Sold Short (Sidelined Book 3) Read online

  “When did a Gallo ever spend time waiting around?” said Dad.

  “It’s not our strong point. He’s got us there, Ro,” said Mum. “Darling, this is a big thing.”

  “I don’t see it that way. If I was a single mom struggling to feed, clothe and house myself, it’d be monstrously big, maybe even irresponsible. But that’s not my life. I’ve been lucky and I don’t have to wait, I can plan this and I can build in the help I’m going to need.”

  “You’re going to hand the kid off to a nanny,” Ro sneered. She alone hated this idea; not a surprise, they’d been rivals most of their lives, and Ro had admitted being jealous of Plus. Parenthood would look like Sarina had earned another outstanding achievement award to Ro.

  “I’ll have a nanny, but I was hoping I’d have grandparents and a sister too.”

  Dad, who was around the other side of the island with his arms around Mom, said, “Of course you do.”

  “Two for one granddad offer,” said Brian. He exchanged a confirming look with Dad.

  “I realize it’s a shock. I only just warmed up to the idea myself. I thought I had to do the traditional find a partner, have a baby routine.” She looked at her family and stifled a laugh. Why she’d thought that was a mystery. “Once I figured out I had other options, I talked to the guys and—”

  “One of them is the donor,” Ro shouted.

  “No.” She glared at Ro. “We worked out that it would be good for me and the business if I got pregnant in the next six to twelve months.”

  “That’s soon,” said Mum.

  “What’s the point in waiting?”

  “Who is the donor?” said Dad.

  “There’s no donor yet. I have to go through that process, pick a sperm bank and select a donor and—”

  “Why wouldn’t you ask one of the guys?” Dad again.

  She gave a cough of shock. Because that was ludicrous. “Because no. Absolutely not.”

  “That’s not an answer. Three of the brightest minds in the Valley, with no notable genetic health issues and traceable family histories and—”

  “You’re not serious?”

  “I am, doll,” said Dad.

  “They’ve all kept their hair,” said Mom.

  “We’re business partners.”

  “You could have a honey-skinned baby with Dev,” said Ro.

  Wheatish was the word for the color of Dev’s skin, not honey. She turned on Ro. “I’m not having a baby with Dev.” That Ro had singled him out made her feel squicky, like she’d eaten tainted food. And his straighty one-eighty family, they’d flip out at the idea.

  “Doll, you’re not only business partners,” said Dad. “Those three would do anything for you, and you obviously know how to work closely with them. You could have a contract if you don’t want help parenting.”

  “You could have them each donate and randomize it.”

  She made the word, “Mom,” come out of her mouth, it sounded like a dying cow. Why couldn’t they see this was a terrible idea for so many reasons, not least the never mix business with family principle?

  “I’m just saying you could,” Mom said. “Women go out to bars and trap men into getting them pregnant, how’s this any worse?”

  “It’s nothing like that. No one is going to be exploited here, that’s the whole point of using a donor. No ties, no stress.” Unlike the stress she was feeling now. It made her hunger turn rabid and the juices in her stomach eat into her organs. If this kept up she might need a donor herself.

  “No, you’re right, sorry, but your father has a point. You’re surrounded by good-looking, healthy men.”

  “Three of the sharpest brains in the Valley,” said Dad.

  “Who respect and care for you,” said Brian.

  “Who are not, under any circumstance, fathering my child. Owen and Reid both have steady relationships, Dev too. They’ll have their own families.”

  All she got for her trouble with that statement was laughter from everyone but Fab, who looked longingly down the hall toward the front door. They’d moved straight past the shock of what she wanted into the details.

  “We’re just saying,” said Mom. “I can’t help imagining what a child of yours and Dev’s would look like. Great hair and those eyes of his. He’s so handsome.”

  Sarina scrunched her own eyes because now this was out there she couldn’t stop thinking about it and it was unsettling. “You’re okay about being grandparents?”

