Fate Interrupted (Fate Interrupted #1)

Fate Interrupted (Fate Interrupted #1) Page 9

Dean stared at the open folder on his desk, his eyes blurring the words together until they formed a fuzzy block of unintelligible letters. His finger spun a pen on the desk's slick surface, his thoughts leaving the office in a hot air balloon and sailing off with the wind. He wondered if there was an old family curse he wasn't aware of. Maybe his great, great grandpa had made one too many promises to a secret lover, scorning her into cursing his children and their children and so on until the end of time.

Dean spun the pen again and watched it blur like a rotating helicopter blade.

"Dean?"

His eyes snapped to the black phone on his desk. He hesitated before reaching out and pressing a button. "Yes, Gina?"

"There is a Clayton Crawford here to see you."

His eyebrows dipped together as he scanned his mental rolodex. He flipped to the calendar on his iPad and came up empty. No appointments.

"Megan Crawford's father."

Dean tried to swallow the lump in his throat but it wouldn't budge. He whispered a swear word and pressed the button again. "Send him in," he said, slapping the folder shut and sliding an open package of peanut butter M&Ms into a desk drawer. He ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing pulse. Just when he thought things couldn't possibly get any worse...

The door clicked open and Gina greeted him with an arched eyebrow, the unscheduled appointment lurking just behind her. The tall man in a tailored suit smiled at her as he whisked past, entering Dean's office with a confident stride. "Hello Dean," he smiled warmly, extending his hand with his fingers splayed. "Clayton Crawford."

Dean got up on rubbery legs and rounded the desk, accepting the man's firm grip and admiring the way his ice blue eyes set off his distinguished head of gray hair. "Dean Jacobs. Have a seat." He gestured to the two chairs in front of the desk and smiled at Gina. "Thank you, Gina."

She stared blankly at him for a few seconds before slowly shutting the door and leaving them alone. Clayton sat down and Dean returned to the high back chair behind the desk. The leather creaked as Dean sat down and quietly exhaled a pent-up breath. Clayton crossed his legs like a girl and folded his hands on one knee, smiling at Dean from across the desk. A wall clock ticked off audible seconds that seemed louder with each successive click. They held each others' gaze, no one willing to commit to speaking first. A foreboding cloud of gloom rolled through the pit of Dean's stomach. He could feel sweat forming across his upper lip and hoped Clayton didn't notice. Dean shifted in his chair. Another loud groan pierced the awkward silence between them as Clayton's expensive cologne washed over Dean like a swarm of angry insects burrowing into every orifice they could find.

"I apologize for the pop-in; I hope I didn't catch you at a bad time."

Dean shook his head, working to maintain a polite smile. "I'm in between meetings."

A grin tugged at the corner of Clayton's mouth. His eyes wandered the office, taking in the generic paintings, framed degrees, and thick law books lining two walls. "Marquette huh?"

Dean pressed his lips together and nodded.

"Great school. What kind of law do you practice, Dean?"

"Corporate."

Clay tipped his head back and nodded. "Your parents must be very proud."

Dean rested his elbows on the desk and interlocked his fingers together. "What can I do for you, Mr. Crawford?"

"Please, call me Clay," he replied, adjusting the lavender necktie that matched the silk handkerchief peeking over a breast pocket. "Mr. Crawford was my father," he said with a poster boy smile.

Dean didn't respond.

Clay took a deep breath. "After Megan's little bombshell, I just wanted to stop by and introduce myself. I know this isn't easy for any of us."

The word us made Dean cringe inside, but he managed to remain unreadable.

"She can certainly be a handful at times, no one knows that better than I, but I just wanted to tell you how much I appreciate what you said to her last night. It was especially comforting for her mother, who, as you can imagine, is just beside herself right now." His cold gaze tightened. "The sky is always falling with her," he said, a tight-lipped smile spreading across his tanned face.

Dean swallowed dryly, trying to figure out which part of last night's horrific conversation Megan's mother had found so comforting.

"It was a very kind gesture on your part offering to stand by her throughout this...sordid affair."

Dean almost laughed out loud but managed to swallow it. He spread his palms apart on the desk. "Well, I'll be glad to do whatever I can."

Clay nodded, weighing Dean's words with patient care. He glanced at a picture of Dean and Evy on a bookshelf and jerked his strong chin to it. "Is that the girlfriend Megan was telling us about?"

Dean's breath hitched. The clock ticked louder, launching the onset of a sharp headache near his brainstem. The last thing he wanted was to drag Evy any further into this mess than he had to. He followed Clay's curious gaze to the framed shot of he and Evy's smiling faces inside Miller Park, where the Brewers were adding to a three run lead against the Chicago Cubs in the background. He turned back to Clay and replied with a faint nod.

"Pretty girl."

"Thank you."

"So how does she feel about all of this?" Clay asked with a sinister grin that made Dean sweat. "I imagine it must be very difficult."

"It sounds like you've already got enough to worry about."

Clay raised his brow. "I suppose you're right. I'll have some tickets sent over," he said with a wink. "Megan isn't the biggest fan of baseball in the world but she does enjoy going to the games."

