Young Writers Society

Adam Celeste opened the door to his high-rise, downtown apartment and loosened the restrictive red tie around his neck. Taking off the tailored jacket, he plopped down on the plush couch and closed his sky blue eyes. He was a handsome, clean-shaven man with dark hair. Under the trim shirt and slacks, his build was tall and muscular. He was a modern Adonis, and his work as a well-known stockbroker made him all the more admirable.

He sighed contently and sank deeper into the couch's plushness. Once the stock exchange had closed at four, he had sped home in his Porsche, music blaring from the radio. Now he was home and free from the shouts, the arrogance, and the constant calls. In his pocket, his phone vibrated, drawing a groan from him. Almost free from the calls.

It was one of his clients, and one of the more snobby at that. Adam wanted to dash his phone against the marble floor at the sound of his client's voice, but he kept his temper check. They talked for ten minutes, and Adam reassured the client that his investments were safe even with a sharp drop in the markets. He grumbled darkly when the client hung up.

“What is it, darling?” At the sound of his wife's voice, Adam smiled and turned his head to see her. She was as beautiful as he was handsome. Her hair was long and golden, and she was willowy and elegantly dressed. Her green eyes were sharp and bright, and they studied her husband closely as she sat beside him. “Long day at work?” she asked, pecking him on the check. Her voice was rich and musical.

“Yes.” He sighed and threw an arm over his eyes. “I'd like to choke a few people right now actually. You ever have that feeling, Eve?”

“As an ambassador to a country that thinks that women are second-class citizens, I do.” She plucked an apple from the bowl on the glass table in front of them. “Apple?”

“No, thank you.”

Her eyes studied him for a few more seconds before she asked suddenly, “If we ever had children, what would you want first? A son or a daughter?”

Adam was caught off-guard by the question, and he raised an eyebrow. “Why? Are you pregnant?”

“No, I'm just speaking hypothetically.” She leaned against him and looked up through her long eyelashes. “But it could be real very soon. We are married.”

Adam nodded and thought about the question. “Well, I really don't know,” he said, rubbing his chin. “It really doesn't make any difference to me. I'd love my son or daughter just the same.” Eve smiled. “What do you think?”

“I think a son would be fine,” she murmured. “What kind of hair should he have?”

Adam didn't hesitate. “Blonde, just like you. I always wished I had been born with blonde hair.”

She gave a tinkling laugh. “Blonde hair would certainly go with your beautiful eyes. I think our son should have those, too.” Eve traced a pattern with her fingers on his chest. “I want him to be as tall as you, too. In college you had girls swooning over you left and right.”

He grinned. “And I picked you, didn't I? It's funny, actually. The jock ended up with the smartest and most beautiful girl on campus.” She smiled demurely and wrapped her arms around him. “Speaking of smarts, I hope this little son of ours is smart. Dashing good looks aren't the solution to everything.”

“But they're key to getting what you want. He will need your brow-” She kissed it. “-your nose-” She kissed that. “-and your mouth.” She kissed him and tugged at his lip playfully. He played along and kissed back, smiling between them. “What do you think?” she asked, pulling away slightly.

“I think you're very flattering,” Adam laughed. “But I think that our imaginary son should get your mouth. It would be odd to see a blonde version of me walking around, don't you think?”

She giggled at the joke and placed a hand on his chest endearingly. “Last question, I promise. Does your family have any kind of genetic illnesses or tendencies? Our son wouldn't need to receive that.”

“Cancer usually gets one of us,” Adam answered, taken aback by the question's seriousness. He wondered when their hypothetical son had become so real. “Can I ask why you're talking about this? Are you really pregnant?” He would have jumped in joy if she had been, but then she did something odd. Eve pulled out a brochure from her pocket and handed it to him.

“My supervisor gave this to me. He told me that it would change our life like it changed his,” she explained while Adam gazed at the title in surprise. “What do you think?” He didn't know what to think. The first thought that entered his mind was Can we even afford this?, and the second was Isn't this dangerous? His misgivings were clear on his face, and Eve again offered the fruit from the bowl before he could speak.

