Being Their Baby (4 page)

Sophie blanched. She had nowhere else to go if not here. It didn’t look like much, but it was better than under a bridge out in the freezing cold! “But—”

Elizabeth suddenly grabbed her arm again, spun her around, and started to
swat
her—
hard
. “I-said-move-it!” When Sophie was released after five good spanks, her bottom actually stung under her jeans. She smooshed the palms of her hands against her back pockets protectively when Elizabeth released her. Sophie’s mouth hung open with protest and surprise, but she couldn’t keep eye contact with Elizabeth, whose eyes were glinting with anger before she turned heel and marched out the door. “Ten minutes, Sophia!” she called out before she’d slammed the door behind her.

Sophie shook slightly, unable to keep the shudder of emotion inside, but then she took a deep breath and grabbed a big, black trash bag and began to stuff her things inside of it. Sophie was beginning to wonder how she moved everyone she’d ever met to violence
.

Nobody else was in the office building, so when she heard the printing machine work when she got downstairs, she knew it was Elizabeth. She tried to sneak past the copy room, hopeful that she could make it outside, catch a bus, and go far away.

Nothing ever worked out to plan, however. “Don’t move another inch, Sophia!” Elizabeth snapped from inside the room when Sophie tried to quietly creep by.

Sophie rolled her eyes; this woman had eyes in the back of her head! Sophie took a deep breath, hoping that the oxygen would give her the calmness she needed to stay put and not sprint toward the nearest exit.

When Elizabeth walked out of the printing room, shuffling a stack of papers in her hand, she eyed Sophie’s full, black trash bag with disgust. “Is that it?”

Sophie nodded.

“Where’s your coat?” she demanded.

Sophie looked at the floor. “Long story…”

Liz passed her the stack of papers, and Sophie dropped her bag to keep the pages from flying everywhere. “Trade you,” Elizabeth said, and took possession of Sophie’s trash bag before Sophie could voice a protest. Elizabeth led the way out of the building, hauling the bag as if it didn’t weigh anything. Gosh, this woman was so in
shape
! Sophie figured that if Elizabeth hadn’t spent the morning terrorizing her, she’d be swooning right about now.

Instead, she was merely worried about what Elizabeth’s plans were with her things. “Um…” Sophie scurried behind her. “Miss Button? Where are you going with my stuff?”

“The question is: where are
you
going?” she corrected as Sophie followed her out to her car.

Sophie winced; that didn’t sound promising. “Where… ?”

She watched Elizabeth throw her stuff unceremoniously into the trunk of the Lexus and slam it shut again. “Get in the car,” Elizabeth demanded.

It was maybe ten degrees outside but Sophie realized she was sweating when she rushed into the front seat of the car again. “Where are we going?” she finally asked once they pulled out of the parking lot, pulling her seatbelt slowly across her chest.

“You are going to my house, where you’ll be staying until
I
see fit,” Elizabeth informed her.

While Sophie was digesting this, Elizabeth continued, “Sophie, I told you
two years ago
that when you needed help, you needed to tell me. I’ve repeated the offer so many times that us having this conversation is now officially ridiculous!”

Sophie found herself feeling guilty, which was a little unfair. After all, Elizabeth’s offer of help was always just an empty sentiment. Elizabeth’s life wasn’t Sophie’s to screw up, after all. “I don’t need help! I’m fine!”

Elizabeth slammed her palm down on the steering wheel. “You tried to sell yourself into prostitution last night!”

She squinted and crossed her arms, defensive. “What? Is being poor a crime, now?”

Elizabeth turned her head and gave her a look that made Sophie wonder if she was sane to really be using an attitude. She cooled it down and said, “I needed the money, and it’s not like I have anything
else
to sell. People say that you can get amazing money for having a guy pay to pop your cherry.”

“You can also get a good case of AIDS,” she snapped. “And being poor isn’t a crime. I can tell you what
is
, though: prostitution and loitering on private property.” She shook her head. “What I can’t even understand is that you were in that prison cell for
two days
before you called me.
Why
?”

“I didn’t want to ruin your Thanksgiving! It’s called being
considerate
.”

