"Blaine? Hi. It's Reese," Reese spoke into the telephone receiver.
"Oh hi! I've been trying to call you. How's it going?"
Reese smiled brightly at the cheerfulness of his voice. "Fine. Busy," she replied, her voice quick and nervous. "I got your messages. This is the first free moment I've found to call."
"It's alright. It's nice to hear from you."
"You too," she replied, relieved that he couldn't see her blushing.
"Are you busy tomorrow night? I was thinking about going to a concert on campus and I thought you might want to come with me."
"Yeah, maybe. It depends on how the meeting with my client goes this morning . . .Oh, I'm sorry, Blaine. I have to go. My secretary is buzzing me." After a quick goodbye, Reese switched lines. "Yes?"
"Mr. Sexton is here."
"Thank you. Send him in."
A moment later, Craig entered the office. Reese greeted him and invited him to have a seat.
Reese cleared her throat and adjusted the papers in front of her on the desk. She could tell Craig was already agitated, so she spoke in what she hoped was a soothing tone. "While you were away I checked with the copyright office. As I expected, Mr. Spencer has applied for a copyright on the songs in question."
"That's not good, is it?"
"No, if he holds the copyright than you won't be able to use the songs yourself without paying royalties to him. But-" Reese added quickly before Craig could get a word in. "We can contest that his application was fraudulent, that these songs were a joint work, and that your name should be added to the copyright."
"Great. Then do it."
"First, Mr. Sexton. I need tangible proof that you co-authored these songs."
"Of course I wrote them. How am I supposed to prove something like that? I know the truth and so does James."
"Do you have a written copy of your songs or a recorded copy of one of your performances? Something that can be dated would be preferable. Are there any witnesses who can testify that you collaborated on the songs or who would have heard you perform them before Mr. Spencer applied for the copyright? I can't guarantee that these pieces of evidence will win your case, but they would certainly help."
Craig sighed, "I'll see what I can find."
"Excuse me," Reese said as she pressed the blinking button on her telephone. "Yes?"
"I'm sorry to bother you, Miss Burroughs," the receptionist's voice spoke through the speaker. "I have a call for Mr. Sexton on line one. It's his wife and she says it's urgent."
Reese looked at Craig questioningly. When he nodded, she thanked her secretary and handed the receiver to Craig.
"Lucy? What's going on?"
"Craig," she gasped, her voice, desperate. "I need you to come home."
"What's wrong?"
"I think I'm having the baby."
"I'll be right there. Just hold on, babe. I'm on my way."
Lucy hung up the phone. As a medical student, she knew just what to expect, but she was still scared about the prospect of having a baby herself and she definitely didn't want to be home alone while she was in labor.
She stood at the front door, looking out. The reporters were still out there and they were blocking the end of the driveway. What if Craig couldn't get back to the house? What if they couldn't get out to get to the hospital?
Lucy went back into the living room. She decided she should call for an ambulance, just in case.
She was halfway to the phone when another contraction hit her. She doubled over in pain and gripped the television stand to hold herself up.
She gritted her teeth and closed her eyes tightly. "Craig, hurry."
Her meeting with Craig cut short, Reese found herself ahead of schedule. She decided to take advantage of the few spare moments and went out to the local coffee shop for a bite to eat.
While waiting in line, she looked away from the counter for a moment. When she turned back around, a man had stepped in front of her and was starting to place his order.
"Excuse me," she said. When he ignored her, she spoke up. "Excuse me. I was next."
James turned around and shrugged. "You should've been paying attention."
As he turned back to the clerk, Reese tried to object. "But- I- You can't-," she sputtered.
"Is there anything else?" the woman behind the counter asked.
James sighed, his conscience getting the better of him. "Yeah, hold on," he said and then turned to Reese. "Look, I'm sorry about cutting in front of you. Let me order for you. What do you want?"
Reese was taken aback, "What?"
"I'm just trying to make up for acting like such a jerk. What are you having?"
"Nothing. I'll place my own order. Thank you."
James stepped back. He hadn't been expecting a rejection, let alone such a cold one. "Fine. Suit yourself."
Suddenly uncomfortable, Reese avoided looking at James again, though she could tell he cast more than one glance in her direction. She was relieved that he didn't try to talk to her again and left immediately after collecting his order.
When Craig arrived at the house, the reporters were gone. Instead a police car was parked in front of the house.
He pulled over to the curb and jumped out of the car. "What's going on?" he asked the police officer.
"Sir, you need to move along."
"But I live here. My wife just called me. She's having our baby."
"It's alright, sir. The paramedics have taken your wife to the hospital. She's doing fine. You can meet her there."
"Thanks," Craig said quickly and hurried back to his car.
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