VEGAS follows you home (34 page)

When she doesn't move, doesn't blink, and doesn't appear to be breathing, I prompt her.

"Mrs. Shaw?"

She clears her throat.

"I'm sorry, sir. I'm just a bit surprised. Of course I'll assist you with whatever needs done."

"Good."

I exhale.

"Let's start by getting my brother in here as soon as you can, okay?"

"No need, I'm already here." Hugh enters, worry lining his face.

"Hugh, I'd like to review some things with you and Mrs. Shaw before I leave."

"Another vacation?" he carefully asks.

I smile, knowing he's overheard something or perhaps my mother has spoken to him.

"No. I've resigned."

His eyes widen and lips part in shock.

"You quit?" Scarlett exclaims, pushing by Hugh and charging to my desk. "Don't let that bitch—”

"Mrs. Shaw, I'll call you when we are to begin."

She gives a small nod and hurries from the office, closing the door behind her.

I turn my attention back to Scarlett.

"She didn't do this. It's my decision, for once."

Scarlett shakes her head fervently.

"No, Damon, she did do this. She's forcing your hand, even if it's not in the way she planned."

"I'm getting as far from the Banks family, from my mother, as I can. I want nothing to do with her again."

"Fine, then make her release all her stock and hold on the company. Kick her out. Don't let her change your life by her actions. It's time for you to change hers!" Scarlett smacks my desk. "You are this company, Damon."

"No, it's my mother’s and she will always have a hold on it, and me, if I stay."

"Scarlett is right." Hugh steps next to his fiancé. "Damon, you don't see it and you think it's your mother, but you're so wrong. It's
you
our investors and clients believe in. They are not relying on an elderly woman who they all can see won't let go of the strings."

I open my mouth to protest.

"Wait. Hear me out." He puts up a hand.

"When there is a problem with our major clients, such as Baxtor Broadcasting, who do they reach out to?"

"Blanche and my mother go way back," I argue.

"True, but it's Vincent — her son — who contacts you. He runs the company, Damon. Blanche hasn't controlled things since Vince took on the role of CEO. She holds stock, much like your mother, but she is a silent partner. He listens to her input, but makes the decisions."

"And if his mother were to advise against our initiatives, then—"

"You are kidding, right?" Hugh's brow rises, disbelief wrinkling his forehead. "You believe he makes his decisions based on what his mommy tells him to do? Do you think so little of him?"

"No, of course not, but—"

"But nothing," Scarlett interjects. "It's the same here. Everyone knows you are the force behind this company. No one believes for one second your mother has any ruling authority. Not even the investors."

"Every time we end an investor meeting where your mother attends, the first thing most people want to know is when they will hear your thoughts and plans. They crave your input, Damon." Hugh presses his hands on my desk, his palms flat.

"Just think about this before you make any final decisions. That's all I ask," Scarlett implores.

Olivia

Another week passes without a word from Damon. I'm still not sleeping well and the lack of sleep shot my immune system to hell, causing me to pick up some flu bug. Between the bakery, Alex, and not feeling well, I think I may lose my mind. Luckily, Alex still takes naps, so I'm able to sleep when he does. It's still not enough to help, though. For the last two days, I've been confined to my apartment and restricted from entering the bakery. Mercedes spends most of her day with me to help with Alex, except for today. Today, my father picked him up to spend time with his grandson and to give Ced and I a break.

A knock at the door is the first thing to get me off the couch I'm sharing with Mercedes, aside from bathroom breaks.

"I'm sorry to just drop by, but..." Alfonso pauses, taking in my wrinkled pajamas, frizzy hair, and blotchy face. "You don't look so hot."

He drops his bag by the door before sitting in a chair next to the couch.

After closing the door, I curl back up on the couch. I notice that Mercedes has straightened and fixed her clothes for a better appearance.

"I caught the flu," I croak, snuggling back into the couch.

"That sucks." Alfonso shifts his gaze from noticeably checking out Mercedes to me.

If I were feeling better, I'd excuse myself to leave them alone for a moment. It's the first time I've really seen him more than nod at her in a friendly greeting.

"Did you come by to tell her how awful she looks or is there a point to your visit?" Mercedes snaps at him, uncharacteristically.

My eyes widen at her remark and his obvious unease.

"Yes, I have news about your divorce."

Instantly, I forget about the weirdness between Alfonso and Mercedes. My spine straightens and every muscle tenses, waiting for him to launch into Damon's return fire. Seeing the weary eagerness on my face, he continues.

"Mr. Knyght is not fighting your petition." A small smile plays at the corner of his mouth.

He's not fighting the divorce? He's going to let us go? He's not fighting for us?

A part of me feels like twerking, while another part, one which shall not be admitted to if asked, feels like crying, screaming, and yelling.

"Olivia?" Alfonso invades my mixed thoughts. "I thought you would be happy?"

It's more of a question than a statement. I shake my head and blink.

"I am," I blurt. "I'm just surprised by this turn in events."

LIAR! You're disappointed.

"I don't think surprised is the right word," Mercedes chimes in, looking at me and avoiding Alfonso.

