Subject: News
Hi Bjorn,
This is Samara, we met at UCLA when you came to give that lecture. And then you invited me to your boat for a cocktail party and things got a bit hot and heavy between us. Well…I’m happy to inform you of the consequences of that session. We are expecting a baby.
I hope this message finds you well.
Regards
Samara Khaled.
Inga stared at the message in disbelief. She was strongly inclined to place it in the spam folder or delete it outright. But then she thought, ‘what did this person want and how far were they willing to go to get it?’ She knew that dealing with this was way above her pay grade, but on the other hand she didn’t want to disturb Bjorn with it if she didn’t have to…
She snatched up the phone and called a number from memory.
“John? John Watson? This is Inga Sorenson, from Sweden”
“Ah, miss Sorenson; lovely to hear from you again. What can I do for you?”
“I have a matter of importance I need you to investigate for me..discreetly.”
“I’m always discreet madam. State your business.”
“I need all the information that you have on one…” Inga snatched up the printout of the email, “Samara Khaled.”
“Do you have any other details aside from her name?”
“Well, I know that she is or was a student of UCLA as of five weeks ago and she attended a lecture given by Bjorn Fredriksen at that time. She was also at a cocktail party he hosted on his yacht therefore his California security firm will have her details. I will contact them as soon as this call is done to avail them to you.”
“Great. That’s a good start. And you need results…?”
“Yesterday.”
“Of course.”
Inga hung up and leaned back in her chair with a sigh. They did not need this shit right now.
“….Samara! Samara!” Amy was shouting in her ear and she started with surprise.
“What?”
“Have you heard a word I said? I’ve been talking to you for the last thirty minutes and it's like you’re somewhere else.”
Samara sighed, “I’m sorry. It's just…I sent Bjorn an email two weeks ago about the baby and I haven’t heard back. Not so much as a word.”
Amy rolled her eyes, “Well what did you expect?”
Samara shrugged and grimaced wryly, “I guess I thought…I mean even my dad with his less than honest character didn’t abandon his kids.”
“Well for one thing, he was in love with the woman who birthed them. For another, by the time she died you were more than an abstract concept to him. You were his child. For another thing, he’d known your mother for more than one night before she declared she was pregnant!”
Samara grimaced again, “Why are you being so mean?”
“I’m trying to knock some sense into you!” Amy said.
“You sound like Alison,” Samara said.
“Yeah well…maybe she had a point sometimes.”
Samara gave her a look and Amy caved. “Sorry. I’m not saying she was right with the whole ‘don’t go to college thing’ but maybe you do tend to have unrealistic expectations about people. Which is weird considering everything you’ve seen in your life.”
Samara deflated. “You’re right. I know you’re right. And so was Alison…a lot of the time. I just…what am I supposed to do?” she wailed.
“Prepare for single motherhood,” Amy said and when Samara’s bottom lip trembled and her eyes shone with tears, Amy leaped over the space that separated them and gathered the taller girl into her arms. “It’ll be alright. You know we’ll help you as much as possible. Ma’s gonna be a doting grandma and Nanny can babysit while you go out to work…”
“I still can’t believe you still have a nanny,” Samara mumbled into Amy’s neck.
“Thank your lucky stars I do, otherwise you might have to consider day care.”
“Oh Amy, it's great to hear you say all these things but I couldn’t possibly impose like that. But you’re right. I have to start thinking about the baby and how I’m going to manage this.”
“Damned right I’m right,” Amy said.
Samara opened the door of her dorm room to find her sister standing outside, hands in leather jacket pockets, black jeans and boots completing the ensemble; her hair was dyed red and styled Rihanna circa 2009. She looked like the bad ass she was.