Baby for Sale
Disclaimer: I only own this plot. I do not own High School Musical.
Previously on Baby for Sale...
I'm going back to New York City and I'm going to get my money.
Chapter 10: Finally, they meet, but...
Sharpay is snuggled deep into her goose down comforter. She's not asleep; but by the same token, she's not fully awake either. She's in that warm, cozy, half-awake state where she's not quite ready to face the day yet.
"Goood morning, Sharpay!", Cynthia croons as she breezes into Sharpay's bedroom.
Oh God, not her again. Sharpay pulls the covers over her head and tries to hide from the overly chipper woman.
"Oh no you don't", Cynthia says as she starts to pull the comforter back.
"You Are Not My Mother, Cynthia!", Sharpay hisses at her. "I thought I was supposed to have my own living space. That means you have to stop barging in here whenever you feel like it."
"Oh", Cynthia says, sounding hurt at Sharpay's words, "Well, I just thought you'd like to meet Thomas' brother."
"And why on earth, would I want to meet Thomas' brother?", Sharpay asks sarcastically as she surrenders her warm haven and sits up in bed.
"Why dear, I thought you knew. He's the donor", Cynthia states matter-of-factly.
"What? I...I thought the donor was ... ", she hates to say this aloud since she finds him so distasteful, "Thomas."
It's a good thing that Cynthia wasn't drinking anything because she surely would have just spewed it across the room.
"Oh that's a good one, that is", she says in a scoffing tone. "For reasons I won't get into, Thomas' swimmers are, well, let's just say, defective. No, Sharpay. Your donor is Thomas' brother", and then, she immediately corrects herself and amends, "more correctly, he's Thomas' half-brother."
"Oh ... well ... I guess it would be a good thing for the two of us to meet", Sharpay decides and she rises to head towards the bathroom.
HSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSM
Troy emerges out of the subway with a huge chip on his shoulder. He'd had to cut his winter break short to rush back to New York City to settle this financial problem. It's January 7th and school starts in one week and his tuition hasn't been paid yet. He should have known this would happen. Those people are selfish, worthless, soulless aristocrats. They've been treating him like scum since the day he was born. Well, that's not quite true. He didn't even know they existed until he was fifteen years old. That's when his mother received the telephone call that changed his life.
"Hello?", Jennifer answered the telephone in her normal, pleasant voice. Then, she immediately tensed as she listened to what the caller was telling her. She responded with a few short answers as the person on the other end of the line was doing most of the talking.
Everything about her changed so quickly that even her fifteen year old son, sitting at the kitchen table working on his homework, noticed it. Troy started to study her intently. Her whole body went stiff and her face paled and she looked very shaky. She was forced to grab onto the back of one of the chairs at the kitchen table to steady herself. Not normally a nosy person, Troy couldn't wait until she got off the phone to find out what's happening.
She ended the call with a curt, "I understand. ... I'll have to talk this over with my husband before we come to any decision. ... Fine ... Yes ... Goodbye." She ended the call with a long, ragged exhale.
Then, ... she didn't say anything. She simply went back to preparing dinner ... like nothing had happened.
"Mom?", Troy questioned with concern. "Are you okay? What was that call about?"
"Nothing", she snapped out quickly. Then, she took another deep breath and continued in an apologetic tone. "I'm sorry, Troy. That ... that call just left me shaken. I promise I'll tell you what's going on, but I need to talk to your father first."
"Sure, I understand", Troy told her, even though he didn't.
Dinner was a solemn event. With nervous glances shot back and forth between all three of them. Troy quickly excused himself when he was finished and headed to his room. He purposely left his door open, hoping to hear parts of their anticipated conversation. He knew his mom had given his dad a small heads-up about the mysterious telephone call because he's never seen his dad look so nervous before, but she didn't have time to tell him everything. He strained his ears to hear them and he heard ... absolutely nothing. He crept across the hall and peeked out his parent's bedroom window which faced the rear of the house.
