His Unexpected Baby by Jamie Knight
Chapter One - Nina
The lone star state. Jim Goad once said it was called that because even the locals gave it only one star. There was a time I found it hard to disagree. As a Texas girl born and reared, I had had a fiery nuanced view of the situation. Including and especially what was sometimes called “Texas Crazy.” Thing was, most Texans, while vaguely aware they lived in the United States of America, tended to think of themselves as Texans first and Americans second, if at all. The fact that the Republic of Texas, an actual country after the Mexican Revolution, became a state explicitly so it could support the confederacy no doubt had something to do with this. Independence ran in the blood of the land, as well as my family. Provided, of course, you did exactly what the reigning patriarch said.
The current uncrowned king of the Dunn empire was my daddy, Big Earl Dunn. There was a family joke that granddaddy named him that because he wanted him to rule like a monarch. “High-dressin’ euro queers,” to use his exact words. Keep in mind granddaddy was of old stock. The kind of guy who drank whiskey at lunch and thought women’s suffrage was probably a mistake. Don’t even get him started on the emancipation proclamation. Not that he was prejudiced, mind you.
Daddy was an oil baron, a metaphorical title he seemed to take quite literally, right down to family allegiance through marriage. Specifically, my marriage to the son of his business partner, an annoying man named Arthur. Easier to keep the business in the family when they were the same family according to the law.
Daddy wasn’t completely heartless. He wanted us to date first, though only to get used to the idea. There being no real doubt what his end goal was. If I was honest with myself, a trophy wife was all my dad ever wanted me to be. Were I more cynical, I might have suspected it was his revenge on me for not being born a boy and proper heir.
I heard the rumble of the rig as it rolled into the driveway. Arthur had the muffler taken out of his truck to make it sound fiercer. A decision that made him sound like a jackass.
“Sugar pie, your date is here,” Dad nearly sang from the first floor.
“No shit,” I said to myself.
Daddy would have put me over his knee if he’d heard me using such a phrase. He was very much of the opinion that girls shouldn’t be cursing or, indeed, have curse words said around or, heaven forbid, to them. If he ever heard most of the songs on my iPad, he would probably have a coronary.
“Coming,” I said, sweet as pixie sticks.
The torture device dress flounced as I went down the stairs. Daddy had chosen it, as he did with all my clothes. A truly terrible gingham thing that showed off my “assets”, which was okay because Arthur was going to be my husband. No harm in letting him preview the merchandise. I was surprised Dad didn’t make me wear a corset too, just to really sell the ideal. Had I elected to wear anything of the sort of my own free will, I would have been grounded for a week. Never mind that I was about to become a fully legal adult.
Flowers. Fuck. Arthur had flowers. He looked very proud of himself too. The shit-eating grin plastered across his gob, making his face all the more punchable — not that I would ever do any such thing.
“Good evening, Art,” I said, doing my best Scarlet O’Hara.
“You look great,” he said, barely able to keep his tongue in his head.
“Why, thank you, so do you.”
He actually did, from a particular perspective. His Armani meets Roy Rogers look was a bit much for me, though I was sure it would be appealing to someone. If he would only lose the string-tie, it wouldn’t be quite so vomit-inducing.
To his credit, the man didn’t try to cop a feel as I got into the rig. Both a good and bad sign, really. He was being a perfect gentleman. Which could only mean he was as excited about our ensuing nuptials as I was. On that, at least, we could agree.
One of the main things I didn’t like about Art, aside from his car, fashion sense, and general personality, was that he seemed to think the best way to solve a problem was to throw money at it. It was easy to see why, considering the number of charges that had been dropped after his family started to apply the pressure to the San Antonio judge. No one fucked with them. Which basically left them free to do whatever they wanted — one of the many advantages to being rich enough to buy a country. Their donations to the Terrell Hills church were ever so generous. Though still a small price to pay to cleanse one’s immortal soul.
“What is that?” Art asked, catching me humming in his presence.
“‘Lawyers, Guns and Money’.”
