Chapter 9: The Lobby

The reporter was young and sharp and had a ponytail so tight it lifted her eyebrows.

"Ms. Hruska," she said, and the microphone landed under my chin. "Is it true you're a paid surrogate for Gavin Brennick?"

The lobby of the Brennick Glass building has a forty-foot atrium and a marble floor, and every footstep in it echoes.

Mine were not going anywhere.

"Is it true," she said, "that you signed a contract?"

Gavin stepped in front of me.

"This interview is over."

"Gavin, let her speak," said Spencer pleasantly. "She's so good at it. She tore up a check in a diner."

I put my hand on Gavin's arm.

"It's all right," I said.

"Vera."

"I've got it."

I took the microphone out of the reporter's hand.

She was too startled to stop me.

I turned to face the camera and its red light.

The two security guards at the desk had stopped pretending not to listen.

"My name is Vera Hruska," I said. "I work at Rita's Corner Diner on Butler Street. I'm twenty-seven years old, and I'm pregnant."

The reporter's mouth opened.

"Yes, there is a clinic. Yes, there is a lawyer. A lot of couples use them every day, and I'm not ashamed of one single form."

"Couples," said the reporter. "So you are a couple."

"I'm the mother of his child," I said. "And I am not a hired anything."

"Then what is the contract?"

"The contract," I said, "says I have dinner every Sunday at Harold Brennick's table. It's in the fine print."

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