His Unexpected Baby by Jamie Knight

Chapter Four - Stephanie

Traffic began to mangle as I pulled off into the parking garage. Happily, everyone at the company had their parking space, well away from the maddening crowd. That was one of the perks to being an overnight success, even if the term had lost some of its meaning after the turn of the millennium.

It was an interesting bit of meta that the company operated both online and in retail, combining online shops with the brick-and-mortar variety. It helped hit both the youth market and the older set in one go.

Could be why it grew from an indie operation on Etsy to a billion-dollar empire. Nice work if you can get it.

“Morning, Pat,” I said, signing in at security.

“And to you, lady Stephanie,” he said, with a dandy tip of his uniform cap.

Patrick O’Malley had worked in the building for over thirty years and had seen all manner of business come and go through the marble lobby. Old desks out and new desks in, as the economy ebbed and flowed, bulls becoming bears and back again.

Not that Seattle was anywhere near Wall Street, shielded by the overlords in the East by the mountains and a strong sense of identity.

There was a reason there was never a style of music called “The New York Sound” or “The Boston Sound,” while I did have, at least vague memories, of a “Seattle Sound.”

“What’s on the agenda?” I asked Maddie, as I breezed by her desk.

“There’s the meeting with corporate this afternoon, and you have to decide on the final designs for the new line, and you have a lunch meeting with Fawn Birch.”

“Fawn who?”

“The designer we’re thinking of contracting. She sent over some samples.”

“Remind me.”

“Um, lots and lots of white gold and sapphires, filigree…”

“Right, right, very good stuff. Okay, book a table at the Cedar Lounge for just after one o’clock and–”

“It’s already booked. She said so could only meet at twelve, so that’s when it’s booked for.”

“Right, okay, I can work with that.”

Maddie lowered the clipboard she’d been holding up like a shield. Apparently, my assistant was under the impression I could throw daggers, as opposed to just stare them.

There wasn’t much time before lunch, so I postponed choosing the seasonal line and focused on meeting prep instead. I still had three hours, after all, but I liked to go in prepared.

“Drink?” Maddie asked.

“Green tea.”

She scampered off to make it and I took my place at the desk, revisiting the urge to turn around. As powerful as the view made me feel, I also got a bit dizzy from the height. It wouldn’t have been so bad were the entire wall not basically a window, but as it was, I always felt like I was going to plummet to my death. Not the best state of mind for positive productivity.

Fawn Birch was an odd duck, to be sure. For starters, she had been christened Amanda Collins, but took her ‘chosen name’ in her early 20s.

Still, it couldn’t be denied the girl knew her jewelry, particularly when it came to stone contrast. Each of her designs had a look that was both ancient and modern at the same time. Unique and beautiful, exactly what Asgard Fine Jewelry was looking for.

The opportunity to meet the enigmatic artist came even sooner than expected. The Cedar Lounge was on the other side of the town, so I had to leave early to evade the lunchtime rush.

This admission might sound strange for a city girl to make, but I really didn’t like massive crowds. It was within reason; I needn’t elect to always be alone. It was just when the dozens became hundreds that I started to get a bit edgy.

There were twelve diners already at the Cedar Lounge when I was seated. It would be just over a baker’s dozen with me and Fawn, when she arrived, assuming she wasn’t already here.

There was every possibility she was in the bathroom, a fact which divided my attention between two doors while waiting her arrival.

The front door was the one to finally deliver my lunching companion.

“Sorry I’m late, am I late?”

“Not yet,” I said.

“Oh, cool.”

Her scent was strong but not unpleasant. It was some kind of oil, likely rose, mixed with sage incense.

More of a surprise was her hair, done in what could only be described as ‘battle braids.’ Her raven hair was woven together in a way to evoke a warrior queen, more than a genteel creative type. Maybe she was both.

“I’d like to get right down to business, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure.”

“I’m not usually this blunt, but your designs fit our brand perfectly. Ancient and primal, while also being modern and accessible.”

“Thanks, they’re a reflection of my soul.”