There they were, standing in the backyard speaking lowly, but very intensely, to each other. His father looked angry and his mother meek, not a look she usually assumed. He could only hear snatches of conversation and it didn't make a lot of sense to him.
Jennifer Bolton was standing with her arms crossed in front of her in a defensive posture. She said pleadingly, "... but he's dying, Jack."
Jack stormed back at his wife, "And why should we care, Jen? Hell ... have you forgotten how you were treated by those people?"
"But Troy may be his only chance."
"I don't think this is a good idea."
She ran her fingers nervously through her hair and asked the question, "Don't you think it's about time we told Troy the truth?"
Jack had his hands at his side with defeat written all over his face, "Damn ... I don't know. How's he going to take it? I mean ... how's he going to ..."
"Jack, Troy loves you to distraction. That will never change", Jennifer Bolton reassured her husband.
"I hope you're right, Jen. I hope to God you're right."
They clasped their hands together and started to head back into the house. Troy quickly ran back to his room and hooked up his Sony Discman and lied back on his bed, trying to calm his breathing.
Less than five minutes later, there came the inevitable knock on his door. Together, Jack and Jennifer Bolton entered their son's room to explain in eerily calm voices how they had been living a lie for the past fifteen years.
HSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSM
"He's on his way up", Cynthia announces as she walks into Thomas' study. "He sounds royally ticked. What have you done, Thomas?", she asks suspiciously.
"Meee?", Thomas asks with false surprise. "What makes you think this is my fault?"
"Because it usually is, that's why", Cynthia states. She walks over to the bar and pours herself a bourbon.
"You know, you shouldn't be drinking in your condition, darling", indicating her fake pregnancy tummy.
"Oh, can it, you ass and tell me what's going on", she demands as she downs her drink.
"Weeeell", he sighs and swivels his luxurious leather chair back and forth in a lazy motion. "It appears that there was some miscommunication with my accountant and my dear brother's second payment slipped through the cracks."
"Miscommunication, my eye!", she exclaims as she rushes over and grips the arms of the chair tightly to stop his inane swiveling. "I saw the cashier's check, Thomas. What did you do with it?", she demands angrily.
"Okay, so maybe I found something else more worthy to spend it on. It's no big deal. He called yesterday and I've already had the accountant send over another check."
"Give it, now", she demands in a menacing tone. "I'll hand it over to him myself."
The chime of the door bell starts and Cynthia calls out to the butler.
"Fulton, show him directly into the sitting room. We'll meet him there."
"Certainly, madam", Fulton clips back to her as he straightens his morning coat and heads toward the door.
Cynthia turns back to Thomas and explains, "We'll just let him cool his heels for awhile. Just to let him know who's in charge."
HSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSM
Thinking back to that night, Troy has worked himself up into a right funk. When this snooty looking older man opens the door and looks down his nose at him, Troy is in no mood to be pleasant. Therefore, it should come as no surprise when he blasts out at the man, "Where's Thomas!?"
Seemingly unfazed by the young man's outburst, Fulton replies calmly, "Right this way, ... sir."
Then, without waiting to see if Troy is following, Fulton turns and walks off toward a set of closed doors. He opens the double doors with a flourish and motions for Troy to enter. Fulton, himself, stays outside the room.
Troy follows him with a grumble and walks into the empty sitting room. He whirls around when he realizes that Thomas is no where to be seen.
"Hey! You were supposed to take me see Thomas! Where is he?", Troy yells at the butler.
Fulton replies in his unflappable voice, "Mr. And Mrs. Vanderbilt will be with you shortly, sir."
With that, he closes the doors and Troy hears the lock turn.
"Damn", Troy murmurs. Have I just been punk'd?
He slowly starts to walk around the ornate room. It's as over the top as everything else in this family.
It takes him back to a similarly overly decorated house,..., no, mansion, he went to with his mother.