  Big smiles all round and Brian was bleary-eyed. He didn’t have other family, so this would’ve meant a lot to him, to be included. Mom kept patting his hand.

  “I will rock as an evil axis of aunty,” said Ro. “Kid’s first illicit substance is on me.”

  “Less of the evil, more of the yes, I’ll mind the baby, Ro,” said Mom. She came around the island bench and took Sarina’s chin in her hand. “I’m going to be a grandma, but we need to find a different name for me, less, er, less . . .”

  “Senior citizen sounding,” said Dad.

  “More groovy,” said Brian.

  “Yes,” said Mom.

  And that’s all Sarina needed to hear. She even managed to stop her stomach lining attacking her body to focus on food and enjoy the meal. All in all, her announcement day had gone well, the only shadows being Ro and Dev. Ro would get over herself and Dev . . .

  She tried not to be disappointed there was still no message from Dev, and Gita wasn’t hogging a parking space in her drive when she got home.

  And the fact that she went from elation to too tired to stand up, as she momentarily confused a stack of pillows on the couch for his sleeping form, was an indication of how the emotion of the day and the strain of the past few months leading to this decision had drained her.

  It would get easier from here, because she had a plan, but it would be better if she had her best friend beside her while she executed it.

  EIGHT

  Dev slept badly and dozed through his two alarms, which meant he was late to the office and Fridays were his favorite day. On Fridays his development team had playtime, and as long as they were up to date on business-critical needs, could make other vaguely Plus-related stuff happen. Like develop new interfaces, widgets or apps, the best of which went on to be incorporated in the business, or to play around with what was their newest obsession—robotics.

  They were currently trying to program a human-sized Lego robot called Leonard to play the Phil Collin’s drum solo from “In the Air Tonight.”

  That’d meant building the programmable robot and an electronic drum kit.

  Because why not.

  It’s not like they were making a baby that was going to need taking care of for the rest of its life. Leonard would eventually get the beat right and after everyone got bored, he’d end up parked by someone’s desk as a trophy on his way to the junk room on level two, where things Reid had broken in the office went to hang out.

  A baby was no trophy and no science project, but that’s the way Sarina was approaching it, like it was an achievement to unlock, a milestone to reach, a barrier to blow past. You didn’t make a baby that way, it wasn’t a group project based on acquiring new skills. You made a baby from commitment, from a place of joy and hope and love.

  And you couldn’t just get bored with a baby when it got difficult. There was no upgrade with a baby. You couldn’t decide to change direction and make a better one, or lose interest all together and forget about it in some dusty corner. They had a name for that—child abuse.

  Dev hadn’t slept because he’d been churning these thoughts all night. The fact Sarina didn’t try to contact him grated harder than it should. He wasn’t enjoying this Friday and he wouldn’t until he spoke to her. But Friday’s were her classroom day, when she ran training sessions or workshops, and he wasn’t going to be able to get near her until the afternoon.

  That didn’t mean he was above lurking in corridors where he knew she’d be. It was passive-aggressive gatecrashing, but what the heck
. Of course, lurking and making eye contact with her through a glass wall wasn’t the same as having her full attention.

  So far, by standing outside the room in which she was running a team exercise where people had to build a tower out of uncooked spaghetti, Blu Tack and thread, he’d gotten a smile and a wave that didn’t go anywhere near making him feel less aggravated. He’d almost backed Gita into a pole this morning. That’s how aggravated he was.

  Shush had seen it the moment he’d dumped groceries on her kitchen counter last night. She’d left the room and come back wearing pants, which told him he wouldn’t be staying long and that was probably the best decision he’d had made for him all day. Letting this distance with Sarina happen was the worst, and now he wanted it over with before he did something else he might regret, like ape Reid and burst into her session with no regard for her needs.