I didn’t laugh. Not only would have it been rude, but I also didn’t see anything particularly funny in her statement. Generally, I found the idea of souls silly at best, but there was something that happened when I saw Ragnar in the bandstand.

Something was touched, something primal, that felt ancient but also a part of me.

‘Soul’ was as good a word as any.

“I want to use your work for our new seasonal line. I need six new designs, with six examples of each design in two months. Can you do that?”

“Sure! I mean, yes, ma’am, I’ll get right on it.”

“Are you doing it yourself or do you have help?”

“I have help, I can get more if needed.”

“Marvelous, that’s what I like to hear.”

Part of the prep was drawing up the contract and running it by legal just to be double sure. I was fairly certain she would want to sign with the company, but it was always best not to assume.

Assumptions were the mothers of all failures. At least in my experience.

The ink on the contract was barely dry when Fawn said she had to go, leaving at the same speed with which she had arrived.

My two main jobs done for the day, I decided to enjoy the lunch I’d ordered. Especially since I was charging it to the company anyway, so there was no skin off my nose.

While I waited for my soup to cool, I decided to look up Ragnar’s band online. This intention was complicated by the fact I couldn’t quite remember what it was called, though.

I’d only heard it the day before, but a lot had happened since then. According to what I could recall after thinking really hard, it had been called Loki’s Laugh. A name that brought a smile to my lips.

I’d barely put in ‘Loki’s’ into Google before predictive text took care of the rest. I had the search engine set to ‘all,’ and was hit with a bevy of videos and photo links to various music streaming sites.

Ragnar sure looked different. Most people had dressed up for the wedding, even me, but the distance between how I’d seen him, even earlier that day, and the version in the promo photos was big.

By far the most toned down of the three bandmates, Ragnar was still unmistakably a metal head, in his Chuck Taylors, black jeans and sleeveless shirt.

Interestingly enough, though, not everything was positive. There were several news articles calling the group a menace, and I dove deeper.

It had something to do with a church burning down. I vaguely remembered hearing something about it, with Jonna getting into a shouting match with my dad about how it was all media bullshit, and it was just music.

Actually, after hearing some of the apparently “accursed” tunes, I had to side with my baby sister. It certainly didn’t sound evil.

Yes, it was very gloomy and extremely intense, but hardly music to summon the devil by. Something our parents were positively certain most metal heads were doing in their free time. Apparently, they’d long forgotten what the adults of their day had to say about their own music choices.

Going back to the original search, I chose a video at random to try and see what Loki’s Laugh was really all about. I’d heard them at the wedding but, going by the wardrobe change, had the sneaking suspicion that it might have been a defanged version of their normal stuff that I was hearing.

I wanted the real deal.

Pressing the play icon, I closed my eyes, and awaited enlightenment. It was quick in coming, the sound that filled my earbuds unlike anything I’d ever heard.

It wasn’t the deep, heavy black metal I was expecting, at least based on my limited experience, and it also bore a slight resemblance to the stripped-down version in the bandstand. Louder for sure, there was also an increased energy and spirit.

And Ragnar sounded even better with a full kit. The guitar soared with surprising melody over the rock-solid foundation laid down by the bass. Everything that Jonna had ever told me about music came flooding back, and I found myself understanding more than I ever thought I would.

I didn’t listen to music much. I liked it as much as the next girl, but mostly in the background while driving, or while trying to go to sleep. For Jonna it was a major part of her existence, like she would cry for days if ever deprived of the thing she loved most.

I honestly envied her, as I’d never had anything that I was so passionate about, most things feeling like they were happening to me and I was along for the ride. There were plenty of things I liked, and was even good at, but I wouldn’t call any of them a ‘passion.’

My phone pinged, bringing me back to reality. It was a text from Seth.

Seth: Loki’s Laugh gig tonight, coming?

Me: Yes. See you there.

I didn’t even need to think about it. The chance to see them again, only really being themselves, was not something I was going to give up. My heart raced and my panties dripped at the thought of it.