Her hand links with mine and squeezes.

"I agree," Alfonso speaks, drawing my attention, but not Mercedes’. "There's something else I need to discuss with you, though."

"What?" My relief ebbs.

"Mr. Knyght is petitioning for paternity and joint custody."

Shock tingles across my skin and widens my eyes.

He wants to take him for half the time? Take him to New York, near his crazy, controlling mother and chauvinistic father? Oh, hell no!

"No!" Shaking my head, I reaffirm my objection.

"Liv…" Mercedes begins.

"I won't send my son off to New York for part of the year."

"Olivia, Mr. Knyght has already established—"

"No, Alfonso!" I snap. "I want you to do whatever you have to in order to object to the petition. He can see his son, but only in Pittsburgh and supervised. I can't trust what he and his mother will scheme and plan."

Throwing back the blanket, I stand, determination stiffening my spine. My attempt at showing strength quells from the churn of my stomach. Darting off to the bathroom with my hand over my mouth, I kneel before the toilet.

I'm lying against the cool tile floor when Mercedes enters, following a light knock.

"You need anything?"

Grabbing onto the edge of the sink, I pull myself to a seated position.

"I think it's time for a doctor." Mercedes purses her lips.

"There's nothing they can do for the flu, Ced."

I raise my arms to her and she grabs my hands. She helps me to stand. Noticing my wobbling legs, she stays close to my side as I brush my teeth.

"What's going on in here?"

The sound of Felicity's voice surprises me.

"When did you get here?" I ask around the toothbrush in my mouth.

"Alfonso let me in just before he left." She shrugs. "He said he will be in touch with you soon and hopes you feel better."

"Okay, thanks." I remove the toothbrush and rinse my mouth.

Suddenly, the mint of the paste was not a good idea
.

With Mercedes help, I reclaim my position on the couch and snuggle the cushions and pillows.

"I'm going to clean up the bathroom a bit and pee. Be right back." Mercedes steps away and Felicity replaces her, kneeling next to the couch.

"Can I get you anything?" Felicity asks.

"I'm good, thanks." I give her as much of a smile as I can muster given the state of my stomach.

She stands, looking around the apartment.

"Where's Alex?"

"Dad," I rasp, closing my eyes and breathing through my nose.

"Damn," Mercedes’ curse is muffled by the bathroom door, but still audible. "Liv, do you have any tampons?"

"They're under the—"

"Already looked, there's nothing there," she responds before I'm finished.

"There should be a box…"

My stomach flips again, but this time for a different reason.

Heart racing and mind spinning, I push off the couch and trudge toward the bathroom.

"Liv?" Felicity follows closely. Her arms are out, as if I'll fall at any second.

Barging through the closed door, I fling open the cabinet under the sink.

"What the hell?!" Mercedes shouts from the toilet, her bright pink skinny jeans bunched around her knees.

No blue box.

Air rushes from my lungs. Standing slowly, I grip the edge of the bathroom countertop.

"Liv?" Felicity hedges.

"Check the hall linen closet for tampons." My voice shakes, sounding fragile.

"Okay." She disappears, but returns quickly with an unopened box.

My brain is in overdrive, calculating, adding, and trying to account for the unopened box.

"What is going on?" Mercedes asks over the flush of the toilet.

Felicity moves to my left, placing an arm around my shoulders. Mercedes stands on my right.

"Liv, you're worrying me." Felicity softly urges me to answer.

"I'm late," I whisper.

"What do you—?"

"Oh my God," Mercedes says, cutting Felicity off.

Her arms wrap around my middle and she squeezes close to my side.

"Oh. Oh!" Felicity catches up and hugs me from my left.

Tears escape my eyes, streaming over my cheeks.

"This can't be happening," I sob, full of fear, worry, and disbelief.

"I'll be right back." Felicity vanishes from my side and out of the bathroom.

Mercedes guides me back to the couch. We sit silently for a minute.

"Maybe I'm wrong." I look up, seeing Mercedes’ face filled with pity. "It could be the flu, Ced."

"Maybe." She takes my hand.

I drop my head to her shoulder and close my eyes.

We stay silent for some time, until Felicity pulls us from my denial bubble when she bursts through my apartment door with a white plastic shopping bag in her hand.

She empties the contents onto the coffee table. Three different pregnancy test twin packs scatter over the dark wood.

Sitting forward, I pick up the white box and give it a distasteful look before dropping it back down with the blue and pink one.

"Someone get me a cup." I sigh at the end of my request.

"A cup?" Ced leans forward, poking the pink box.

"To pee in," I groan.

"Eww." Her face scrunches in disgust. "Make sure it's an old cup that we can throw away afterward."

Felicity puts a glass of water and an empty plastic cup in front of me. I toss back the water, hoping it will stay down, and take the empty cup to the bathroom.

After dunking one of each brand into the cup, I line them up on the counter. We sit on the edge of the bathtub, waiting to check results. My leg bounces in anticipation. Deep down, I know the results, but part of me still holds onto the idea of having the flu.