  Because in a way he’d already done that. Yesterday he’d acted like a robotic turd, banging on about his own feelings and not fully understanding hers. He wasn’t going to be able to change her mind if she was like the groups in that training session. They were all competing to make the biggest tower the same way and finding their spaghetti stock kept breaking into smaller and smaller pieces. He needed to convince her there was another approach.

  If only he’d figured out what that was, because he had to acknowledge the idea of Sarina on the prowl for a partner to breed with felt like driving Gita over a cliff.

  Month of Sundays, this was life and death.

  He pulled the door open and went into the meeting room, eyes to Sarina. “Can I talk to you?”

  Two hundred and ten thousand eyes to him, that’s what it felt like, though there were only about thirty new recruits in the room.

  “Kinda busy here, Dev.” She put more distance between them, moving toward the back of the room.

  Not good. This always worked for Reid. “Please?”

  Up came her eyes. He’d blown this. Reid never said please, rarely remembered thank you, somehow got away with it without taking an axe between the shoulders. Dev didn’t have Reid’s excited bluster or his appalling charm. He had a hot face and hands jammed so deep in his chino pockets he felt a stitch give.

  “We’ll take a coffee break when we get a winner here.” Sarina clapped her hands twice. “You’ve got fifteen minutes, everyone.”

  “What’s the objective?” he said to the room in general.

  He got back, “Build the biggest tower.”

  They were doing a dumbass job. None of their constructions would stand up without someone lending a finger. They were patching and knotting and spying on each other’s efforts and not paying attention to the fragility and flexibility of the spaghetti lengths and how they snapped under pressure. One after another group tried and failed to get a tower to stand. He didn’t want to wait here awkwardly for fifteen minutes, that was forever.

  While Sarina wasn’t watching, he wandered, casual as a spam attack, over to the nearest group and said, “Ever been to Paris.”

  The one female team member rolled her eyes, “I told you we should build the Eiffel Tower.”

  “And we said it wasn’t tall enough, Emma,” said the guy beside her with a weary, how many times do you need to be told sigh. He was obviously the elected team leader in this simulation, and a dick.

  “Guys always think it’s about size,” Emma said, frustration giving her voice a why do I bother edge.

  Dev laughed and held a hand up, palm flat. They all stared at him until he connected the high-five with Emma’s hesitantly raised hand, and then as a team they scrambled to build the only spaghetti tower that would stand up and support its own weight.

  They had themselves a winner.

  And Dev had an emptying room and Sarina’s attention, the potential for it anyway. He waited until the last new hire left, hoping she’d abandon the back of the room. Hoping she’d quit pretending to be busy, shuffling paper. “Hi.”

  She stayed half a room away, acres of desks in team configurations between them. “Hi.” She finally met his eyes. “Did you happen to help that team cheat?”

  “I helped the men appreciate bigger is not always better, so yeah, I helped them win.”

  “You look,” they both began.

  “Tired,” Sarina got out.

  He rubbed his eyes, which made his eyelids go up a grade of sandpaper to baked barbed-wire bits. Sarina looked like she always did, like nothing could bother her, like everything happened for a reason and she could deal with that on her own. If what anyone else thought of her choices kept her up at night, she didn’t show it. “Can we talk about yesterday?”

  “Sure, but not now. They’ll be back.”

  “I want to—” he said, at the same time as she said, “I thought you might—”

  They stared at each other and then she turned her face away, sweeping her hand over the table closest to gather broken spaghetti pieces. He stood, watching her avoid him and wanting to spaghetti-shank himself in the head. In less than a day they’d gone from soul mates to strangers.

  No, not soul mates, but something like that, necessary friends, or codependent colleagues, not strangers, never strangers, because he could fix this.

  “I was—”

  “You were shocked. I get that, and hurt I didn’t tell you first.” She looked up and caught him mid wriggle of annoyance at being called out. “And then you were judgmental and you didn’t even try to talk to me yesterday.” And that clamped his teeth together so hard his jaw creaked. “I need you with me on this.”

