"I need to celebrate life because I'm in a good spot, I work hard, and I am happy with who I am and happy with what I do for a living, and sometimes I just focus and overwhelm myself so much with the fights and getting better, that I just need to slow it down and enjoy life and enjoy training."

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Chris

I'm awaken from my sleep by phone call. It's loud and won't fucking stop.

"The fuck?" I cuss, sitting up to see the time on Morgan's phone that was charging on my bedside stand.

3:53AM

"Who the fuck is calling you?" Morgan grumbles, not even picking her head up from the pillow.

She's such a light sleeper, she wakes up if I blink too loud.

I'm unsure where my phone is and it keeps ringing.

Goddamn it.

I figure it's important since it's so late/early. So, I get out of bed and walk across the floor, following the sound with my hand down my briefs.

Duke — or Stevie, whoever— starts to growl at me in the darkness.

"Shut up." I mumble back, stepping over the seven-month-old dogs.

"Don't talk to them like that!" Morgan scolds me.

I wave her off and continue down the hallway.

The phone's still ringing. It's actually about to piss me off.

I'd say somebody better be dying but with my luck, that might come true, so I don't.

Finally, though, I find my phone in the living room. And coincidentally, it's beside the bag in which I keep my weed. I need it to put me back to sleep. It's been my NyQuil since Morgan stopped giving it up.

I wipe my sleepy eyes and read the caller ID:

Annette Butler (detective)

Shit.

Immediately, I'm anxious seeing her name on my phone at this time. She's about to give great news, or tell me all Hell has broken loose.

I look around to make sure Morgan didn't get out of bed to eavesdrop or get a night snack and happen to overhear me.
I'll tell Morgan whatever Annette tells me, of course, I just figure she called me for a reason so I want to hear it first and break it to Morgan myself.

"Hello?" I finally answer the call, stepping outside.

I sit in a chair on the deck and shake my leg under the table.

"Chris. Sorry it's so late. It's urgent, thought you'd like to know this right away." She says, scaring me stiff.

I can't get my weed out fast enough.

I find a joint that I rolled earlier and light it, bracing myself for this news.

"What is it?" I asked, stressed.
Ov
"Your problem has left."

"I don't have time for riddles and games, Annette, just... please."

She chuckles again. "She just got on a plane to Turkey. You won't have to worry about her anymore. Well, not for some time."

I feel as relieved as Morgan taking off her bra after a long day.

"Annette," I can finally breathe, "you have no idea how grateful I am. Thank you."

"Don't thank me, yet. I couldn't find why Sabrina was going or for how long, but I'm still looking into it. In the meantime, you and Morgan can relax a little more. You sound stressed."

"Very. Thank you, Annette. Really."

