Stricken Unveiled (Stricken Rock #2) by S.K. Logsdon Page A

the the arches of his feet. For a man his feet a
gorgeous. And we both lay on the couch all night long talking and
watching more Friends. Which turns out he loves almost as much as I
do. I love Joey and Phoebe. He’s a Ross and Rachel fan. Romantic at
heart? I think so. Mr. James rough and tough has a soft interior.
If a woman commenting about his feet twelve years ago has shaped
him into the man he is today. I can’t image what other things are
lurking under the surface. As long as Stacy or Johnathan doesn’t
fire James or have him bodyguard for somebody else I will have
plenty of time to get to know him. He’ll be my manly version of
Stacy. Except that this one likes Friends. Stacy hates the show and
most sitcoms. Boo Stacy!
     

Chapter
Nine
     
    “Emily get up. Get up Em.” A familiar voice
says softly pushing my side to wake me.
    I open my eyes and reach above my head for a
good stretch. I can feel all my muscles pull and damn it feels
nice.
    “Hi Stace.” I smile wide with my sleepy
morning eyes.
    “I let you sleep in crazy woman. It’s ten. We
should probably head out in fifteen to get Johnathan. The group of
news people will be staked out so it could take a bit to weed
through the gate.”
    I sit up and stretch some more, cleaning the
sleep out of my eyes. I toss back the covers, slip out of bed and I
already feel like dog shit. Two rather good days and Monday morning
rolls around and I feel like I’ve been dumped into a vat of suck . It’s awful. I’m going to finally have to face the
music, quite literally. He’s going to be all happy to leave and
then the big bunch of us fuckers are going to rain all over his
parade. I wish he could get one day out of rehab without finding
out. I know he needs to know. Just like he needs to know about our
babies, but I don’t see why one day of freedom back into the world
is too much to ask. Apparently, it is though. The stupid media
never sleep, they’re like a bunch of rabid dogs fighting over who
can get the first picture, the first exclusive...
etcetera…etcetera…etcetera.
    “So what were you doing last night?” I ask
Stace who’s sitting on my bed, I’m going through my closet to find
an outfit that hides my tummy but makes me sexy enough to see
Johnathan for the first time in over a month.
    “Seriously? I was hashing over late night
with Johnathan’s lawyer and Cassandra’s new lawyer through
videoconferencing. Kind of a last minute thing I requested before
today.”
    “What!” I shriek, whipping around quickly and
adverting all my attention to him. This doesn’t sound good. Not
good at all.
    “Yeah, well since she claims the baby is
Johnathan’s there’s a lot of be hashed out.” He runs his hair
through his hair, looking overly stressed.
    “You mean money? The woman wants money?”
    Son of a bitch! How could I have been so
naive to not have seen this coming from a mile away or a whole
country away, as it is? Of course she’d want money and probably
lots of it. Jesus, how much will Johnathan be forced her pay her in
child support? Since it goes by income hers will skyrocket into the
thousand’s a month. I’m glad I’m not like that. I could care less
if Johnathan pays me a damn cent for my kids. I was going to keep
them regardless. So why in the world should he have to pay an
obscene amount of money to me? I can see normal support like
average blue collar working Americans pay, but not ten grand a
month. That’s a fucking car! Anybody who needs that kind of money
to survive and raise child monthly, needs admitted into a mental
hospital, like yesterday.
    “Of course she does. We’re also paying her
for the rights to the photos that were taken with her cellphone.
And we have to establish boundaries in writing. So she can’t be
interrupting Johnathan’s life whenever it tickles her fancy. It’s
just a lot of paperwork to be drawn up and big fat checks to be
written.”
    “Why in the world would someone do that?
Seriously, Stace. Why