“Well, you failed! I’ve been thinking about you for the last two years, and worrying myself
sick
for the last few days!” Sophie put her hands over her ears to protect them from Elizabeth’s yells, which had reached top-volume at that point. When Sophie took her hands off her ears, Liz spoke much more softly. “You’re living with me, and that’s final. I’m so disappointed in you, I can barely swallow.”

Sophie knew the feeling, because she was disappointed in herself. She wasn’t even sure where exactly she let her life go wrong, but it had happened. What she wasn’t used to having was someone else being disappointed in her; and what she couldn’t understand was that person was Elizabeth Button, who had to have had something better to do that morning than drive Sophie around and scold her.

“I don’t know why you care,” Sophie murmured, wishing she’d just stayed in the cell with the surly prostitutes.

“Because, Sophie, I’ve met you. I looked into your eyes and I just see so much exhaustion. I hate looking at someone who’s old before their time and getting treated like garbage by everyone who’s supposed to love them. I can’t bear it, and I don’t have to, because I have the means and the inclination to change it.”

All conversation in the car died after that, replaced with the sound of Sophie shifting around in her seat, fresh snow hitting the windshield, and the windshield wipers swishing back and forth.

Sophie stared out the window until the scenery around them changed. They’d left the city and now all the houses were beginning to look nice— really, really nice, all the way to pretentious. Woods appeared, and then they passed into a gated community with homes that were breathtaking. Even the sidewalk looked immaculate.

Sophie’s eyes darted back and forth; she felt very uncomfortable in these sorts of surroundings. It was like one of those places on television where people claim they didn’t have to lock their doors at night. They pulled into a driveway in front of a huge house made with stone and old-fashioned pewter fixtures. She spotted a path and a smaller driveway that went around the side of the house to where there was another house in the back yard, only much a smaller one.

No wonder Elizabeth cried when she saw where Sophie was sleeping! Talk about how the
other half
lived…

“Come on,” Elizabeth sighed, sounding weary. “Get out of the car. Leave your stuff in the trunk.”

Sophie slowly exited, then approached the house like it was a mirage in the desert, set to disappear completely if she got too close to it. Elizabeth wrapped her hand around her upper arm again and marched her down the walkway and right through the unlocked front door.

The smell of eggs and bacon was in the air in the main foyer. There was a sound of a man’s deep voice singing some sort of golden oldie, “I heard it through the grapevine… Not much longer would she be mine… Baby, baby…” When Elizabeth closed the door behind them, the voice immediately stopped singing and asked, “Hello?”

“I’m home, Charlie,” Elizabeth called toward the back of the house. “I brought Sophie with me.”

“So,” said a second voice, also male, “is that a hint for me to put on pants?”

Elizabeth pursed her lips together. “Yes.”

“
Lame.
”

Elizabeth increased the pressure at where she held onto Sophie’s arm and directed her up the slightly winding staircase toward the second floor landing. Sophie’s eyes skirted over one of the doors that read
‘Lacey’
in childlike letters and she instantly assumed that Elizabeth had a young daughter. They walked past that door and Elizabeth opened the next door down the line.

Sophie gasped; gasping probably made her look like a yokel, but she simply hadn’t predicted that the opening door would reveal what could only be described as a five-star hotel room. Sophie hadn’t actually ever been in a hotel before, but when she saw them on television, they tended to look something like this: warm colors, alluring textures, a huge bed with perfectly tucked-in sheets and fluffy cloud-like pillows. The furniture was maple, warm, lavish, and it looked extremely expensive; there was even a flat-screen television across from the bed. She looked around and saw that it connected to its own bathroom.

For the first time that morning, she was suddenly happy that she had called Elizabeth to spring her out of prison. It might have not been the right move—the move she would have chosen again—but it was surely the only move that would have culminated in
this
. Is this how Annie felt when she was brought to Daddy Warbucks’ mansion? God, it was a good feeling… Sophie even had an urge to sing and dance a little. She wished she could bottle up this feeling and use it as a daily shampoo.

“You’ll be staying here,” Elizabeth told her, gesturing about the room like it wasn’t the most impressive place on earth, but that it would do. “I have two people downstairs I want you to meet, but it can wait until you have a shower. You’re probably feeling pretty grungy after sitting in a jail cell for that long.” She walked past her and turned on the light in the bathroom.

