Baby For The Bear

She winced at her own words while hearing him laugh a little on his end. What did that laughter mean? Was he genuinely amused? Was he mocking her? Was he laughing at the naivete of the girl just a couple of years out of college who had no idea of what the life of someone like him was like? Should she be angry?

“It really depends, Ms. Vance. I take the time that’s appropriate for the situation. For this situation I thought a fast decision was in order because of the effect it would have on the chosen candidate’s life. If you’re going to have to rearrange your life for a thing like this, it’s better to know it sooner than later.”

Samantha bowed her head and rubbed her brow. The whole thing continued to feel like some bizarre dream, and it was one that she had invited with her desire for a quick fix to a dire problem—the problem that he had caused for her. “Right. I see what you mean,” she said.

“So, when would you like to come in?” Ken asked.

Okay, Sammie, it’s now or never. With just one word you can stop this whole crazy thing before it goes any further. You can stop this rollercoaster before it goes off the rails. Just tell him no and he’ll move on to the next woman, and she’ll be the one to get the seventy-five grand and the stipend. Just put the brakes on this whole thing.

With every intention of telling him No, thank you; I appreciate your consideration and I’m honored to be the one you want to carry your cub, but I’ve reconsidered and no, thank you, Samantha answered, “Would it be all right, considering what a big decision this is… Would it be acceptable if I had a little time to think it over?” And she shut her eyes and gritted her teeth, fully expecting him to call the whole thing off.

But instead he asked, “How much time do you need?”

At this point Samantha was sure without having a mirror in the kitchen that she was turning ghostly pale. Oh my God, he actually wants to let me think about it? She was ready to stammer out an answer, but she made her voice grow steady. No matter what kind of spot she felt herself in, she was not prepared to sit here stammering at a billionaire. “Would…a day be all right? Twenty-four hours?”

Feeling herself on the edge of a cliff, she awaited his answer.

“Twenty-four hours. I can do that. Call me back twenty-four hours from now; use the number for Pamela’s desk. I’ll look forward to hearing from you.”

The tension drained out of Samantha’s body. Her muscles relaxed; the hot and cold feelings running through her turned to normal; her breathing became regular again. She had bought herself a reprieve of sorts.

“Thank you, Mr. Brecker. I’ll be in touch…this time tomorrow.”

“Very good, Ms. Vance. Until then.”

“Until then. G-good…goodbye.”

And they ended the call.

Samantha put the phone back on the kitchen counter and stepped back to the table, sitting down in front of her unfinished bacon, the scrambled egg whites and toast and OJ that she had not yet even touched. She reached for another piece of bacon. That would be the first thing to go. Munching it, comforted by the taste of it, she was alone with the question repeating in her head: What am I going to do?

In his office, Ken leaned back in his seat and contemplated the discussion he’d just had with the beautiful twenty-four-year-old blonde. He’d said he wanted to offer her “the position.” Ordinarily there were any number of “positions” that Ken would have in mind for someone like Samantha.

Softly, he said, “Come on, Samantha. Take the deal. Just take it…”