Bumped - Completed Novel

Bumped - Chapter Eight

Funny how he would choose this place to meet. How he remembered. We had stopped here only once, eons ago. Wondering now if it's because he's been here before with someone else or if our time here was indelibly etched in his mind? We came here after a party thrown by one of his clients in Glendale. Flirtatious laughter. Heavy necking in between double entendres volleyed back and forth. It was the foreplay leading up to our first time together. It was as I thought the beginning of a long time for us. In hindsight, it was the climax.

The reporter's voice kept creeping into my thoughts. Swindled. Did he purposefully steal or did he lose the money in a bad deal? I'd rather have him be an incompetent investor than a competent thief, if I had to choose.

Of course, the one car that was missing from my train derailment of thoughts was about the pregnancy. Denial seemed to be a great place to hang out. Better than accepting the fact that a faulty contraceptive, well, carelessness, and the cruel hand of fate conspired against me. If ever there were a time NOT to be pregnant, this would be it. Unable to wait, I went to the bathroom. When I came out, I ordered.

My hand was still shaking as I downed a glass of orange juice and nibbled on a piece of toast, hoping it wouldn't open the floodgates of nausea. I felt like everyone was staring at me and each minute passed by ever so slowly. I paid the waitress and then went outside to wait. I sat on the curb in front of the door and watched the morning traffic whiz by. My feet were tip tapping on the cement, keeping time to some song I had never heard. In lieu of my traditional uniform of pencil skirt and tailored shirt with heels, I was slumming it in a pair of black slacks and silver flats. Nothing felt right. Pants were a little snug. How long before I started showing?

We need to talk...Hi honey, my name's not really Diego - I'm a polygamist and I'm stealing money to buy a compound in Utah. A few more customers straggled in. I squinted at them as the hard sun beat down and made everything appear fantastically washed out. My hands gravitated to my necklace. My fingers brushed against it to make sure that it was still there. That some things hadn't changed. I couldn't help but wonder if the necklace would show up on a list of items to be seized by the Feds at some point. Along with the ring, and my purse, and the many other expensive trinkets Diego was fond of giving me.

The Feds swooped in, as they should have, and reclaimed all of Madoff's ill-gotten gains. How long would I be able to stay at his house? How long would it take to liquidate his assets? The morning chill had all but evaporated and a dry heat was hot on its heels. It was unusually warm. The weather couldn't make up its mind if it was spring or summer. Not that there was too much of a difference, unless you lived in the valley. Things hadn't been the same since El Niño some years back.

I rummaged in my bag and grabbed my phone. No new messages. No texts. The tap dancers in my head kicked in full blast as I continued to swim in a sea of nausea. I struggled to stand up. I stumbled back into the diner and made a beeline for the bathroom. After a not so pleasant visit with the sink, I leaned against the wall. Could I really survive nine months of random nausea? Morning sickness my ass. I glanced at my watch. If he wasn't here by now, I knew he wasn't going to show. His affinity for promptness was from being raised by a military father. No matter the occasion, he always arrived early. Always sat facing the doorway. I always believed those were just his quirks, now I couldn't help but wonder if they were something more?

I closed my eyes and took a series of short, deep breaths. I knew Diego. He wouldn't do this. I would find a way to prove them wrong. If I was scared, I could only imagine what he was going through. We'd find a way to beat this. I had to get to the one other person who could help me answer some of the questions.

* * * *

No sooner did I get onto Los Feliz Boulevard to start the slow speed chase to the office than my phone started blowing up. It was a code red at the office and unless Scottie was going to beam me up somewhere, I wouldn't be stepping foot into Savage Rhythms for another 45 minutes or longer. I was navigating three freeways and all of them had their fair share of morning commuters. Sitting in traffic, with a giant garbage bag to my right covering up the mountainside trying to contain a potential mudslide, I felt powerless.