Page 1 of Pregnant By the Good Guy

CHAPTER 1

MARI

EIGHTEEN WEEKS AGO

He is staring at me,and it is making me dizzy and that is the last thing I need, especially if I want to get these drinks to the table without having an accident. “He is staring at you like you are a rare steak, hun. Tell again why you haven’t given that man a meal?” Roxy, the older waitress asks me. My face heats up knowing she noticed it, but I simply put my head down.

“Roxy, stop it,” I whisper and try to finish what I was doing. I cannot afford to make a mistake.

I started working at this bar two months ago. It's not my first choice but it was the only place in this small town where everyone knows your business that would hire me without looking at me like the daughter of the town whore.

My mother, Riel, used to be beautiful. She was lively, vibrant and young once. In truth she is still young, but you wouldn’t know it. She had me at sixteen years old and due to her claim she didn’t know who the father was, my grandfather who was a pastor gave her an ultimatum, marry a man of his choosing so she didn’t shame the family or be kicked out with nothing. Of course she chose marriage. This was a secret I have alwaysknown as the man who helped raise me, if you could call it that, never missed an opportunity to remind me I was another man’s bastard.

My younger years I remember nothing but being a kid. My mother was an only child, so my grandparents doted on me. I remember pink frilly dresses and birthday parties and trips and anything a little kid could want. I had no idea what was happening around me. It wasn’t until I turned ten and both of my grandparents were no longer with us that the roses were removed from my eyes.

I walked in from school one day to see him slap her onto the floor and kick her in the stomach. I would later learn she was four months pregnant but lost the baby. That was his plan. He wanted no more children after me. Hell I’m pretty sure he didn’t want me but wasn’t given a choice. He was a drunk, an evil one and he didn’t care who was around if you were in his path, you were his target.

The first time he hit me I was twelve and my mom was gone. He walked in from who knows where and I guess he expected food to be waiting for him. I had no idea about any of that, so when I walked past him to go to my room, he reached out, grabbed me by my hair and flung me across the room. My back hit the corner of the coffee table. I cried out in pain, not even sure I could walk, dragging myself across the floor. My mom came in, saw the situation and flew into a rage at him. She scratched him, screamed at him never to touch me again and threatened to call the police. He punched her in the face, called her a bitch and walked out the door.

That threat worked for a while, but it wasn’t enough to stop it forever. Over the years things got worse, and my mother and I got better at hiding the evidence. Me by covering up from my neck down and her by doing drugs and drinking. Then one day, he got into a bar fight, messed with the wrong person and founda bullet in his head. That was that. I thought we were finally free, but I was wrong.

From there it was a long line of men coming and going, some just simply disgusting drunks, or ones putting white lines up their nose which she also indulged in. Usually both of them were so coked out I was able to hide in my room and come and go without incident. Other times the guy would be no better than my dad and I would spend the time dodging their anger and bottles and furniture.

I got brave one of the days it was just she and I and asked her about my biological father. She looked at me like I had a double head. All she would say was he was no better than the rest of them other than he was rich. She said he used her and when she needed him, he was nowhere to be found. That was the day I began to suspect he didn’t know about me.

Over the summer going into my senior year when I met James, he seemed the complete opposite of what I was used to. He was older than me by two years and had this pretend bad boy vibe kind of like Danny Zuko fromGrease. He was the opposite of what I expected, so much so that I wasn’t sure how to act around him. Whenever he would raise his hand, even though it was to move my hair out of my face, I would close my eyes and flinch, preparing myself for the blow. Eventually, I learned to accept the best and that is when the worst started.

I had just gotten a job at the local bar and grill, hellbent on saving money to get the hell out of here after graduation which, come to think of it, is the swan song for most girls growing up in this town's undesirable area with no opportunities, money, or jobs. We simply work to move on. James would give me a ride to and from work like the perfect doting boyfriend. A few times he stayed during my shift and at first it seemed fine. But one day afterward, he questioned me like the freaking cops about thebartender, Royce, asking me if he had hit on me or if something was going on between us. I looked at him like he was crazy.