An eerie stillness swept over the room, cloaking them in a period of unease the clock ticked off one painstaking second at a time.

"Listen, Dean, I want you to know it takes a real man to make certain sacrifices in order to live up to his responsibilities, and I admire that about you. I really do."

Dean honed his gaze, a gnawing feeling eating away at his nerves. He resisted the urge to wipe the sweat from his upper lip as Clay grinned at him.

Clay flicked his wrist out and checked a Rolex crafted from gun metal. He exhaled a tired breath and slapped a hand on the desk, making Dean flinch. "Well, I just wanted to introduce myself and say thank you for being so understanding about this whole...situation." A forced smile cut across his toned cheeks. "We'll get through it."

Dean got up from his chair when Clay did, eager as hell for this man that smelled of designer cologne and classy cigars to leave his office.

Clay extended a hand and that million dollar smile. "Nice to meet you, Dean," he said, shaking Dean's hand with a sturdy grip. The clock ticked and Clay turned for the door, not moving nearly fast enough in Dean's mind.

Clay gripped the doorknob and turned back to Dean, pinching his cold eyes together. "Oh, before I forget, would you be able to take Megan to an ultrasound check up tomorrow morning? Her mother and I will be at a rally up north all day and Nancy would feel a lot better knowing you were with her." He smiled warmly at Dean. "Hearing your child's heartbeat for the first time really is the most precious moment of your life."

A band of moths cranked up in Dean's stomach, stealing his breath. He had been seconds away from getting out of this horror show and now he was seconds away from getting sucked in even deeper. "Sure," he said dully, the color leaving his face.

Clay smiled brightly. "Great. I'll tell Megan to call you with the specifics."

Dean stared at him, his brain already scrambling for a way out as Clay finally pulled the door open and headed back the way he came.

Dean mopped the sweat from his lip with his hand, refusing to believe any of this was actually happening. He hated Megan for bringing this angry cloud over his world, a world that had been shining like an angel's halo on a bright spring morning.

Gina appeared in the doorway and Dean barely noticed the way her nipples were poking through her satiny black top. The frown gripping her face was another story.

"Who the hell is Megan?"

His shoulders slumped. "No one," he said, grabbing his cell phone and keys from the desk.

"Before you leave, Mr. Whitmore would like to see you in his office."

An exhausted sigh hissed from his lips. He stared at the folder on his desk, Clay's words assaulting his every turn. "Why?"

Gina shrugged. "Don't kill the messenger," she said flatly, heading back to her post up front.

He stared at the plaques on the wall, blurring them into meaningless pieces of framed paper. Everything was hollow now, filled with no significance, tainted from a new reality he still dared to believe. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to imagine what his boss could possibly want. Whatever it was, Dean was sure he would have a hard time paying attention. He straightened his coat and practiced his smile in the reflection of his iPad before leaving his office.

The parking lot was nearly deserted and that was a good sign. Dean needed a plan of action and needed it fast. A bell rang when he pushed the glass door open and stepped inside, the smell of sanitizer and a Glade plug-in mixing in his lungs. The empty waiting room was a sight for sore eyes, confirming the barren lot outside.

"Well, hello, Dean!"

A courteous smile wiggled through his unshaven face. "Hi, Marie."

"I thought your cleaning was next week."

"It is," he said, leaning against the moon-shaped front desk. "Is Shaun free?"

She stared blankly at him for a moment, waiting for him to elaborate. When he didn't she picked up a black phone. "Let me check," she said, punching some buttons and putting the phone to her ear. "He should be finishing up a root canal."

"Thanks."

Bob Segar's Turn the Page oozed from the recessed speakers in the ceiling, serenading Dean with a mournful saxophone that mirrored his drained disposition in perfect harmony. His eyes wandered out a nearby window overlooking a small wooded area, where Clay's words lurked in the shadows, waiting for him to leave. He winced, realizing how close he had come to having it all.

"Doctor Morris, Dean is here to see you up front." Marie chewed on the tip of a pen as she listened, watching Dean with the phone pressed against her ear. "No, Dean Martin," she laughed. "Of course Dean Jacobs." She rolled her eyes and smiled. "Okay, I'll tell him," she said in a light voice, hanging up. "He'll be right out."

"He really makes you call him doctor?"

She leaned back in her chair and let out a short laugh. "Dentists are doctors, Dean, don't you know that?" She leaned forward and lowered her voice. "And don't you dare try telling him any different or he'll take it out on my Christmas bonus."

Dean chuckled and took a seat in the waiting room, eager to avoid any further small talk. He sat down with a tired sigh and picked up a curled issue of People magazine with Kate Middleton's pretty face splashed across the coffee-ringed cover.

"So how have you been?"

A cringe wormed through him like an invasive Amazonian species. He looked up to Marie's rosy face and tried on a smile that didn't fit. "Good. Busy with work but in this economy that's not a bad thing."

She pulled her multi-colored smock out from under her belly and swiveled towards him in the chair. A loud squeak punctured the quiet around them. "So has a lucky woman finally snatched you off the market yet?"

