I not surprised?
“You owe me big time for this because I don’t want to go anywhere near that place,” he seethes, his eyes narrowing.
Oh God, where is he taking me?
“Fine, I’ll call you when it’s done,” he scowls. “Bye.”
The tires squeal as they turn helplessly against the snow, striving for any type of traction. That’s it. If he has to get out and push, I’m stealing his Jeep and leaving him here. It’d serve him right.
But somehow he gets it moving again and heads out into the countryside. I glance worriedly as the familiar landmarks start to get fewer and fewer and we enter into a territory I’ve never been before. The Jeep is chugging hard through the snow, since these back roads aren’t cindered or plowed. The only thing saving us is the four-wheel drive. Despite our unknown destination, I cross my fingers, hoping we make it because we’re miles away from any kind of assistance out here.
Soon, a clapboard house comes into view. It’s small but in good repair. It’s old, but it has a cozy feel to it, like it’s been lived in for generations. It’s definitely giving off a homey vibe. So why is Ryan so irritated? Can the person who lives here really be that bad? Visions of the gingerbread house that ensnared Hansel and Gretel float through my mind as I swallow the lump in my throat.
The porch light is on like someone’s expecting us, and the snow has been swept off the steps. It’s not exactly rolling out the welcome mat, but whoever it is at least is making an effort to be hospitable.
“All right, get out,” Ryan barks, gesturing toward the house.
“What you’re not coming with me?” I ask, suddenly not wanting him to leave.
“This is the end of the line for me, babe. I’m not going anywhere near that place.” He holds up his hand like he’s wardening off some type of voodoo curse.
“Well, thanks for going out of your way to reassure me of your stepsister’s wacky intentions. What the heck I am supposed to say when they open the door? Do they even know who I am and what I’m doing here?” I stall, trying to buy some time.
“It’s all taken care of,” he remarks offhandedly, but I don’t feel reassured.
“I don’t have any of my clothes or even a toothbrush with me—” I entreat him, but he’s prepared for this.
“Lauren’s got it under control. She’ll be sending over what you need, including a laptop so you can get to work. That’s why you’re here, right? To work?” His stare gives me the creeps, like I’ve sold my soul to the devil and now I’m Lauren’s slave for life.
“Awesome,” I deadpan, lowering one foot out of the Jeep and into the blistering snow.
Ryan doesn’t wish me goodbye or good luck or anything to send me on my way. So I slam the door and hustle onto the porch. I don’t even get a chance to knock as the front door opens, and I rush inside to get out of the wind.
I’m still trying to catch my breath as the roar of the storm fades into the background. There’s a fire blazing in the hearth, and two cups of cocoa are situated on a tray next to an oversized recliner. The TV is on and a cat is stretched lengthwise on top of the couch. The whole scene screams comfort and joy.
I wheel around, lowering my scarf, and find myself face to face with an absolute stud. I openly gape at him, not quite believing what I’m seeing. I was expecting an ax murderer and instead I’m gazing at an Adonis.
“You must be Ivy,” he smiles at me. “I guess we’re going to be roommates for a while. Let me take your coat so you can warm up by the fire.”
I automatically obey him without thinking twice. I hand him my wet things robotically, as if in a trance. He looks at me with compassion, and his eyes remind me of someone, but my brain is too jumbled to make the connection.
“Do I know you?” I ask, trying to place him in my mind but failing miserably.
“I don’t think so,” he chuckles.
“But you look so familiar,” I mutter, drinking him in.
“A lot of people tell me I resemble my brother, so that’s probably why,” he remarks, shrugging his broad shoulders.
“Who’s your brother?” I ask as he offers me his arm as I start to wobble a little while removing my boots.
“Steady there,” he says, his voice deep and warm. “I don’t want a pregnant lady falling under my roof.”
“You seem to know everything there is to know about me, but you still didn’t answer my question.” I glance up at him, trying not to focus on the fact that my hand is wrapped around his bicep.
“Well, being the unemployed older brother of the star quarterback isn’t something I like to brag about,” he admits, staring down at me.
“Wait a minute. Your brother is—?” I stutter, realizing the full awkwardness of the situation Lauren has placed me in.
“Ben,” he replies, gauging my reaction. “I’m Tim, the leading man of the screenplay you’re about to write. Pleased to meet you, Ivy Thompson.”