The truth is I can get what he is saying because every night when I work I can feel Royce’s eyes on me. Hell, I can practically feel the burn of his gaze as if I were naked. He makes conversation, moving close to me throughout the night and I would be lying if I didn't admit it makes my stomach feel funny. Hell, I swear one time he walked behind me, and his fingers grazed my hips while he sniffed me, but before I could turn around he was gone. He might have mentioned once or twice how I was too good for James and that I deserved better, but I really had no clue what he meant since at the time nothing had happened.

Toward the beginning of school James began pressuring me to have sex with him. We had talked about it before, and I explained that I wasn’t ready, and I wanted to focus on school. He told me he understood. So when he started pushing the issue I was confused and a bit sad but didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. I tried placating him with kisses and I even did things to him, but that only appeased him for so long.

The three weeks after school started was the first time he hit me. We were on our way home from the movies but instead of him driving me home, he drove to the lookout which is a known spot where people makeout and have sex. My heart began pounding, my alert going off in my head. I made sure to have my purse in my hand ready to bolt. Out of nowhere he gripped the back of my head and when I looked in his eyes, I saw anger and a monster.

“It’s time to stop playing games,” he told me, reaching for my jacket.

“James, please. I have school tomorrow. Can we talk about this later?” I tried making my voice soft and rubbing his face.

“No. I am done fucking letting you lead me around by my dick. I want what I have paid for.” My head jerks back not sure what he meant until it hits me. He thinks all of the dates he has taken me on amounts to payment.

I remember my mind running through the summer, looking for clues other than lately, words I missed, actions I overlooked. How did I miss this? Pushing against him, I tried pushing him off me, begging him to let me go. When I tried pushing once more, my nail scratched him by accident, he cursed and before I could see it coming, his fist landed on my face.

That blow knocked the air from my lungs, but he took me home. The rest of the summer was more of the same. He would apologize and bring me flowers and then a day or two later or even the same day I would end up hurt and sobbing. I have had a bruised rib, a black eye that kept me in the house until it turned yellow, and I could cover it with makeup, a bloody nose and constant humiliation because I won’t sleep with him.

Finally, one morning before school when he showed up at my house and ripped my clothes, forcing me onto my bed, my mind flashed to how I was so stupid and let this happen. He had just managed to rip my panties down when my mom and some guy showed up. She heard me scream, rushed into my room and made him leave. That was the day I decided I was done.

It has been a few weeks since I have heard from him. I am finally starting to breathe and looking forward to the rest of the year. Roxy’s scratchy voice in my ear makes me giggle.

“Stop what? You’re an angel. Any guy would be lucky to have you.” I blush at her complement not realizing that Royce has moved close to me until I hear him grumble something that sounds like ‘not any guy’. I look toward him unsure if I made it up, but his eyes tell me I didn't.

Lately, things between us have been thick and deliberate on his part. Like me behind the bar grabbing a sprite or a spritzerfor a customer when the bar is busy and somehow he will end up behind me, caging me in before I can turn around. Most of the time he is whispering in my ear how good I smell or how soft my hair is. Goosebumps are my new normal when I am around him and to be honest, my wet panties are also normal now.

A few times he let me know he was only giving me time. That always makes me swallow and my knees wobbly. Royce is a good guy though. You can look at him and tell he comes from a nice family, from the good side of town and is going somewhere.

One of the few times we managed to have a normal conversation he told me how this was temporary. Apparently he also works for his mom’s restaurant and last year he was the night auditor for a hotel. He says he is in college for hospitality management, and he has to know how all aspects of tourist destinations work.

Enviously I listened to his plans for the future, envisioning myself doing something similar, getting away from this town and having a plan, a destination. Would it be silly if I told you I pictured being with him when he did it? Then I snap out of it. His future looks great and some girl from the trailer park with a drunk, coked out mom and no chance of going anywhere but maybe two towns over to start over, would only ruin it.

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