He opened his mouth just as Shaun burst through a metal door with a narrow window. He wore dark blue scrubs with a pair of glasses hanging around his neck and a surprised look on his face. "What is up, big baller!" he said, holding the door open and nodding to the back. "Come on back."

Dean set the magazine down and got up, thankful for the rescue. He smiled at Marie and thanked her again.

Shaun let the door close behind them. "Well, this is a nice surprise."

"I catch you at a bad time?"

"Not anymore," Shaun replied, leading him into a spacious corner office. He shut the door and took a seat behind a large mahogany desk. "Just finished up a root canal on a sixty-five year old cat lady and now I'm covered in cat hair and bone fragment."

Dean took a seat in an armchair facing the cluttered desk, his face souring. "Lucky you."

Shaun rested his elbows on the desk. "I can't get clean, Dean," he said softly, rubbing his hands together. "No matter how hard I scrub, I can't get clean." He took a pensive breath. "Although, this new hottie that rolled in here this morning almost made up for the cat lady."

Dean lifted his brow.

"You should've seen her," Shaun grinned. "Huge tits! Just what the doctor ordered, too. More hot chicks and less screaming kids. I get enough of that crap at home."

A thin smile spread Dean's lips.

Shaun cleared his throat and studied Dean, picking up on his silence. "Listen to me going on and on about my problems when you look like shit."

"Thanks."

Shaun opened a cabinet behind him and took out a small mask with a plastic tube running to a silver canister lying on its side.

"You want some gas?"

Dean held up a hand. "I want a plan."

Shaun shrugged. "I thought we went over this last night," he said, returning the mask and turning back to face Dean.

"Megan's dad popped into my office today."

Shaun's jaw hit the desk with a dull thud. "What? Why?"

"Said he wanted to introduce himself and tell me how much he and his wife appreciate my offer to help out with Megan's pregnancy."

Shaun's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. "Offer? Why would you do that?"

"It was an empty gesture!"

"Oh my God," Shaun said faintly, opening a bottom desk drawer and retrieving a bottle of scotch.

"Yeah and get this, the guy is an alderman running for mayor  -  Clay Crawford. Ever heard of him?"

"I don't follow local politics. The national stuff is boring enough as it is."

"Anyway, he and his wife are going to be out of town tomorrow at some campaign rally and he wants me to drive her to a doctor's appointment in the morning."

Shaun pulled two rocks glasses from the same drawer without taking his eyes from Dean. "Shut the hell up."

"I'm not even kidding."

Shaun poured a finger's worth of the golden liquid into each glass and slid one across the desk to Dean. "Well, this isn't going to get you back into Evy's panties."

"Tell me about it," Dean snorted. "It's just one thing after another at this point."

Shaun raised his glass. "Here's to life's curveballs."

Dean stared at him without moving.

Shaun bobbed his eyebrows and took a sip that made him wince. "It's a test."

"How?"

"She probably has a million friends who could take her to the doctor tomorrow, or at least an aunt or something. He just wants to see if you'll do it."

Two women laughed in the hallway just outside the door, coating Dean's nerves with an underlying tone of irritation. Their carefree attitudes made him jealous. He was so far from that kind of lackadaisical communication it was scary.

He shifted in the chair. "So what's he going to do if I don't show up tomorrow? Stop my building's garbage collection?"

"You never know. Those small time politicians are ego-driven maniacs, who love to flaunt their pull."

Dean's eyebrows drew together as he took a sip of his drink, immediately regretting it as Fleetwood Mac's Rhiannon drifted down from above.

Shaun set his glass on the desk and licked his lips. "Skip the doctor thing tomorrow. You start getting in deep now and you'll never get back out. It's like quicksand. Like I told you last night, you don't even know that A) she's really pregnant, or B) it's yours."

Another flourish of laughter out in the hall caused Dean to imagine people eavesdropping with water glasses pressed to the door.

Shaun lowered his voice. "Trust me, bro, this guy's just trying to intimidate you into doing what he wants, but you have to push back. If you don't, you're going to end up a Lamaze partner."

A short laugh surprised Dean when it broke from his lips.

"Are you going to tell Evy about this Clay guy?"

"She won't talk to me, so I doubt it."

Shaun took a thoughtful sip and released a heated breath. "This is all going to work itself out. Trust me, this Megan girl just wants to sink her teeth into a successful guy so she never has to work a day in her life. I've seen it a million times before. Her dad has nothing to do with this."

"You want to hear something really funny?"

Shaun lifted his brow.

"Whitmore just made me partner."

An eerie silence fell between them.

Shaun stared at Dean with his jaw dangling in the sterilized air. "Are you serious?"

"Who says timing isn't everything, huh?"

"That's incredible, man. Congratulations!"

Dean snorted and checked his cell.

Shaun's brow creased. "You don't even care, do you?"

Dean took another sip of the scotch and grimaced with the burn.

Shaun exhaled slowly. "You just stick to the plan. Blow this Megan chick off tomorrow morning and show em who's boss." He took a quick drink and shrugged. "What's the worst that can happen?"