Chapter 1
Lateisha Aaron handed the woman in her car waiting outside of the drive through window her bag. Her greasy bag filled with nasty food. She didn’t think it was nasty before, when she started working here several months ago after graduation, she used to eat this food. Seeing it every day for the last three months made her want to vomit at the idea of ingesting it. Not that she was turned off from all fast food, she loved Wendy’s, but anything from the place she worked made her stomach turn. Tugging at the hair net covering her tight black curls, Lateisha moved back to the fryer to prepare the next bag for the next customer at the window. Frowning, she dumped the fries into a cardboard cup and placed them into a paper bag. Lateisha snorted, she never thought she would end up serving fast food after obtaining her Bachelor’s degree. Sighing, she passed the bag through the window and moved towards the back again. Her mother told her to go into nursing because ‘every time she checks the paper someone is looking for a nurse’. Well then why the hell didn’t anyone hire her? Biding her time at this craphole until she could find something more suitable, something she would actually enjoy, was making her crazy. It wasn’t like she wasn’t offered jobs. But who wants to clean bedpans for the elderly for three years before they get to actually do some real nursing? Her friend Becky, who she met in nursing school, found a job at the local hospital in the ER. Becky assured her that dumping bedpans was part of the job and every nurse, new or seasoned, had to do it, but Lateisha just couldn’t stand the idea. Instead, she was flipping nasty burgers and frying greasy fries. Bedpans didn’t look too bad some days, especially when she had to clean the fryers.
With a shiver of revulsion, Lateisha realized tonight was her night and almost quit on the spot, but she needed the money. She glanced at the clock, ten more minutes to her lunch break. The idea of taking a minute to sit and regroup in the break room seemed great right about now. Working six days a week in fast food was grueling and exhausting. The ten minutes flew by and Lateisha practically ran to the break room. Snatching her lunch bag from the fridge, she reclined in one of the four chairs surrounding a small round table in the corner of the small room. She pulled her phone from her purse to text Becky and realized she had an email with new job listings from the career website she had uploaded her resume to recently. She opened the email and scrolled through the jobs, vetoing each in her head as she went; too far, not enough pay, etc. Her eyes fell on an ad that seemed peculiar on a career website; Surrogate Wanted. Lateisha laughed out loud. Who listed an ad for a surrogate on a job website? Deciding to look it over anyway, just for shits and giggles, Lateisha opened the ad.
Surrogate wanted. Must be over 18, preferably single with no children, non smoker with a clean bill of health. I’m offering $30,000 to carry a baby for me. I will pay all doctor bills and living expenses, etc during the time you are pregnant. If you are interested please contact me by email at [email protected]
Lateisha laughed aloud again. Was this guy for real? It was a lot of money. Dollar signs in her eyes, Lateisha contemplated emailing him to see if he was for real or not. Could be a serial killer looking to get young women to meet him places so he could kidnap them. Then again, HenCorp was a big company, and to use their name and email in the ad to lure someone in to kill them would be stupid. Why was she even thinking about this? It was ridiculous. She didn’t want kids, never had, but maybe that’s what this guy wants. Changing her mind and keeping the baby would never happen since she didn’t want any of her own kids. This was a crazy idea. Was she really considering carrying a baby for a stranger? But thirty thousand dollars… This would take a lot of consideration. Closing her email, Lateisha ate her lunch, all the while chewing on the idea of being a surrogate.
*****
Bryce Henderson scratched his head. Why wasn’t he getting any interest in the ad he put up online? Sighing, he turned back to his computer, reading over the contract he received that morning for the newest company his business acquired. His business was a loose term of course, since after graduate school he inherited the position of owner from his father, who was more than willing to retire and move to the clichéd Florida with his new thirty-something wife and their two dogs. How his father pulled that one off he’d never know, but when Bryce’s mother died five years ago his dad became a shell of a man. Any woman who could pull him out of that funk, even if she was only a few years older than his twenty-eight years, was welcome in his family. He just hoped his father knew what he was doing.