“Apple?” This time, Adam took it and took a bite. Juices spurted from the apple and dribbled down his chin. It was delicious, neither too sweet or too bitter, and the texture was perfect. The white under the red skin was pale as snow. Eve smiled winningly as he took another bite. He couldn't seem to have enough of it. He swallowed and regarded the brochure again.

Suddenly, the idea didn't seem too outlandish, and he seriously pondered it. If I could pull a few strings, he thought, The money will be there. He opened the brochure and read the hazards. There was none, and he grinned. A matching grin rest on his wife's lips which he kissed lovingly. “Alright, I'm game. Do you want to?” She returned the kiss and laughed.

“I want nothing else but to raise our son.”

The next day at work, Adam maneuvered through the writhing throngs of people on the stock exchange's floor and opened the door to his small but comfortable office. He picked up the cordless phone from its stand and dialed the number to his most generous client who gave millions away daily in donations, public and private. He settled in his chair while he waited.

There was a pause for the dial tone, and in two rings, a bored male voice answered the phone. “This is Mr. Risinger's office. How can I serve you?”

“Gabriel, this is Adam. Can you transfer me to Jason?”

On the other end, Gabriel brightened. “Adam! Of course I can do that. Can I ask what you need to talk to Michael about?”

“Just private business. Nothing important. His investments are as healthy as ever.”

Gabriel transferred the call, and there was barely a pause before Michael's deep voice came through. “Adam, it's nice of you to call. Gabriel said you have private matters to discuss with me?” Adam told him about his and Eve's decision, and Michael harrumphed uncertainly. “Think about what you're doing, Adam. This is questionably ethical and something I would never do.”

“Please, Michael. I just need one of your donations. It's chump change to what you usually give out.”

“Yes, but when I donate, I make sure that my funds are being used to help people, not to further a selfish cause.”

Adam leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Look, Mr. Risinger, how much money have I made you since you've been my client?”

“Lots, and I'm grateful to you.”

“Then return the favor. My wife and I need this.” A long silence followed, and Adam thought Michael had hung up before he heard a disappointed sigh. “Mr. Risinger? Michael? What is it?”

“I can't do it, Mr. Celeste,” he replied. “It's-it's not something I would ever do or let someone else do. Please rethink your choice.” He halted and sighed again. “I thought you were better than that. I know my boss did.” He hung up, and Adam listened to the tone for several minutes before running a hand through his hair.

He reluctantly dialed the number of another client, one he didn't entirely trust. The phone hadn't rung even once before an oily voice hissed, “Hello?” Adam winced as if the man pained him, and he slowly explained the decision. The client chuckled darkly. “I will certainly help you, Adam. I'm not as noble as Mr. Risinger, and I can understand why you're so anxious.” Adam shifted uneasily, and the man reassured him that the money would be available whenever he needed it. “I've always wanted to help you somehow.” There was an edge to his next words. “You can return the favor later.”

The phone went dead, and Adam stared at it, doubting himself. Was this decision really worth owing the client a favor? Adam had always taken care of his stock dutifully, and that client could be snappish and petty at times but then charming and convincing at others. And there was something about his voice, something that made shivers crawl down his back. Was the risk greater than the reward?

He shook his head and straightened, reaching for the phone to carry on normal business. His resolve was strong again. He and Eve were starting a family, and the money would help them reach that first step. Why had he doubted it in the beginning?

Weeks later, he and Eve sat in the sterile office of a bland doctor who informed them about their decision and its possible consequences. After his monotone, mandatory speech, he handed them a stack of paperwork. With the client's oily words still in his mind, Adam flourished his signature on the bottoms, but one slot held contention.

“What should we name him?” asked Eve. “I'm embarrassed that we didn't even give that any thought.”

“So am I,” Adam admitted. He tapped his chin pensively. Many names floated around his mind, but one distinguished itself from the others. “Cain. His name should be Cain.”