Troy and Jennifer entered the dimly lit room and as soon as Troy's eyes adjust, he saw a figure lying motionless in an ornate bed in the center of the room. A nurse was sitting next to the bed reading a novel and she quickly put it away and stood up when she noticed them.
"Mr. Vanderbilt is sleeping now", she whispered.
Troy started to walk forward curiously, but Jennifer stayed next to the open doorway.
"Nonsense, Rebecca", a weak voice rasped out. "I'm awake; send them over. I want to take a look at my savior."
Troy walked up to the foot of the bed and stared up at the man with ill-disguised hatred. Jennifer didn't move.
"Come closer, boy!", the deathly pale older man ordered him in a scratchy voice.
Troy begrudgingly walked up to the head of the bed on the side opposite the nurse.
"So you're Jennifer's boy, eh?", the old man said as he studied Troy, obviously sizing him up. "Huh, you have my eyes, you know?" The wizened old man had runny-looking, faded blue eyes. Troy could hear his mother inhale sharply behind him.
"Look, I'm not interested in getting to know you or knowing anything about you. I'm only doing this for my mom. I'll let them do the test and I'll do the transplant if I'm a match, but that's it. I don't ever want to see you again. Do you understand me?", he spat out.
"You remind me a lot of myself at your age."
Troy didn't offer a reply. He simply turned on his heel and quickly exited the room. Jennifer was about to follow him when the old man called out to her.
"Jennifer, wait!", he called in a stronger, demanding voice. Then, he softens slightly and amended, "Please, let me talk to you."
She slowly approached the bed, but stopped about six feet short of it.
"You're still a beautiful woman, Jennifer."
"I was still a child when we last saw each other, William --- barely seventeen years old --- a child who was mesmerized by an older, sophisticated man who took an interest in her. I'm not that child anymore --- not by a long shot." With that, she turned on her heel and left the room.
On her way out, she could barely hear his whispered apology, "I'm so sorry, Jennifer."
She didn't acknowledge him.
Cynthia unlocks and opens the sitting room doors with a welcoming smile. If it's one thing Troy knows to be cautious of, it's a welcoming Cynthia Vanderbilt. However, the sight of this normally pencil-thin woman with a protruding stomach is enough to halt Troy mid-rant.
"Hello, Cyn...", Troy trails off in shock and continues to stare at her mid-section.
"Troy, darling", she drolls as she draws him into a tight embrace. "It's soooo good to see you again. It's been ages. What is it? Four or five years? You're soooo grown up now", she says as she slowly strokes his muscular arms.
"Seven", he snaps back and then pulls away from her reach. "It's been seven years, Cynthia."
"Yes, of course. That dreadful business with your father."
"Don't call him that. William Vanderbilt was never a father to me. He was just ... just ... "
"A sperm donor?", Thomas Vanderbilt supplies as he walks over to join the two. "It's amazing how things have come full circle, isn't it?"
Troy guiltily flashes a glance at Cynthia's pregnant stomach and starts to feel a little queasy.
"Although as I remember it, there was a lot more than just a donation going on between your mother and our father, wasn't there?", Thomas continues.
"Don't talk about my mother like that, Thomas. You know as well as I do what ... our father did to her", Troy hisses. "She was little more than a child."
Ignoring Troy's comments, Thomas notices how Troy was staring at Cynthia and he decides to set him straight. "And don't be ridiculous, Troy. Cynthia's not the one carrying your progeny", he says pointing at Cynthia. "Cynthia doesn't have a womb. Do you dear?"
"No", she answers shortly. And then to Troy, she explains, "I had cervical cancer many years ago, Troy. I was forced to have a hysterectomy. I can't carry a child."
"But ... ", Troy says in confusion as he points at her belly.
"Oh, this old thing", Cynthia says, indicating her stomach. "It's just your standard strap-on model." She lifts her blouse to show him the hidden expanse of stryo-foam.
"I'm so confused", Troy groans.