  “Then why did you keep me in the dark?” There it was, the spear pulled out of his gut, the blood flowing freely now.

  “Because I knew you wouldn’t be on my side.”

  “I’m on your side.”

  He got his first smile and it was healing.

  “You do support me?”

  Her doubt was an invisible wall standing between them. “I—” He lost the sentence as she moved toward him. She looked beautiful, like she always did. No lipstick. He wanted to hug her. Pull her into his chest and pretend things weren’t going to change for them.

  She stopped out of reach. “See, you come from the happiest, most functional family in the entire world, but it’s traditional too. No lovers, no lesbian sisters. I get why you’d hate this.”

  “It’s got nothing to do with my family. A baby isn’t a science project. And using an escort isn’t a staging server for a different life.”

  Hand to her chest, her cheeks flushed. “Is that what you think?”

  “I think we need to talk. I was a jackass and I’m sorry about how I reacted.”

  “I could’ve told you I was thinking about it.”

  “A heads-up would’ve been useful.” If he’d had a heads-up they wouldn’t be here, broken spaghetti, spilled blood and torn friendship that was a physical thing, hanging in the room between them like a shroud covering ugly no one wanted to see.

  “But I can tell it wouldn’t have made much difference.”

  “Like I said, jackass, jerk, dick,” but not going to walk away from this. “You took advice from a paid escort. Were you with him last night?” And not intending to ask that question but there it was, and it was brutal in its offense, making Sarina’s eyes shutter and her body stiffen.

  “You think—” She took a step back, her eyes went to the open door and the corridor beyond. They still had the place to themselves. “Oh, I don’t believe it.”

  There had to be a magnetized plate under the floor and magnets on his shoes because he was fixed in place when he should’ve been at her side. “I went to your place last night. Lights on, nobody home.”

  “And your first thought was Sarina is out having sex with a prostitute on the day she announced she wanted to be pregnant. Jesus, Dev.”

  They stared at each other. She said, “We can’t have this conversation now, I’m obviously busy, and anyway, I think Shush is a great girl. You suit each other.”

  “Why, because we’re both f
irst generation Americans? Because we both have colored skin and our families want it to happen?” Not possible for him to have sounded more bitter, less like a person you’d want to have any conversation with.

  “No, because she’s lovely.”

  “But we’re not serious.” This wasn’t what he came here to talk about.

  “You’re sleeping with her.”

  He checked the corridor. Still clear.

  “You know where I live, Dev.”

  “Will you be there?”

  “Will you?”

  He wished it was tonight in her home, just the two of them and the time to get past the hurt and back to where they were meant to be, believing in each other. “Of course.”

  She nodded as the corridor filled with course participants. A dreadlocked head poked inside. “Is it okay to come back?”

  “Absolutely, in you come,” Sarina was all smiles. “Dev is leaving.” But she gave him a look like he’d already gone.

  It wasn’t until he got back to his desk he remembered Tavish’s birthday dinner. He was supposed to be hosting, cooking, and he’d forgotten about it entirely until he confronted his calendar. Shit. New plan. The Patels and Singhs were going out tonight. Jade Palace, his and Sarina’s favorite Chinese. He hit up various message services to contact everyone.

  And after dinner he’d see Sarina. They’d talk face to face and clear all these misunderstandings up, be back on the same team again, where they belonged.

  He sent Sarina an email. I have a family thing I’d forgotten about. I’ll be late. Eat without me.

  He didn’t hear back, but when she was training she gave it her undivided attention.

  He managed to get to the restaurant on time, a whole minute before the birthday boy, Tavish Singh, walked in with his older by six months—he’d say it at least twice during the course of the night, like he did every year—wife, Nita. “Happy birthday. I’m sorry for the change of plans.” Dev gave the waiter a wave and pulled out Nita’s chair. “They do a very good banquet here.”

  “Ah, doesn’t matter where we eat, so long as we all get together, yaar,” said Tavish.