What Love Breeds

Chapter 5

"You've got to be shitting me." Dr. McCarthy puts her head in her hands.

"I already know, Amelia–"

"No, no, you've got to actually be shitting me," she says, her eyes boring holes in the floor of Shaw's office. "You fucked her, not her handler, not the rig, but you, the owner of the whole fucking enchilada. You fucked the bitch we worked so hard to make, that we only worked so fucking hard on because we needed something to show for your hand as captain of the ship."

Shaw folds his arms over his chest. "I know it's not ideal, but–"

"Of course it's not fucking ideal!" Amelia snaps, her hair coming lose from the tight bun she wrangles to the top of her head every morning. "Of course it's not, because what do you think the board's going to say if they find out she's your personal fucktoy?"

"Well, like you said, if the board finds out–"

"And they will find out! You're insane if you think they won't. With an operation like this, that is so far beyond any real legal precedence at the moment, they check every fucking nook and cranny with every visit! We're going to have to start over. Oh my god. All our work for nothing. We have to fucking put EMT299 in with the herd, and find some other difficult girl off the street, and hope we figure out what keeps her from submitting within the next two weeks without your help thank you very much and—"

"Amelia. I get it," Shaw cuts her off. "It's not... great. But honestly, is it really the end? I don't think we have to throw Essie May to the wolves because she happened to, uh, like me."

Amelia's eyes go frazzled. "Like you?! Because of your so-called efforts, EMT299 imprinted on you! She'll never be sold! She'll stay here for the rest of her days! And why, might you ask? Since you clearly don't understand the implications? Because she now thinks of you as the one who is solely responsible for her happiness and her fucking existence! Sure, she'll fuck other girls, she'll even fuck customers if they request her! But at the end of the day, she's going to be asking for you until she's blue in the face, and if she doesn't get you, she'll either go into a catatonic depression, starve herself, or lose her goddamn marbles!"

"I know, okay? I know," Shaw attempts to placate her.

Amelia gives another reckless spin in his plush desk chair. "I don't think you know a goddamn thing!"

"Alright, if I may cut in here," Tommy interjects. He pries himself from Shaw's bookshelf, stacked with photos of Shaw and his father through the ages. "Honestly? I don't see a way she didn't go about imprinting on Jay."

"You don't?" Amelia huffs. "Well, then I guess it doesn't matter! I should've seen it coming, of course! How fucking stupid of me!"

Tommy throws up his hands. "If you want me out all you gotta do is ask, because I'm not interested in taking more of this."

"No, you're staying," Shaw says. He comes to Amelia's side and stops her with a firm grip on the back of his chair. "And you're taking a walk."

"Fine!" Amelia pushes her way past Shaw and Tommy. She stomps out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Amelia is heard yelling at her staff straight down the hall, and distantly as she turns the corner. When it's clear she's given them real space, Shaw finally takes a seat at his own desk.

"Honestly, Tommy, how screwed are we?" Shaw pours two glasses of scotch. They each down a drink before Tommy answers.

"It's not ideal, I'll tell you that much. But we might be able to spin it, somehow," he scoffs.