"Cynthia needs to appear pregnant in order to collect the inheritance", Thomas explains.
Cynthia gives Thomas a warning glance which he brushes off. "Oh, come now, Cynthia. Troy's family. Surely, we can let him in on our little secret ... for the right price." With that, he retrieves the cashier's check from the top of the desk and hands it over to a stunned Troy Bolton.
Troy takes the pro-offered check and looks down at the amount ... and is speechless. $250,000!!!
"I thought it would be better for you to get your fair share of this money. Don't you?", Thomas says in a conspiratorial manner.
"Well, ... this is a lot more than I expected. And I don't understand, if Cynthia isn't really pregnant than what are you paying me for?"
"Oh, there is a Vanderbilt heir. It's just not being carried by Cynthia."
"We hired a surrogate", Cynthia provides. "A young girl down on her luck and willing to help us on our little project."
"Yes, and willing to take our money in exchange for the use of her body for nine months and her silence about the true nature of the project."
"And what ... exactly ... is the true nature this project?", Troy asks vehemently.
"Well ... it's all about dear old Uncle Cecil...", Thomas starts to explain as Cynthia continues to watch him carefully, trying to determine why Thomas is spilling the beans to his half-brother. She casually walks over the sitting room bar and, this time, pours Troy a shot of vodka. He's going to need it.
Ten minutes later, Troy is finishing his second shot and is still staring at the enormous check in his hands.
"So this girl ... the surrogate ... she knows all about this too?"
"Of course", Thomas quips.
"And she received an amount this large?", he asked, indicating to the check. Troy doesn't know why he's so interested, but he just needs to know.
"Well, her commitment is greater than yours, so her compensation is larger, accordingly."
"Wow..." He's still staring at the check. "But this is more than I needed", Troy starts.
"Just consider it a down payment on graduate school", Cynthia croons. Finally, seeing where Thomas is trying to lead the young man. "And your assurance that this information goes no further than this room."
"Uhhh, sure. No one would believe me anyway", Troy says as he rises from the comfortable sofa and prepares to leave.
"So, we shouldn't need to see you again. Agreed?", Thomas asks him cautiously.
"Oh absolutely", Troy says honestly.
HSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSM
Sharpay is standing in front of the hallway mirror, checking her makeup. I'm not primping for a sperm donor, am I? Of course not, I'm just trying to look nice. You should always try to make a good first impression. God, Sharpay, you sound just like your mother.
She wanders over to the kitchen where Fulton is preparing lunch.
"What's taking them so long, Fulton?", Sharpay asks as she snatches a carrot stick off the tray. At a little over four months, her appetite has definitely picked up, but she's trying her best to make healthy choices.
"Well, not that we should be discussing the personal lives of our employers", Fulton says as he leans closer to Sharpay and she just rolls her eyes, "but apparently, Mr. Vanderbilt's younger brother is dissatisfied with his payment for his ... contribution ... to ..." His eyes drop lasciviously to her stomach and she self-consciously crosses her arms in a protective gesture.
"You mean he charged his own brother for ... for", but she can't finish.
"Yes ... he did. And it wasn't enough and now he's here demanding more." Fulton's eyes light up at the thought of the gossip he is conveying. He thought he would have to wait until he arrived back home that evening to spread this latest rumor, but this is much better than telling Mother. Why, the shocked expression on Sharpay's face is delicious.
"That's horrible", she replies truthfully. "I'm not sure I even want to meet him anymore."
At that moment the study door opens and Cynthia comes out, followed by Thomas and a younger man with light brown hair who is currently hidden behind Thomas. Because of the penthouse's open floor plan, there is no way that the three of them can't notice Sharpay and Fulton standing in the kitchen. Cynthia sees them first and flounces over to Sharpay with a smile on her face.
"Sharpay, dear. Here's the man of the hour --- our very own, Troy Bolton", she croons as the young man steps out from behind Thomas, and Sharpay gets her first good look at him.