The light showed a place so clean that Sophie could eat off the floor. Even the toilet was so amazingly white and immaculate it deserved notice. The floor and walls were made of river stone, the sink was sunken into an antique cabinet, which Elizabeth opened, revealing shampoo, Q-tips, toothbrushes, and all sorts of brand-new, colorful, and very well-sorted hygiene products. When she opened the second door to the cabinet, she exposed perfectly folded towels and washcloths. “You should find everything you need in here,” Elizabeth said, although she was obviously double-checking, “but if you need anything, open the door and shout down to me and I’ll find you anything you need. When you come out, I’ll have laid out some clothes on the bed for you. Put them on, then come and meet me downstairs.” She stood and turned to leave Sophie alone in this gigantic, clean place.

“What about my clothes in the car?” Sophie found herself asking, wringing her hands in front of her nervously.

“Honey,” Elizabeth said wearily. “I saw where those had been lying this morning. They’re going to be washed before a human being touches them again.” She gave a weak, sympathetic smile and then left the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

Sophie sighed and walked past the mirror and glanced at herself. She looked like a greasy, tortured creature that had managed to claw its way out of hell. Her breath probably was horrible, too. Sophie tested it by breathing on her hand, and then nodded in confirmation. Yep; she was surely the grossest thing that this house had ever had to shelter. “All right,” she sighed, looking at the shower and speaking to it. “I hope you’re up for a challenge.”

* * *

Elizabeth stomped down the stairs and into the kitchen before throwing her purse on the counter and yanking her coat off angrily. After that, she realized that her men were both looking at her with their identical blue eyes. Their faces, be they very different, both had the same uncomfortable expression. It was the look they wore when they watched the Discovery Channel when a snake would eat something particularly cute.

They had apparently been eating breakfast, but now they just held forks with their food shoveled onto them.

Elizabeth heaved a tired groan and put her hand over her eyes. “You have no idea what my morning’s been like,” she told them, as if that would explain why she looked so not-in-control.

Charlie put down his fork, walked over to her, and put his large hands around her waist and hugged her, kissing the side of her head. “Why don’t you sit down and we’ll have a powwow?” he suggested after rubbing her arm soothingly a few times.

She took a deep breath, then nodded and walked over to the breakfast nook. The boys abandoned their stools at the kitchen island, brought their plates over, and sat around her.

Josh’s role at these little meetings was to break the tension and get everything on the table; or so it seemed, because he always ended up doing it. “So,” he said now after letting some silence fly by, “Sophie’s here. That’s the sixteen-year-old… ?”

“Eighteen,” Elizabeth corrected crossly. “I would never let anyone under eighteen into the house, Josh.” If Sophie was under eighteen, she probably would have driven her to a half-way house for kids. Unfortunately, now she didn’t have any government systems to help support her. Sophie was sadly short on options.

“Oh!” Josh looked far, far too pleased by this. His lips curled up into what Elizabeth could only describe as an evil grin. “
Nice
.” Mischief sparkled in his eyes and Elizabeth had to give him a firm enough expression to extinguish it. She would
not
give him free leave to chase Sophie around like she was a piece of meat.

The look landed well, and he scrubbed that stupid grin off his face and speared his egg with his fork. “So there’s an eighteen-year-old in our house. That’s cool. Happens all the time, so I’m totally used to it…” he mumbled sarcastically.

“So, what’s the plan here?” Charlie asked; he seemed confident enough that Liz would have one.

Liz found herself shrugging. She hadn’t shrugged in so long that she did it very awkwardly. “I don’t know.”

Charlie furrowed his dark eyebrows. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“I mean I don’t have any idea in hell. My first thought is to have her live here—maybe we could talk her into being our new little. But I don’t even know what her sexual inclination is. And I’d bet everything I own on the fact that Sophie’s never even heard of age-play before. I don’t want to put her in that position! The poor thing would probably think she jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire!” Liz shook her head and put her hand over her forehead. “Sophie was picked up for
prostitution
a couple days ago. She’d just been sitting there, in a cell, for two days, afraid to call me. She has no one else, she’s completely homeless—”