The other thing Art and I agreed on was our taste in dates. Burgers from the chuck wagon and a drive-in movie. Despite his polished appearance, Art harbored a secret soft spot for popcorn schlock. Not Westerns either. We both jumped right down to the bottom of the gutter with exploitation and grindhouse. The bloodier, the better. There was a triple feature that night that would keep us out for hours—Daddy no doubt thinking things had gone swimmingly and never suspecting the actual truth of the matter. I just couldn’t say no to Dad. I’d never disobeyed him before.
I looked at Art in the flicker of the towering moving screen. He wasn’t too bad looking, really. Put him in some jeans and a T-shirt, and he might even be handsome. Were it not for his rich boy attitude and propensity to try and bang everything with a skirt and a pulse, we might have been friends. I tried to put it out on my mind and focus on the low-budget glory unfolding before us.
If there was such a thing as a respectable time, that date wasn’t it.
The mansions stood like specters in the dark as the rig rumbled up the street, setting off several dogs along the way. I closed the front door as quietly as humanly possible. Daddy wasn’t likely waiting up for me, and I didn’t want to wake him. It might have been a different story were it closer to sunrise, but as it stood, I was still okay. Though from what I understood, even if I had stayed out until breakfast, considering who I was with, I wouldn’t have been a slut. Just chronologically challenged.
As far as our dads were concerned, Art and I were already engaged. Though I didn’t actually remember a ring being offered or accepted for that matter. It was like the will of God, inherent, permanent, and never to be questioned. Though the older I got, the more appealing some pagan deities started to look. Though that would be going a bit too far with the “heritage and tradition” Daddy and Granddaddy constantly went on about. Proper human existence beginning with the Mayflower as far as they were concerned.
Taking off my heels, I crept up the stairs and into my room. Freeing myself of the dress as I went. I couldn’t help but pause a moment. Feeling the cool fresh air on my skin. The sigh escaped from my lungs before I knew it was coming.
I was sad it was such a relief but also couldn’t deny it was true. I loved my family, though I also knew I could never be happy following their plan for me. It came down to a terrible choice between safety and freedom. Put like that, I knew which one I preferred. The Texas Rebel blood boiling up in me like lava. I just had to find a way to escape without letting Daddy know that was what I was doing.
***
It was quite the occasion. Similar to Art, Daddy thought the best way to show his love was through spending as much money as possible. So my birthdays tended to more closely resemble coronations. My sweet sixteen had been the event of many years, and my twenty-first promised to be even bigger. It was little surprise then that final preparations were still going on when I came down that morning.
“Sugar plumb, you’re nearly nude!” Daddy exclaimed.
“I am?” I asked, looking down at my nightdress, which looked like an army overcoat. Only a bit of my calf was showing.
“Oh, well, I guess it is just family around,” he said, looking over at my mom and instantly softening.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Course, baby. Pull up a pew.”
We all sat at the dinner table where Daddy held court. Earl of the house of Dunn sitting tall at the head.
“I-I know what I want for my birthday,” I said, hoping broadswords wouldn’t be needed.
“Oh, good. Anything you want, baby doll.”
“I want to become certified as a mechanic.”
His face dropped like the New Year’s Ball. This clearly was not like anything he had in mind. He probably would have been less surprised if I’d said I wanted Australia.
“Y-you’re sure that’s what you want, baby?”
“Yes, daddy. More than anything.”
“More than anything, hey?” His fingers combed at his mustache, showing that he was considering the idea. “Okay, do you think you could be happy getting certified as a mechanic but not practicing? It could be like a hobby.”
Not quite what I’d been hoping for, but every negotiation required at least some compromise. The important thing was to go out on my own for a while and train in a skill. Really see if I could do it.
Daddy had no idea, but all I really wanted to do was work with cars. If I was honest, I did better with machines than most people, though I’d learned to hide it.
“Sounds great,” I only half lied.
He patted me on the knee. “Terrific. It’s settled then.”
A couple of phone calls later, and everything was set. I was going to El Paso, well known as a car city, to stay with my auntie Blair while I did an apprenticeship at one of the state’s top garages. Daddy never did anything halfway.
“Thank you, daddy,” I said, hugging him tight, “it is the best present I ever had, and I will cherish it.”
“No problem, baby doll.”
Little did he know I was actually talking about my first and best chance at true independence.
