Ghostface Killer(37)

"You can turn it off if you want."

Her expression softens. I hate it when she looks at me like that. "I guess if you are going to pine over a lost love, today would be the day." Valentine's Day. Ick. "I brought you presents. More ginger ale and this?" She pulls out a small, neatly folded paper bag from her little messenger purse that's draped across the front of her body. I take it curiously. When I look inside the bag, I swear all the blood drains from my face.

"A pregnancy test?"

"Don't act surprised, chiquitina. This is just to validate what we already both know."

I stare at Claudia stoically. She knows everything. Every small, minute, glorious, arousing, heart-aching detail.

And as soon as I started to get sick, suspicions rose.

I place my hand on my sour stomach.

"Have you given any thought about what you'll do?" she asks supportively.

I shrug unsurely.

"An abortion?" she offers delicately.

"No," I immediately contest. "I want it. I'll keep it."

Her eyebrows furrow worriedly. She knows who I am. What my life is like.

"How would that work?"

"I don't know. I'd have to figure it out. Maybe I'll run. Start over somewhere. I just know I won't get rid of it."

Claudia steps into the bathroom and throws her arms around me. I hug her tightly. She's my only friend, and I love her more than words could ever express.

"My brother could help you. He knows people," she hints. "He could get you a new identity."

"Claudia, no." I push her back so I can look at her face. "I would never ask you to do that. I would never put you in that position." I know how tumultuous her relationship is with her criminal brothers. I know being mixed up with them is what got her hooked on drugs and nearly ruined her whole life. No way. I can handle this myself.

There's a hard bang on the front door, and we both startle.

"Shit, that's my ride. Listen, stay right here, out of sight. Wait ten minutes before you leave."

She nods. No one in my other life knows about Claudia, and I plan to keep it that way.

I give her one more quick hug, grab my coat and purse off my bed, and hurry to open the front door. Right before I do, I stuff the pregnancy test into my clutch. I swing the door open to a man who looks like a secret service agent. Tall, indifferent, dark suit impeccably pressed. He's one of Regina's henchman, and he's here to escort me to some stupid party in the city she demanded I be at.




 

 

We don't say a word to each other, just walk down the hall to the elevator and out to the awaiting car.

Bile rises in my throat as we drive, the movement of the car making me sick. I wish I had some ginger ale, or a bucket, or sleeping pills. Anything to ease my encumbering ailment.

Ugh . . . this is going to be a long fucking night.



It's cold and snowy in the city, but the inside of the beautifully decorated room is warm with candlelight, crystal accents, and red roses. I suppose if one was celebrating Valentine's Day, this is the ideal set up.

I watch Regina flutter around the room like she owns it. I'll give it to the woman, she knows how to work a crowd. And she's a showstopper in her long, sparkly champagne dress that makes her look like a movie star. Sometimes I think she missed her calling. A dramatic bitch like her belongs in Hollywood.

I catch sight of my reflection in the window, a translucent silhouette of my flowy blonde hair and floor-length red dress with provocative slit up the side. To the unknowing eye, I'm just another guest at the party. But for Regina, I'm extra muscle. She likes to bring along a quiet entourage when she steps out in public. Bedsides Kruger looking menacingly out of place in the corner, her driver and mine are both in attendance and both packing heat.

"Champagne?" A server offers as he passes by. I go to grab a glass then stop myself. That fucking pregnancy test is burning a hole in my purse.

I politely decline.

Scanning the room, I search Regina out. She's laughing and flirting with a handsome man in a tux who I assume is her next play thing.

This party is a complete bore, so I have no reservations slipping away for a little while to take care of some personal business.

I search out a bathroom with some privacy, finding a communal one far away from the party back by the kitchen.

I lock myself in the farthest stall, pull the pregnancy test out of my bag, and rip it open with my pulse pounding in my head.

I sit on the toilet and pee on the stick, my hand shaking the entire time.

I breathe deeply, attempting to stay calm as I stare at the little window for what feels like hours. Blue writing finally starts to appear, and my heartbeat picks up, thumping so fast I fear I might pass out. Then it's clear as day. The results.