"And Troy", Cynthia continues, "This is the girl we were telling you about, Sharpay Evans."
Sharpay's eyes widen to the size of saucers and at the same time her vision narrows to a pinpoint as she locks eyes with him.
"Oh God", she exclaims as she takes a few hesitant steps toward him. "It's you." It's the very same man who's been haunting her dreams, both day and night, for the past four and a half months. And she finally has a name, Troy. What a beautiful name! She takes a few more steps closer to him when she notices the look in his eyes. For some reason she thought she would see her own expression of wonderment and joy reflect in them. Instead, she sees ... open disdain.
When he first sees her, Troy is immediately taken back to that night four and a half months ago. And he's thrilled, but then he looks down at her stomach and remembers what Thomas and Cynthia just told him about their surrogate. She is a part of this conspiracy --- a very big part of it. They had paid her to carry their child, correction, ... his child. And apparently, they had paid her a lot --- a lot more than they paid him. How could he have misjudged her? He'd been living this fantasy in his mind about what it would be like when he finds her, but this definitely isn't it. And another thing, he made his donation to this project back in August and by the looks of her, she's probably five or six months pregnant. So ... hell ... she could have already been pregnant when we were together last fall ... with my baby. No, that's not right. I'm just the donor and she's just the surrogate. You can't think about it like that.
Therefore, Troy decides to not think about it at all. Instead, he decides to lash out at this woman who's ruled his life for so long.
"You!", he seethes, "You're their surrogate, their womb for rent!" He spits out with venom dripping from the voice.
"I ... I ... well, yes", Sharpay concedes as she cradles her stomach. And then, it hits her. This man, this incubus of her dreams, is the father of her baby. NO! That's not right. He's the sperm donor for his brother and his wife. And he charged them! And then, he came back to demand more money! Her Ice Queen mask that she perfected in high school, came sliding down into place. "And who the hell are you to talk to me like that? You're little more than a whore yourself", she spits back at him.
"Well, it takes one to know one", Troy snaps and then, he turns and exits quickly through the front door with a loud slam. I can't believe I wasted all that time trying to find her. Well, that's over with; now, I'm going to enjoy myself.
Sharpay bursts into tears and runs down the hallway toward her rooms. I can't believe this happened. Even if he is a callous bastard, she still loves him with all her heart --- a heart that is currently breaking in half.
Thomas looks over at Cynthia and sighs with contentment. "Aaaah, this went better than I'd hoped."
Cynthia eyes Thomas curiously and asks him, "You mean you planned all this?"
He shrugs and says, "Well, they obviously know each other, but I had no way of knowing about that. However, I did want to stir up some animosity between the two of them."
"Why would you want to do that?", Cynthia asks.
"Well, you know what they say, 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend.'"
"What the hell does that have to do with anything?"
"If we keep them separated, they won't ban together and turn against us", he replies. "Sharpay is already getting suspicious. Keeping them apart will only serve us. And now that Troy has accepted an exorbitantly large fee for wanking into a jar, he's tied himself to this project. Even if he tries to cause trouble later, no one would believe he didn't know about everything from the beginning."
"Now I remember why I married you, dear", Cynthia says with pride.
TBC
Here's what I have to say about that...
I've been visiting relatives for Christmas and this is the first chance I've had to get access to the internet. I'm suffering serious withdrawal. Right now, I'm in a hotel in the Knoxville, TN with my family and hurrah!, there's high speed internet here.
You all hate me now, don't you? Well, I did call it a Romance/Angst, didn't I? Can I redeem myself by promising you that it will end well. I swear.
In Troy's flashback to when he was 15, that would have been in 2000. I don't think Ipods had been invented and most people didn't have MP3 players. That's why he is listening to his Sony Discman.
Somebody made a really close guess about Troy's parentage, but it was wrong. There'll be more about that later.
And yes, Fulton lives with his mother.
If you like, please let me know. If you don't, please let me know.