Weirdly, I can hear her smile. "I'm just doing my job," she says. "Good night, Vaughn."

~~~

"—Keep up the good work." Beck closes a meeting.

Sounds you'd hear in a beehive erupt as everyone stands and begins socializing after an hour of Beck's rambling.

"Dude," Phil walks up on me. "what should I bring to your party, the strippers or the D.R.U.G.S.?"

"Phil, do not bring any drugs near me." I make clear with my finger poking his chest.

His frightened look tells me to back off. He doesn't know about my little stint at Dice Bar and how I almost died so my warning is just coming off, well, like an asshole.

I curl my face. "Or strippers, the fuck? And it was supposed to be a surprise, dick." I shake my head, walking away from him but he follows.

Frank joins us on my left and laughs small. "Then how'd you know about it?"

I laugh, entering my office with them in my shadow. "Saw the plans on Annie's laptop."

Frank takes a seat parallel from me and makes Phil sit with him like they have nothing better to do.

"We're going to Dice Bar tonight after work, if you want to c-"

"No." I shoot down that idea while it's still forming.

They both look confused.

"Dude, you bailed last time? What's up?" Phil asks me.

I twist and turn childishly in the chair and shrug my shoulders.
These two dickheads don't need to know about my affairs outside of work. I like them, but they're corny, completely opposite of Lee and JB. I'm not sure how they'll mix. They're lucky they even got an invitation to this get-together.

Frank rolls his eyes. "I respect your loyalty to your girlfriend. Tell me, where does she keep your balls, in a jar somewhere?" He makes Phil laugh.

"Fuck both of you. Get out, act like you have work to do." I'm joking but actually do mean to kick them out. Some of us care about our jobs.

"Oh, hey, Beck." Phil clears his throat.

The mention of that name makes me sit upright and stare as he enters unwanted and uninvited.

"Have a minute?" He asks, gliding forward anyway.

I flail my arms. "Even if I didn't..."

He smirks and takes a seat after throwing some things down on my desk.

"What's this?" I ask him, my face curled suspiciously.
It's Beck, the only thing he gives me is high blood pressure.

"A list of candidates for you to interview, you're getting a personal assistant. Also, you can now park in the reserved spaces next to mine and the owner's. Oh, and, your new custom business cards. Nice, right? They're modeled after Paul Allen's in 'American Psycho.'"

I almost find myself oozing over the eggshell-colored cards.

"It has a watermark." I whisper, sounding just like the character from the movie.

I look at Beck and he's grinning boastfully while nodding.

Pause. Record scratch. Rewind.

"No. Hell no. Why are you doing this?" I return to my original mind and push the cards away as nice as they are.

He throws his hands up. "Can't it just be because I recognize you as a hard worker and want to reward you?"

I keep my face straight, not buying it.

Beck laughs aloud, seeing I'm not even gonna dignify him with a response to that bullshit. "Okay," he admits, "well, the cards were my wife's doing."

"Which one?"

"I'm sorry?"

"I just meant, which wife: the paid one or the Jesus freak?"

His usually stiff, dumbfounded face morphs to a scowl for a beat and then he laughs. "The, uh, interviewees will be here Monday. I cleared your schedule after lunch. You're welcome."

I flip through the laminated head shots and resumes he's given me. And, of course, more bullshit.

"These are all women with zero experience?" I throw them across the desk.

Beck furrows his eyebrows. "Were they? I didn't notice. Well, that's everyone who submitted an application. You definitely bring in a certain demographic; wonder if that's 'cause you're so good with your hands?" He snickers.

I grow uncomfortable in his presence again and clench my jaw.

"Is that all?" I ask him through a deeply bored sigh, standing.

My patience with him has grown thin. If he keeps going, my tongue will only get sharper.

Beck stands, too, and fixes his jacket. "I suppose. I will filter the requirements to anyone who hasn't seen your home tape, and we'll go from there. Probably won't have any luck, then. Enjoy the parking space, though, Vaughn, and your raise. Hopefully that'll get you to change your mind about leaving us. It's not just about me, Christopher, think about your clients and those two idiots - Philip and Franklin."

He rubs his chin and then catches a glimpse of my new watch.

"A Rolex? Sheesh! Well, that bonus was kind to you." He remarks, leaning in closer to see the diamond time piece.

"It was a gift." I snarl. That's half true. It was a gift, just from myself for working so hard. I couldn't help it, I saw it and there was a voice in my head that said "treat yourself." Now I know what Morgan's talking about when she goes on all those shopping sprees.

"Doesn't matter, it's still on your wrist." Beck winks, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his wide leg pants.

I turn to face the view of the city behind me, thinking Beck will show himself out as I've had enough of him.

I sigh deeply and peer at my reflection.

It's only a watch. A ten-thousand dollar watch, but still, just a watch.

"You like it, don't you?" Beck's voice appears in my ear.

I get scared by him suddenly being so close but I don't jump out of my skin, only rotate on my heels to look him up and down.

"What are you talking about?" I ask, facing my reflection again.

"The watch. The bonus. The lifestyle. Why won't you admit it, Vaughn?"

"Stop acting like you know me, Beck, you don't."

He backs off, hands up as if innocent. "You and me, Christian, we're a lot alike."

I shake my head. "No we're not."

"I'll let you think about it," he says, slowly exiting my office. "I can see the wheels turning."

~~~

5:57 pm

"These bitches, they just wanna have my baby!" Jabari raps the Young Dolph song 'Preach.' He's in my passenger seat acting out the lyrics.

I turn down my street and rap the next line. "Born in the eighties, crack baby!"

Jabari chokes, offering me to hit his blunt.

"Nah." I shake my head, removing my seatbelt as the Tesla parks itself. "Put that out, my mom's been weird about that shit."

Jabari curls his face, the same reaction I had to her sudden Karen-like behavior about weed.

"She found a dime bag in the couch this morning and told me I need to stop smoking so much, whatever the fuck."

JB sucks his teeth and extinguishes the blunt. "You got spray?" He asks me.

I tilt my head to where he can find some in the backseat.

After he sprays us both down and my car, I put in some eye drops.

"Ain't this a bitch? Feel like I'm in middle school again." He makes me laugh as I get out of the car.

Jabari follows me to my front door, waiting for someone to open it.

"Hey, Mom." I let her kiss my cheek when she lets us inside since I didn't have my key out.

"How was work?" She asks, taking my satchel.

I laugh. "You don't have to do that."

"Well, Morgan is too busy to greet you, so."

"What's she doing?" I ask, looking around for her.

"Too damn much." Jasmine snarks, walking in front of my body to ascend the stairs. "If she asks me to do one more thing-"

Izzy follows her and gives me a quick "hey, Chris!"

I catch a side view of her four month pregnant belly.

"How's my God-son doing in there?" I talk to Izzy's back as she doesn't slow down up the steps.

"She's just fine." Izzy replies, looking back at me over her shoulder.

~

Enough greeting people, it's been twenty minutes and I still haven't laid eyes on my girlfriend, everyone just keeps talking about how busy she is. Without her, it feels like the party hasn't really started.

After looking in the backyard, living and family rooms, and in the kitchen, I head upstairs to our bedroom.

I'm speechless at the sight of her, leaning on the vanity for support as she struggles putting her pink pumps on to match that goddamned silky satin strapless bubblegum pink mini dress. It's sleeveless, her breasts spill out but not wildly. This dress is equal part's seductive yet cute and still sort of innocent. Her waist is imaginary in it from the corset and the help of the pleated trim to accentuate her hourglass figure. Perfection.

