Chapter 5: When it rains

I was still in shock when Gretchen leaned over, took me into her arms and held me. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I never thought... I never thought this would really happen. It was just supposed to be a joke."

My thoughts ran around the inside of my head, like a dog chasing its own tail; going nowhere, but getting there really fast. I covered my eyes with my hands and pulled myself together. I needed to think, clearly and logically. Leaping up and trying to run away from this would be worse than useless, and panicking would solve absolutely nothing.

I took a deep breath. "I know," I said simply. "Neither of us thought this would happen to us, but it did." I fought down the frustration. "Frankly, neither of us thought, period. I knew that guy who bumped into you was probably trying to steal something, but it didn't dawn on me that it might be the license. I should have come back to help you. I should have been more concerned about that bump, and more suspicious of him, even if I didn't think he had a reason to be up to something, much less run. God! Who puts two doors going into a bathroom of all places?"

With another deep breath, I uncovered my eyes and looked at the woman holding me. Her eyes dripped tears slowly onto my shoulder. Forcing myself to relax my taut muscles, I wrapped my arms around her and held her. "This isn't the end of the world. Shocking, surprising, yes, but fate sometimes plays tricks on those of us who think we're clever. That's us, by the way. You should have known better than to play this game. I should have known better than to let you, but I allowed my desire, for your body, and for you, to overrule my brain. This is my fault as much as it is yours." I frowned to myself. Why had I made a distinction between Gretchen and Gretchen's body? I filed that tidbit away for the moment.

Gretchen rested her forehead on my shoulder, missing my subtle distinction. "What do we do now, Hawk?"

I kissed the top of her head. "We pick ourselves up, and we sort ourselves out. I guess that conversation in Vegas was a bit prophetic: now that we're here, married, we both already know that we'll try to make this work. Right?"

There was a flutter in my stomach as she looked back up at me. I didn't know if I wanted her to back out or not. I was afraid she would say 'yes, ' and maybe even more afraid she'd say 'no.' I really didn't want to examine those feelings right now. I had said I would try, so dammit I would try. If she said 'no, ' then...

Gretchen raised her head and nodded. "I don't quit. You're right, this isn't a disaster. I mean, it's not like one of us is pregnant or anything."

"Right," I laughed. "That would be a little much, all things..." A vision of that split condom on the bed in Vegas flashed through my mind. A moment's consideration and I dismissed the odds.

My hesitation was short, but not short enough. Gretchen's eyes widened. "You don't think..."

I cut her off with a wave of my hand. "No," I said firmly. "I don't think so. Ted always used condoms. He's a thoughtful gentleman."

"Oh, Hawk," Gretchen said, pulling back and giving me a serious look from across the seat, "condoms are good, but they aren't a one hundred percent barrier. You're on the pill, too, right? You use spermicide? Condoms sometimes break or leak."

"Well, no. I react funny to the pill, and it never seemed like something I'd have to consider, until just recently," I admitted. "I tried taking them to regulate my period for a while and gave it up. And spermicide tastes nasty, doesn't it? I wouldn't do that to my sexual partners. I don't even remember having sex the night before I met you, and that's the only time I've even seen a broken condom. Even if it was in me, the odds of getting pregnant are..."

"One per customer," Gretchen said as she rolled her eyes and shook her head. "That was what, six days ago? That might be long enough for an over the counter pregnancy test."

"I don't need a test," I objected. "You and I have more important things we need to be doing."

"No," Gretchen said firmly. "More pressing, perhaps, but never more important than life. I'm invoking spousal privilege. We get this checked, and we get it checked now, not later."

"Spousal what?" I asked suspiciously. "What the hell is that?"

"Well," she began reasonably, "we've already established we're married. If one of us has something important going on, the other has a right to know about it. Besides," she added with a twinkle in her eye, "since you're the one that might be pregnant, that obviously makes you my wife. So as the husband, the head of our little family, I get to..."

"Oh, no you don't!" I half yelled. "You are not getting over on me so easily. You aren't my husband and you aren't in charge of this relationship! I do not concede 'alpha' status to you. You can be the wife and I'll be the husband."

She pulled out a tissue from her purse and wiped her eyes dry, laughing. "Now I know we'll be okay. If we were to go by money or social status, I'd still be the senior partner," she held up a hand before I could speak, "but you're right. None of those kinds of things can matter between us. Neither one of us can be in charge. We're either going to be partners, or this won't work." She smiled with that twinkle back in her eyes. "But, I'll still tease the hell out of you about it. In public when I can."

"You can take the money and that social crap and toss it right out the window," I retorted with a small smile. "I don't need your money and I settle social issues with a taser."

A tiny smile that mirrored my own flitted across her face. "Well, if you're my wife, then guess what? My money and my social status are part of the package. The flip-side is that, as your wife, I have to deal with you being a cop. I've watched enough TV to know that isn't easy, but I accept that you being a cop is part of your package." She looked at me with an intensity that made me squirm, and I suddenly realized that Gretchen and I had done something important, something exhilarating and terrifying and utterly wonderful; we had come to an understanding. I wanted to hold this moment, savor and extend it, but Gretchen wouldn't let me. "It's okay, though, Hawk," she told me, "I know all about cops. I watch Law and Order." One look and I knew she was serious.

