Making His Baby(73)

I repress a shudder and take a deep breath to still the churning in my stomach. Back in dreamland, I smack Dream Eric again. He likes it, though, his eyes hungry and desperate. I guess I can give him what he wants — just a taste.

I recline on the table and spread my legs. He pushes himself closer to me and drops his head between the black leather. Like a good little submissive, he looks to me for permission. I make him wait, make him smell me without tasting, and finally nod.

“You will put that dirty mouth to good use.” I order him.

Vivian slams her palm down on the desk and I jump. Real Life Eric and David the Fuckface don’t look shaken by it. Instead, they have almost matching wry smiles. They feel the upper hand. They feel me losing.

I, on the other hand, feel a panic attack bubbling in my chest.

“I think we are done here.” Vivian neatly stacks her papers and notepads. She shoves them in her briefcase with a layer of cool that could betray even the most detail-oriented observer. “This is obviously not working. The point of mediation is to settle outside of court, gentlemen. If you are incapable of meeting us on anything, this just means we’ll have to proceed. Your client needs to evaluate what this means for his career.”

My phone vibrates again. I don’t want to check it. David stares straight at me, waiting like a terrible lion. I stare back and rest my phone on the table. We never break eye contact as I recline in my seat and cross my arms.

The smile on his face wavers for a moment but he returns to his phone and pecks out another message. The phone vibrates again, rocking around the table. Vivian glances over, reads my phone, and turns a pointed stare at David.

“That’s private.” David says it with bite but keeps his face placid. It’s a Hollywood trait we all learn quickly.

“I find it interesting, Mr. McArthur, that you are refusing to acknowledge how instrumental Kate has been to your professional career, and how important she was to you personally, while you are propositioning her via text message.”

“I agree. I think we’re done here.” Real Life Eric stands and buttons his jacket. “Since your client is unable to see what she’s requesting is outside the realm of rationality, we’ll just need to take this to a judge.”

“So it appears.” Vivian stands and motions for me to follow. “Mrs. Crofton, thank you for your time.”

Robolibrarian stands with the others but says nothing. Her face is unreadable beyond the frustration. She’s a mirror of the storm swirling in my brain.

“What the hell?” I hiss to Vivian by the elevator. “I thought our best chance was for this to go well in mediation?”

“Not anymore.” Vivian jabs the elevator button with extra vigor. “Save those text messages. We’ll need them. Every scrap of evidence he cheated. Anything that could be misconstrued as infidelity. Phone records. Everything. It is imperative we take him down at the knees. Understand?”

“Of course.”

“I’ll try to take down Eric while we are at it.”

Somewhere in the dark corners of my mind, an idea hatches.





CHAPTER SIX



ERIC



“Shots on the house, boys.” Becky offers me a wink before running off to another table. I give it a sniff and wince. Tequila. I hate tequila, but if someone else is paying, I’m not passing.

“Just take Becky home already.” Paxton clears his throat. “I’m tired of watching this cat-and-mouse shit.”

“And ruin everything? Pass.” I clink his glass and shoot the tequila. Lime goes over my shoulder and I look Geoff in the eye while doing it. “If she falls into that woman scorned bullshit, our reign of free drinks comes to an end.”

“So date her.” Geoff says. He sets his lime rind in the empty glass and folds his arms. “Or maybe leave her alone.”

“Shut up.” Paxton rolls his eyes. “You’re the most single motherfucker I’ve seen in this bar, so it’s not like you’re a sage of wisdom.”

“I’ve had plenty of girls.” Geoff puffs himself up. “Plenty.”

At this, Paxton and I laugh heartily. I pretend to wipe a tear from my eye and clap him on the back.

“That was a good one, man. Don’t let anyone ever say you aren’t funny.”

“Fuck off.” Geoff growls and sips his beer. “How does McArthur put up with your shit?”

“McArthur and Eric? They’re one and the same person,” Paxton smirks at his own joke.

“Oh, you can die in a fire.” I point to Paxton and flick him off. “That guy is a real piece of garbage. I chase tail, he chases the goddamn devil. Don’t put him on my level. He wishes he was as badass as I am.”