Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 55860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
I shouldn’t be astonished when I wake up dizzy and sick to my stomach when the sky is still barely turning to gray. I stagger into the bathroom and barely make it to the toilet in time to vomit as violently as I can ever remember. I’m retching and coughing, too afraid to crawl feebly to the sink to rinse my mouth. I know before I even buy a test what this is. It’s what always happens to careless girls. I go from being headstrong, free and happy to the classic cautionary tale.
I rock back on my heels and try to get my head to stop swimming.
I’d groan in disappointment at myself, at my reckless abandon and its natural consequences if I wasn’t afraid making any more noise would wake Jack. The guy I fell for, who happens to lead the most dangerous lifestyle known to the modern world. He employs hit men. I stitch up injured thugs in the back of a bar on a plastic tablecloth, the paper gown and latex gloves a comforting illusion that what I’m doing is in any way legitimately medical in nature.
I had a fun, romantic fling with a man who cannot possibly be interested in becoming a father. If he were, he’d marry some rich society bride, uniting their wealthy crime families or something like that. I’m undereducated, unemployed except on a cash-only basis stitching up stab wounds in a bar, and I don’t think my family tree would impress anyone.
The only branch I have left of it is the cause of all my problems except this. This is all my own irresponsibility. I’d beat myself up some more, but I have to puke again. By the time I get to rinse out my mouth, I’ve sweated through my t-shirt and surrendered to the dizziness. I lie down on the cool tile floor.
I no longer care if he finds me like this. I’m too sick to worry about his reaction to the news, or to come up with some believable lie. I find myself hoping I’ll just pass out from dehydration and blur into oblivion for a few hours. It’s the only option that sounds appealing at all.
The inside of my mouth is the flavor of rancid fur. Unbidden, as I blink my eyes open, I think of the dill pickle we once shared and feel bile rise in my throat. This is not going to be one of those gentle pregnancies where an apple-cheeked wholesome girl finds herself in a family way, discovering her condition via cute cravings for bacon and peanut butter. No, I’ve got the Exorcist style morning sickness, my complexion gray and pallid, sweaty—not at all like the healthy pink cheeks of those cute pregnant girls I’ve seen on campus before.
One more obstacle between me and nursing school. Not only my father’s compounding debts but my own misstep. The only thing that could possibly make this worse is telling Jack Marino that I’m knocked up.
12
JACK
I’m late getting to Bettino’s. Something came up at work, is how I’ll explain it to Serena. Concerning myself with what to tell her or anyone else, the desire to protect her is its own worry. I won’t tell her that the problem at work was a second cousin we caught trying to roll over on the entire Marino organization to save his own ass because he got caught embezzling from his father-in-law’s company. That’s what he thought was a smart decision—steal from the wife’s family, betray his own.
Fact is, he doesn’t know enough to do any damage—he was never more than a distant cousin my dad never trusted enough to hire.
I gave him a choice, man to man. He decided to turn himself in to the cops on embezzlement. His wife has wisely filed for divorce and custody of their kids. He knows to serve his time, keep his head down and my name out of his mouth. My dad would have shot him in the head gleefully in front of a room full of assembled family and friends to make an example. I make my own examples.
He’s too weak to harm me or mine. He’s no threat and is headed to the state penitentiary on a plea deal that’ll put him away for ten years minimum. His kids’ll be teenagers and want nothing to do with him by the time he gets out. That’s punishment enough to my mind.
I enter through the back office as usual. Instead of going straight through to the bar, I pause, see Serena sitting in the guest chair in front of the desk where I’ve watched her clean and repair wounds using the surface as a makeshift operating table. She sits on her hands, feet on the floor. She isn’t curled up, doesn’t lounge in the chair or light up with the playful smile I look forward to.