"Dear God, help us," I moaned and covered my face with my hands again.

"What?" she asked indignantly.

I argued a little more about taking the test, but it was just a formality. Call it reflexive resistance. Gretchen had already won this round, and I was going to get a test. It couldn't hurt because I wasn't pregnant, so I figured it was best to just give in, get it done and move on to more important things.

Gretchen insisted on getting that crappy car back to Dio's lot and having Devon meet us first, though. With all that was going on, I had forgotten how bad it was in this car. She could have this round, too. I didn't even try to argue about getting rid of it.

Devon was waiting at the lot, chatting amiably with his cousin. When we pulled in and the car wheezed to a halt with a clatter, he looked in the window, his eyes wide with shock.

"Jesus wept, Dio! How you give dem dis... dis ting?" Devon demanded of Dio. "I give dem my good word!"

Dio held up his hands. "Dey say dey want low end. It don get more low end than dat! Dey could always tell Dio no."

I climbed out and gave the door a good slam. Rather than closing, it bounced back open and fell onto the ground with a crash. I considered giving it a kick, but I was afraid the whole thing would fall apart. Turning to Dio, I shrugged. "Sorry."

Both men burst out laughing. They were laughing so hard, they were holding each other up. I rolled my eyes in disgust before stomping past them and into the warm office. Gretchen followed me in and headed right for the restroom.

"I'll be back. I need to ritually cleanse myself. We'll end up owning Devon and his cab with the fares we pay before I get into another junker like that!" she said, defying me to argue.

Not that I had any intention of arguing. "Fine by me. We can lease him or something. It would be cheaper than buying another car. Besides, aren't we supposed to have a driver?" I teased.

"You only think you're funny," she said and closed the door behind her. Firmly.

The outer door to the building opened and the men, still laughing, stumbled through. I laughed sarcastically back at them. "Ha, ha. Very funny." Dio slid behind the desk and grinned at me while Devon parked himself on the couch.

"Dat is very funny," Dio insisted. "It was so funny, Dio won't even charge you for de damage."

"Charge us for..." I sputtered. "You should be so lucky," I finally laughed, shaking my head. "Gretchen is cleaning up, and then we'll be on our way."

Still laughing, he returned the deposit, minus fifty bucks. Reasonable, considering the car, I suppose.

When Gretchen came out, she smelled better. Not clean, but better. I hoofed into the restroom and stripped off, doing my own whore bath. I stopped dead at that thought and then shook my head. Gretchen and I were going to have to talk about that business of renting herself, and I needed to get that word out of my vocabulary.

When I dressed and came back out, Dio was smoking a huge cigar and listening to Gretchen and Devon talk. The two were seated on opposite ends of the couch, facing each other.

"Three months," Gretchen said.

"Dat's too short to be worth all de hassle," Devon responded. "Dere be a lot of disturbance to my life. One year."

"Six months," she countered. "We don't know how things will be until then."

"One year," Devon said firmly, "but wit a one week trial period. If you don't know by den, you not be de kind of woman I tink you are."

Gretchen pursed her lips as I sat on the edge of the desk and looked at Dio. "What's going on?" I asked him.

"She be hiring Devon to drive de two of you around," he said with a shrug.

"For a year?" I asked incredulously. "We won't be in Boston nearly that long. I have a job in Houston."

Gretchen looked at me and with a smile that was pure defiance, she nodded. "Done. You start now, Devon. We'll be picking up a car, and you can drop your cab back off at the, um, place where cabs go."

"Gretchen!" I screeched. "What are you doing?"

She smiled lazily at me. "Hiring a chauffeur. We'll be needing one."

"For a year?" I demanded.

"At least," she said seriously. "Though we still haven't talked about the little details like who will move where and how we're going to manage living together. Oh," she said with a smile, "I went ahead and told them we were married."

I choked and resisted the urge to strangle her. "You what!?!"

Gretchen held up a hand. "Stop. Part of you has it accepted it, but you need to get this through that stubborn head of yours. For better or worse, we're married, and I'm not going to hide it from the world. I mean it. This'll get out even if we say nothing, and I refuse to cower from the world. I take the lumps for what I do. Isn't it worth it to you?" Her eyes weren't teary now. They were hard and bright. She was pissed off.

I bit back the instinctive response and shook my head, backing down. She was right. "I didn't mean it that way. I still haven't thought it through that far," I got off the desk and moved to her, "but I'm not ashamed of you."

"Good!" she said perkily as she bounced up from the seat. "Then to get back on subject, we will have to have a driver wherever we move."

"Why?" I asked. "Neither one of us had one before."

"Neither one of us was married before. Now that I'm settled down, I need a driver," she insisted. "Besides, you told me we needed one just a few minutes ago."