The Tycoon's Baby
***
The next morning I awoke to the thought that this was a new day and I was going to face it as such. When I had my break I would call and schedule an appointment with my gynecologist. Until then, I was going to try and keep a positive outlook. Maybe I wasn’t really pregnant, and maybe if I was, things wouldn’t turn out quite as badly as I pictured them. I’m more capable than I give myself credit for, considering all I’d already gone through in my life. If it comes down to it and I had to deal with this all on my own, I can do that.
I was sick again, but with the idea in mind that it was probably morning sickness, I pushed on and finished getting ready for work. I passed on my morning coffee, knowing I’d probably have a headache later, but I wanted the nausea to be long gone before I got to work. I took a package of saltines and munched on them on my way. When I got to the gates of the mansion, my whole world blew apart.
Normally there was one guard at the gate that greeted people and buzzed the main house if need be. Today there were three very large gentlemen. None of them were the friendly Gus who gave me a donut three times a week, or Haskell who liked to tell me jokes and the latest baseball scores. I didn’t recognize these guys, and none of them looked like they had a sense of humor. I pulled up and stopped and the biggest of the three motioned at me to roll down my window. I did, and as he approached me, I felt a wave of nausea just from the intensity of his glare.
“I.D.” he said, abruptly. I took out my I.D. and handed it to him. He looked hard at it and motioned the other two guys over. They both glared at me and it. What was going on? Finally, he handed it back to me and said, “Miss Hart you are no longer employed by Mr. Reigns. You aren’t to report here again or go near any of Mr. Reigns' properties. If you have any personal property inside the mansion, it will be sent to your last known address. Do not contact Mr. Reigns by phone or electronically, nor by mail of any kind. If you have anything you would like to say to him, you can say it through his attorneys who will be contacting you.”
“I don’t understand. What do you mean that I’m no longer employed? I’m fired? He fired me and hired some ape to tell me that?” I was livid and I wasn’t thinking that here I was addressing said ape in this fashion. I wanted to jump out of the car and run up to that stupid giant house and pound on the door. I wanted to demand that at least one man in my life should have the balls to tell me something to my face for a change! I was so sick of men turning their backs on me. First my father, then Jason and now Alex. Did I have a stamp on my forehead that said, “Please don’t waste your time treating me decently, I’m not worth it!?”
“Yes Miss, you’re fired. Your final paycheck will be mailed to your last known address.”
“Stop saying that! Why are you saying ‘Your last known address?’ It is my address. I’m not a terrorist for crying out loud.”
“You need to go now Miss or you’ll be escorted back to the main road.”
“Escorted? You would be very sorry if you put your hands on me in any way!”
“I won’t,” he said, still stone faced. “But the police are standing by.”
The police? What did they think I did? Was something missing? Do they think I stole something? Oh God, I’m going to be sick! I put the car into reverse and nearly drove right over big and ugly’s foot before he jumped back out of the way. I went backwards all the way to the main road and then when I got there, I had to put it in park, get out and vomit on the side of the road. As I was standing there, heaving my guts out, I caught sight of them watching me. Dear God, what was going on? Losing my job was one thing, but being considered some kind of criminal was entirely another. I wiped my mouth on the sleeve of my ugly uniform. It didn’t matter; I wasn’t going to need it any longer apparently. Before I got back in the car, I threw a gesture at big and ugly at the gate. His expression still didn’t change, but it made me feel a little better nonetheless.