Page 17 of Upshot

“Yes, ma’am.” She grabs a menu and leads me to a booth. I place my drink order before opening the menu. I’m a long way from California. There’s not a lot on here that I’ve eaten.

“I’d suggest the chicken-fried steak,” a blond guy says, dropping down in the seat across from me. “As a matter of fact, we’ll have two,” he tells the waitress. “All the fixings.”

“Might as well,” I mumble, snapping my menu closed. He calmly watches me for a few minutes. I’m starting to worry about my safety when he finally speaks again.

“So you’re the infamous one-night stand,” he says. Great, I’m already at a disadvantage.

“And you are?”

“What Brontë doesn’t need is for some blowhard to tumble into town and cause problems. So, what are your intentions?” I feel like I’m in a Western. If he draws his six-shooter, I’m the fuck out of here.

“How’s it any of your business?” I ask. The asshole just smiles. His teeth damn near blind me, even in this dark café. He looks like he belongs in California more than I do. “Look, I’m not here to cause any problems. Be aware though, I’m not being chased off. I don’t have a plan yet, but whatever it is, I’m not giving up my kid.”

“Huh. That’s good to know. Let me explain something to you though. If you do anything to hurt Brontë, I will be leading the mob of townspeople with pitchforks,” he says.

“I’m not going to do anything to intentionally hurt Brontë.” I can’t guarantee I won’t unintentionally screw everything up, however. I’m already doing a good job at that.

“Okay. I’ll hold you to that.” He shoves a hand at me.

I can’t help it. I flinch. This town has me a little jumpy. I try to calm down and shake it.

“I’m Reed Campbell. Austen Caraway, Brontë’s older sister, is my girlfriend.” That makes more sense. Except for one thing.

“How did you find me?” I ask.

“Oh, you can’t take a shit in this town without everyone knowing. Ms. Harrison called me when you checked into the hotel. Just don’t do anything you want to keep secret,” he says.

“Good to know.”

seven

BRONTË

“Un-freaking-believable,” Eliot says.

She’s sitting across from me in Austen’s kitchen. I walked back into my house after my confrontation with Rand, but just long enough to walk out the back door and down the back alley to my sister’s house. I gave her and Reed a condensed version of Rand’s and my conversation. Reed immediately left the house. Austen called Eliot.

“What a dick,” Austen agrees.

“Yeah, but I need to talk to him again,” I say.

Unfortunately, he’s still the father of my baby. I need to make sure he won’t drag me into a nasty custody battle. My family would rally behind me, but I’m certain a man who showed up in designer “casual” clothes will be able to hire much better lawyers than me.

“You should just wait him out. Make him come crawling to you,” Austen offers.

“And how did that work out for you and Reed?” Eliot counters.

“It worked out,” Austen exclaims.

“It just took ten years,” Eliot adds.

I sit silently. I’ve never been needed when my sisters decide on righteous indignation. In the past, they’ve always just chose a course of action and gave me my marching orders. I’m sure any of you youngest siblings out there understand. It was one of the reasons I loved living in New York. I made my own decisions. Of course, based on the bump where my abs were, that didn’t work out so well.

“Where did Reed go?” I ask, trying to steer the conversation.

“I don’t know,” Austen answers, looking around as if he’ll pop out of one of the kitchen cupboards. “You know he’s like a squirrel on crack half the time. He’ll be back.” I love Reed. He’s been like a big brother to me since elementary school when he moved in down the street. But she’s right, he does tend to go off half-cocked.

“You might be able to steer Austen away from the current problem, but I’m not so easy,” Eliot states. I moan. “What do we need to do? Do I need to go get my taser?”

---