Cracking his neck from side to side to work out the stiffness of a full days work, Bryce closed the contract document, making a note to read it further later and sign, and opened his email again in the hopes of finding a response to his ad. Bryce wanted to have a child to pass his business to, to play catch with and watch grow up, but he didn’t have time to date and he was almost thirty. The surrogacy idea came to him late one night when he was still in the office, well past everyone else. Bryce glanced out of the window from his sixteenth floor office and looked down at the city below. It was a Friday night, but there he was, working. He knew he could have been out there, at a bar or a club, meeting a woman who would become Mrs. Bryce Henderson II, but he just didn’t have the
energy for it. But he wanted a child. That he knew for certain. Suddenly the idea of surrogacy made a lot of sense. The night before he saw a news story about a woman, who was a surrogate to two children for the same couple, it was quite the story. Why couldn’t he do that and skip all of the nonsense of dating? He spoke to his lawyer the next day and put the wheels in motion, but he still needed a woman willing to use her own egg and carry the child to term. That was the part proving to be tricky. The ad was on the website for over a week and he hadn’t heard a peep of interest. Sure, it was asking a lot, but he knew there was a selfless woman out there who would do this for him eventually.
Bryce clicked the icon for his inbox, indicating he had three new messages. Two were business related and he opened those and responded accordingly. The last one made his heart speed up; someone had answered his ad. Opening his email, Bryce wiped his now sweating palms on the legs of his navy designer suit pants. This was it.
Hi Mr. Henderson.
I am a twenty-one year old, college graduate and I’m interested in your offer for a surrogate. I don’t smoke, and I have a clean bill of health. I was wondering if we could meet to discuss the conditions. I look forward to hearing from you.
Sincerely,
Lateisha Aaron
Springing into action, Bryce responded, letting the woman know that he would like to interview her the next day at three-thirty to see if she was a fit for the surrogacy. This could be it, his chance to have a child.
*****
Lateisha adjusted her blouse nervously. She wasn’t used to wearing dress clothes and the silky blouse and black slacks felt uncomfortable and stiff against her skin. Glancing in the mirror of the bathroom in the Henderson Building, Lateisha checked her teeth for remnants of Lucky Charms and smoothed her clothes once more with anxiety. Satisfied that she looked presentable, Lateisha exited the bathroom, checking the large board in the lobby for the office number and floor of Mr. Bryce Henderson. Not able to find it she headed to the information desk in the far corner, her black heels clicking on the marble tiles as she went.
“Can I help you?” A slender woman with dark hair asked, her head turning slightly sideways like a puppy as she talked.
Lateisha reigned in a laugh, clearing her throat before she spoke. “I’m wondering which floor to find Mr. Henderson?” She asked, self consciously tugging on her blouse again. Why were dress clothes so stuffy?
“And you are?” She asked, her voice trailing off.
Lateisha sighed. “Lateisha Aaron,” She answered with irritation. What was she, his personal body guard?
“Oh! Mr. Henderson is expecting you. Take the elevator all the way to the top floor. The assistant up there will help you.”
Lateisha nodded, mumbling her thanks as she clicked her way to the elevator which was on the other side of the lobby. Looking around at the lobby as she waited for the elevator car to reach her proved interesting. The lobby was fairly empty save for the woman at the information desk, the security guard by the door and the odd employee moving from here to there. The space was relatively large and impressively decorated; from the marble floors to the light cream walls. Lateisha even noticed several paintings that looked to be for sale hanging on the walls. The doors to the elevator slid open and Lateisha entered. When the doors to the elevator closed Lateisha sagged against the wall. Her feet were already protesting their confinement in the pointy toed pumps and she ached to slip them off and rub her arches. Unfortunately for her the ride to the top was rather quick, leaving her slightly queasy with the feeling of vertigo, so taking her shoes off was not an option.
Lateisha stepped from the elevator and looked around. The same color scheme and marble floors decorated the sixteenth floor. Everything screamed of wealth. Lateisha felt even more uncomfortable in her polyester dress clothes and tugged at her shirt once more. Taking a deep breath she started towards the double glass doors at the end of the hall where the elevators were located. Through the door she could see a woman with short blond hair and severe cheekbones behind a large desk. A tug at the doors indicated that they were locked. Feeling foolish, Lateisha stood there and waited for the blond woman to look up. Finally catching her eye, Lateisha motioned to the doors with her hand. A click sounded indicating the doors were unlocked and she pulled the door open and walked in. Why the woman couldn’t have done that the second she saw her step off the elevator was a mystery. She must be on a power trip, Lateisha thought with a snort.
“Can I help you?” Ms. Power Trip asked.
“I’m looking for Mr. Henderson, he’s expecting me,” Lateisha said trying to hold back the rude remark on the tip of her tongue. Of course Ms. Power Trip knew she was supposed to be there, the woman in the lobby called up.
“Right, and you are?” Power Trip asked with a note of condescension.
Lateisha frowned, biting back the comment for a second time. She needed this money and didn’t want to jeopardize it because of some bitchy receptionist.
“Lateisha Aaron. I told this all to the woman down…”