The being inside me gives a gentle kick, tickling my insides. I had been chosen. Young mothers were big business now in LA. Millions of girls all over the city were getting pregnant, for the chance to appear on Posh Preggers, a reality show on Gossip TV that made huge celebrities of its previous stars. And they’d picked me.
My “boyfriend” was a dull-as-plain-oatmeal actor, the real father, a gorgeous simpleton used as a pawn, paid off generously. A few months after it’s born, my “boyfriend” and I will leak the story of our break up to the press, I’ll dump the being on my parents, and start my real life as a celebrity. Endless opportunities ahead.
Today’s scene. Learning the being’s gender with my “boyfriend” and parents (the real ones, also compensated handsomely). In the living room of the beach house leased by Gossip TV, I hand the envelope sealed by my OB-BYN to my mom. She opens it and clutches her hand to her chest.
“It’s a girl!”
We all hug and I feel a flutter inside that warms me. It’s a her. My knees give way and I sit, staring through the window at the ocean.
For Flash Friday
Read pt. 2 here