23. Chapter Twenty-Three ~ Chris
Chapter Twenty-Three ~ Chris
“We need to talk.”
There’s no preamble to her statement, though the fact that she’s here should tell me enough about how she’s feeling. Mom doesn’t set foot in the club. Ever. But here she is today, striding in like she owns the place.
“Hello to you, too. What is it you need?” I ask, reclining back in my seat.
She drops a stack of papers onto my desk but I’m still watching her. Still waiting.
“Do you know what those are?” she asks, gesturing to my desk with a tone that’s, by turns, indignant and frustrated.
A quick glance tells me what I need to know. “Financial statements. Tax returns. I assume you didn’t come all the way here so I could review your taxes and finances with you. That’s something you’d go over with the accountant.”
“Don’t be glib, Christian,” she retorts and I continue to wait. “Those finances are for your new girlfriend.” She says the word like it leaves a bad taste in her mouth and my eyes narrow. Just a few days ago she was raving about Emma. What has suddenly changed that she doesn’t like her?
This time it’s her turn to be silent and so I reluctantly glance down at the papers before me. “What’s so important about this? Why did you look into her finances?”
“I was curious, Christian. About the woman you’re going to be having a baby with. I wanted to make sure that you weren’t getting in over your head with this girl.”
“Mom, she’s carrying my baby. I think the time for your particular brand of ‘vetting’ has passed.”
“Not necessarily. Not when you see this.”
“I don’t understand why I’m looking at her financials. Why does that matter?”
“Do you see that income amount, Christian?”
“Yes. I see it.” I look up to meet her gaze, evenly. “That’s what I pay her, Mom. She works here.”
“Here? You met that girl at your club? So you knew she was just some gold digging stripper from the start?” She’s furious now but I’m not exactly happy myself.
“First of all, Emma is not a stripper. She’s not even a dancer. She’s a waitress. And second, we’ve discussed this many times, Mom, we don’t have strippers at the club.”
“Of course, they’re not showing themselves off in those skimpy things you call costumes.” Her tone is sarcastic and I sigh, running a hand through my hair.
This is a conversation we’ve had several times before and I’m not interested in having it again. I am interested in the fact that there’s a second set of tax returns under Emma’s. Ones that are significantly lower than hers. And there are other documents too.
Bills.
Past due bills.
An eviction notice.
Then some payments that look like they cleared up the notice.
A mortgage statement that shows a house with a value lower than I’ve ever seen and I flash back to the shabby little house that she went to in West End.
But I’m not going to give my mother the satisfaction of knowing that this is all news to me. That these documents, which are presumably about Emma and her family, are something new in any way.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” I ask, gesturing to the documents.
“That girl is beneath you, Christian. She’s not worth it.”
“Not worth what? Not worth being with? I like her, Mom.”
“You like her,” she shakes her head. “That’s even more unfortunate because it seems obvious to me that she’s using you. Look at this, Christian. She’s poor. Dirt poor. Lower than dirt poor. That house in West End is worth practically nothing. They can barely give it away.”
“I would assume they don’t want to. They’re living there,” I retort and her eyes flash in irritation.
“She’s not right for you.”
“She’s carrying my baby, Mom.”
“Are you sure it’s your baby?” My eyes widen and my mouth drops open at her words. That part I wasn’t expecting.
“What the hell? Yes. I’m sure it’s my baby,” I insist. Even if I hadn’t been with Emma nearly all the time over the last couple months, I trust her. And cheating on me is something I never would even suspect.
“You should get a paternity test. It wouldn’t be uncommon for a pretty young woman of no means to attach herself to a man to pull her out of poverty.”
“She’s not … are you …” I can’t even find the words I want to say because my mind is racing. I’m furious with her for everything she’s saying. And I’m confused about just what all this means for Emma and me.
“You should keep her at arm’s length. If the child is yours you’ll need to provide for it, of course. But we can do that better than she can anyway and any court in the world would side with us on that.”
“Court … are you kidding me? You want me to take the baby away from her?”
“Don’t you want what’s best for the baby?”
I snort at that. “You don’t give a damn about the baby.”
“The baby, at least, is innocent. And it’s one of our own. I want what’s best for this family. And that girl is not what’s best for this family.”
“Mom, she’s my girlfriend and the mother of my child. That’s the end of it.”
“Christian-“
“What the hell happened? You liked her a few days ago, when you met her.”
“That was before I knew what she was. Just another gold digger. And you’ve allowed her to worm her way into your life.”
“I think it’s time for you to go,” I say finally.
“You’re going to throw your own mother out of your club?”
“Don’t make me call a bouncer to do it,” I retort and she scowls at me, indignity radiating from her as she stalks out of the office.
Meanwhile, much as I don’t want to think about it, I sit for a long time poring over financial documents and running numbers. Because if this is really Emma’s family … Mom’s right. They really are dirt poor.
But does that really matter? Is there an issue with it?
Sure, she didn’t have money growing up. And the money I offered her for this deal probably played a huge role in why she accepted it. It’s likely why she wanted the dancer job in the first place.
Because it’s evident from the statements on the other house that she’s depositing checks every week. And every so often they’re depositing cash or they stop taking out money, which means she must have given them cash.
“Hey, what’s going on here?” Ethan strides in and plunks himself down across from my desk.
His eyes sweep over the papers in front of me and are immediately drawn to the bright red stamp ‘past due’ on the table.
“What happened? What didn’t we pay? I’ll get the checkbook-“
“Slow down,” I reply, holding up a hand. “These bills have nothing to do with the club. Or with me. They’re just … here.”
“Just here,” he repeats, eyes narrowing as he glances over them but I sweep them away quickly. For some reason I don’t want him looking at any of it. It’s not that I’m embarrassed about her; at least that’s what I tell myself. But I don’t think it’s right for him to be prying into her situation when she doesn’t want me to know. “You’d tell me if there was an issue.” It’s meant as a question, but it doesn’t come out as one.
“I would,” I agree, because if there really was a problem I’d need Ethan’s advice and guidance. But there’s not. Right?
As he’s walking out the door I hesitate. Then, “If you liked someone would money be an issue?”
“Nope. I’ve got enough for the both of us,” he replies with a shrug.
He’s right. I have more than enough for the both of us. More than enough for whatever is going on here too, I think, glancing down at the papers on my desk.
But before I decide on anything or start trying to figure out what the next steps are going to be I’m going to need to talk to Emma. Because I’m fairly certain that whatever is going on with her family, this financial situation is probably the reason she’s been so cagey about where she’s going and what she’s doing.
I glance through the papers one more time and then set them off to the side. She hasn’t told me about this stuff for a reason. And going through all of this right now just feels like … like I’m betraying her. Going behind her back to find out things.
But even as I’m curious about what’s going on with Emma, I’m furious with my mother for dredging everything up.
Emma should have had the chance to tell me when she was ready. When she wanted to talk about it. But now … now my mother has forced the issue.
I’m going to have to talk to Emma now. Before Mom does or says something that makes the situation worse. Emma and I need to be ready for her.
I sigh again and try to shove the whole thing out of my mind. There are other things that need to be done and I need to focus for the rest of the day. There will be time to talk to Emma about this whole thing. I’ll see her tonight. As long as she doesn’t run off again.
She does that quite a bit, but I glance at the papers again and shake my head. Chances are there’s more than what I know going on here. But I’m not concerned about what Emma might be hiding. More like … confused. Why did she think she needed to hide anything?
Should I feel concerned about her financial situation?
Most of me is saying no, but there’s a part of me that wonders if this could be a bigger issue. I mean, she has been hiding it all this time.