The mist of her smell lingers in the air and I step into it, inhaling blissfully.

Morgan stands upright from the vanity and smooths her dress down. She looks at me and does a double take, creasing a smile on her glossed lips. "Baby, can you help me?"

Something about her calling me "baby" renders me weak every time. I was never that guy — daddy or baby— were never phrases that got me going, but the way she says them, so much love in her tone and the way she holds her lips leaves me weak.

"Baby?" Morgan waves the necklace in my face to snap me out of my thoughts.

I smirk and gently take it from her hands. She shifts her body with the help of my hands on her hips.

"Were you enjoying the party?" She hums, looking at the reflection of us in the large full length mirror.

The room is dim, there's only the light from the bathroom to shine on us, but she still looks like an angel.

Once I clasp the necklace, I remove her hands from her hair to let it fall so I can lock our fingers around her waist.

"Not without you." I reply in her ear.

Morgan smiles sweetly. "Well I'm here now. I want you to have a good night, let everyone celebrate you."

I hear what she's saying but I'm not listening, her scent and this sheen on her lips is too distracting. Don't get me started on the dress. Or her legs that are so soft, so shiny, and flawless that it looks like she's wearing tights.

"You're glowing." I compliment, my eyes slave to her beauty. She's just radiant everyday, but especially tonight.

I can't help but to kiss down her neck and shoulder.

I lower my eyes when she puts her finger in my face. "No, Chris," she insists with serious eyes that don't match her lustful smile. "We need to get to your party."

I throw my head back and groan. "Fine. Have you seen my watch? The 'Paul Rich' one?"

"You don't want to wear your Rolex?"

I shake my head. "Mom got me the Rich Paul one, she'll be mad if I don't wear it; you know how you women are." I'm only kidding but Morgan sucks her teeth at me.

She puts on her second diamond earring and shrugs at me. "Check the bathroom?"

I nod and head that way, bouncing with every step as I hear the muffled sounds of the music from downstairs.

Buzzed already, or just clumsy, I trip over a trash bin.

The ruckus causes Morgan to shout, "You okay in there, drunky?"

I have 20/20 vision so I know my eyes aren't deceiving me. I'm also not drunk, yet.
So what's this, I wonder. . .

"Babe?" Morgan calls out with concern when I take too long to reply.

I pick my lip up and swallow, walking over to shut the bathroom door.

I have to lie so I have an excuse to shut the door. After all this time together, we're so comfortable that I just pee or shower in front of her, we never really close the door.

"I gotta take a shit." I make up and she buys it. Morgan hates poop, or even just talking about it. If it was up to her, she wouldn't ever go number two. I've told her she can go in front of me but she doesn't even fart around me, says it's improper and unladylike. More of a reason to believe she's unreal. It's crazy that she can't just do a normal human bodily function with me in the room at this stage in our relationship, but I also kind of respect and appreciate it.
One time I was kind of dating this girl, it had only been a couple of weeks, and she farted when were hanging out. It took her from an already generous seven to a four.

I shut myself inside and turn on the fan to make my little lie believable.

I kneel down to sweep the contents of the trash into the bin. It was the usual, paper towels, dryer sheets, hair balls, lint. Except, in all of that, a pregnancy test. It had unraveled from the paper towels Morgan had obviously tried to hide it in. But why would she hide this? It's positive. And there's only one, she didn't take multiple this time.

Fuck, I'm gonna be a dad, I talk to myself in my head. Really this time. I- I don't know what to think, or do. . .

Holy. Shit. My baby's having a baby. God, I knew she looked extra beautiful tonight.

I stand and pace, grinning with excitement.

Finally. I knew that everything would fall in order and go according to plan. Like I've said: get the money, get the girl, start a family, live happy ever after or whatever the fuck. Fina-fucking-lly. And we're gonna do it right this time. I'm gonna be there every step of the way, too.

I want to run out there and tell everyone the good news, something more to celebrate, but I stop myself. Clearly, there's a reason why she hasn't told me. I mean, we tell each other everything. Surely, she must be waiting for a second opinion, or just until everyone leaves. Yeah, that has to be it. If she told me and all our family tonight, it would take away from me - my birthday party. She's so damn thoughtful, fuck, I love her.

We're gonna have to start thinking about baby names.
CJ? Eh, do I want a junior? Yeah, why not, my first son?

Or what if it's a girl? We can name her something after Morgan, a unisex name or anything that starts with an 'M.'
Mia? That's cute, I like it.
Mae? Ooo, Quinn's middle name. She'd like that—

"Chris?" Morgan's voice behind the door startles me.

I exit my thoughts and hurry to clean the mess up, stuffing the pregnancy test deep down so she won't suspect anything.

I wash my hands and pick up the air freshener just as Morgan opens the door.

"Are you okay?" She asks, poking her head inside the bathroom.

I smile big. Too big, but I can't help it.

With a kiss to her forehead, I say, "Never been better. Come on, let's go celebrate."