“Cain?” she repeated, rolling it on her tongue. She nodded slowly. “Cain. I love it.” Adam wrote in the last slot, and they returned the papers to the doctor. Once the papers were in hand, the doctor spoke again in the same flat tone.

“We will need gametes from both of you. If you will follow me, I will lead you to the room.” After they had given and walked outside the clinic, Eve pecked Adam on the lips. She was slightly sore from the procedure, but the fact that she would carry their child in a month or two excited her.

“I love you, honey.”

He smiled, but then it faded as the slithering words came to mind. “What is it?”

“It-it's nothing, darling. I just hope I'm cut out to be a father.”

She shook her head and hugged him. “Don't worry, Adam. You'll be the father that every child will envy Cain for.”

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and the coming months were a mixture of tension and euphoria for him. When Eve started to show, Adam's stress would ease just a little every time he saw her bulging belly. However, he was stuck waiting for the oily man's call to return the favor. Everyday he made the same routine calls to all his clients but remained poise to switch calls if needed. He hoped that the man would forget, but inwardly he knew that was not going to happen.

Still, their happiness far outweighed his anxiety, and he thought it a fair trade-off even if doubts would creep into his mind every so often. As Cain's due date grew closer, they went through the motions of normal, rich parents. Eve would invite her friends over for grand baby showers that cost thousands, and Adam worried about if they had enough room in their spacious apartment. It calmed him down, and when he received a phone call stating that Eve was in labor at the hospital.

Now, he sat in the opulent waiting room His feet drummed against the granite floor, and his hands beat a rhythm on his thighs. His tie, this one black, was rumpled and hung loosely, and his shirt sleeves were pushed up to the elbows, the picture of worry. Nine, long months of waiting had led to this. Eve hadn't wanted him to be in the delivery room, so now he was stuck waiting yet again.

His cell phone vibrated, and he considered not answering before unwillingly pulling it from his pocket. He stiffened at the caller ID and put it up to his ear. “Hello?”

“Adam, how nice of you to pick up.” The oily voice had lost its magic and sounded like nails against a chalkboard. “Do you remember our agreement all those months ago?” His s's were drawn-out, raising the hair on the back of Adam's neck.

“Yes, I do.”

“Good, good. I'm calling in my favor. You're in charge of Mr. Risinger's stocks? You have his ear?”

“Yes.” A rock settled in Adam's stomach.

“Then bring his company crashing down on top of him.”

“What?” Adam demanded in shock. “Do you know what that would do to the market? His company is involved in almost every field, and if he goes away, everything goes belly-up!”

“Do it, Adam.”

“I will not.”

“Too bad. I was thinking of letting you keep your child if you helped me.”

The rock turned icy. “You wouldn't dare,” he whispered.

“I would, and I will. You bring Michael Risinger's and his superior's company down, and you keep your child. If you don't... ” The grating voice chuckled like rocks rolling down a mountainside. “Well, I've always wanted a son.” The line went dead, and the phone dropped from Adam's hand. He stared at the floor, conflicted over what to do. He didn't doubt the man's power, but to bring down Michael was unspeakable. He was a charitable man, a man that the world needed now and in the future.

But was he worth as much as Adam's son?

A slow shake of the head answered that, and a doctor came through the double doors and smiled tiredly. “It's done, Mr. Celeste.” Adam stood, and a wave of relief washed over him. The doctor motioned for him to follow. “There were no complications, even with the development of your son,” the doctor stated. “Young Cain has the genetic markers for your athletic abilities and your wife's intelligence. The geneticist even managed to turn off the hereditary marker for your family's cancer. It's a miracle of science to dictate who your child will be, no?”

Adam barely listened as they came into the room where Eve rested. She looked up tiredly, bags and shadows under her eyes, but her expression was proud. She cradled their child in her arms, and she held Cain out for his father to see. Under pink eyelids, Adam could glimpse sky-blue eyes matching his own, and the fuzz on the baby's head was the same shade of gold as his mother's. “What do you think, honey?” he asked, the promise he had made echoing in his head.

She smiled. “He's perfect.”