Surrogate For The Billionaire
By: Tyra SmallLateisha laughed aloud again. Was this guy for real? It was a lot of money. Dollar signs in her eyes, Lateisha contemplated emailing him to see if he was for real or not. Could be a serial killer looking to get young women to meet him places so he could kidnap them. Then again, HenCorp was a big company, and to use their name and email in the ad to lure someone in to kill them would be stupid. Why was she even thinking about this? It was ridiculous. She didn’t want kids, never had, but maybe that’s what this guy wants. Changing her mind and keeping the baby would never happen since she didn’t want any of her own kids. This was a crazy idea. Was she really considering carrying a baby for a stranger? But thirty thousand dollars… This would take a lot of consideration. Closing her email, Lateisha ate her lunch, all the while chewing on the idea of being a surrogate.
*****
Bryce Henderson scratched his head. Why wasn’t he getting any interest in the ad he put up online? Sighing, he turned back to his computer, reading over the contract he received that morning for the newest company his business acquired. His business was a loose term of course, since after graduate school he inherited the position of owner from his father, who was more than willing to retire and move to the clichéd Florida with his new thirty-something wife and their two dogs. How his father pulled that one off he’d never know, but when Bryce’s mother died five years ago his dad became a shell of a man. Any woman who could pull him out of that funk, even if she was only a few years older than his twenty-eight years, was welcome in his family. He just hoped his father knew what he was doing.
Cracking his neck from side to side to work out the stiffness of a full days work, Bryce closed the contract document, making a note to read it further later and sign, and opened his email again in the hopes of finding a response to his ad. Bryce wanted to have a child to pass his business to, to play catch with and watch grow up, but he didn’t have time to date and he was almost thirty. The surrogacy idea came to him late one night when he was still in the office, well past everyone else. Bryce glanced out of the window from his sixteenth floor office and looked down at the city below. It was a Friday night, but there he was, working. He knew he could have been out there, at a bar or a club, meeting a woman who would become Mrs. Bryce Henderson II, but he just didn’t have the energy for it. But he wanted a child. That he knew for certain. Suddenly the idea of surrogacy made a lot of sense. The night before he saw a news story about a woman, who was a surrogate to two children for the same couple, it was quite the story. Why couldn’t he do that and skip all of the nonsense of dating? He spoke to his lawyer the next day and put the wheels in motion, but he still needed a woman willing to use her own egg and carry the child to term. That was the part proving to be tricky. The ad was on the website for over a week and he hadn’t heard a peep of interest. Sure, it was asking a lot, but he knew there was a selfless woman out there who would do this for him eventually.
Bryce clicked the icon for his inbox, indicating he had three new messages. Two were business related and he opened those and responded accordingly. The last one made his heart speed up; someone had answered his ad. Opening his email, Bryce wiped his now sweating palms on the legs of his navy designer suit pants. This was it.
Hi Mr. Henderson.
I am a twenty-one year old, college graduate and I’m interested in your offer for a surrogate. I don’t smoke, and I have a clean bill of health. I was wondering if we could meet to discuss the conditions. I look forward to hearing from you.
Sincerely,
Lateisha Aaron
Springing into action, Bryce responded, letting the woman know that he would like to interview her the next day at three-thirty to see if she was a fit for the surrogacy. This could be it, his chance to have a child.
*****
Lateisha adjusted her blouse nervously. She wasn’t used to wearing dress clothes and the silky blouse and black slacks felt uncomfortable and stiff against her skin. Glancing in the mirror of the bathroom in the Henderson Building, Lateisha checked her teeth for remnants of Lucky Charms and smoothed her clothes once more with anxiety. Satisfied that she looked presentable, Lateisha exited the bathroom, checking the large board in the lobby for the office number and floor of Mr. Bryce Henderson. Not able to find it she headed to the information desk in the far corner, her black heels clicking on the marble tiles as she went.
