full of holes and assassinated . Maybe Martine wasn’t a relative, not Boris’ sister after all but simply just someone with the same last name. God, Mick hoped so. If anyone tried to lock my sister up as a breeding bitch, I wouldn’t take it so well.
“More babies today, Mr. Puglisi?” The wide tree of a man took up most of his view.
“Yes, ten are coming with me today.”
“I’ll open the gates wide then lock them behind you.”
Great, nothing to worry about. Business as usual. Mick thanked every Catholic saint he could name as he drove the baby transport van through the imposing gates.
He parked the company van in front of the main building and watched the girls as they walked by, most of them sporting big bellies. Some had dreadlocks, some braids, and some nappy Buckwheat hairdos. All Mick really saw in them were dollar signs.
A couple of the girls smiled at him and waved. Others cowered and avoided him. He didn’t care either way. This was a business, not a popularity contest. He was forced to do a lot of things in his line of work that would send lesser men running for the hills. At the end of the day, his father was proud of him, and Mick ran a successful and lucrative business. His son Luke had every toy and comfort money could by. If people lower down the food chain had to suffer, well, that was just survival of the fittest.
He walked through the clinic’s front door and straight to the nursery wing.
“Mick, hi.” Tad’s wave was tentative. He looked tired and pasty. Mick would have thought all the sun and heat would have darkened Tad up a bit over the years, given him some color; but he was the same old skinny, lanky pale kid he’d always been. Except now he wore a white jacket.
“How’s it going, Doc? Everyone healthy?”
“The babies are ready to go.”
“Good! Got the paperwork?”
“Yes, but Mick, you know I really don’t think implanting the twins is a good idea.”
“Worrying as usual I see.” The doctor’s whining phrase—I really don’t think it’s a good idea—had become a mantra with Tad.
“Come on, Tad. It’s how they do it in the outside world, in all the big fertility clinics out there. They always implant a few and hope at least one takes.”
“This is different and you know it. We’ve made medical strides they don’t know about which gives us a much higher pregnancy success rate.”
Mick smirked. “And your point is?”
“The purpose of implanting a few embryos at a time is because they hope one attaches and grows into a fetus. At Maison, with the technology we have, most of the embryos, hell, almost all of them, attach so we end up with multiple births. If you keep this up these surrogates will deliver twins over and over again.”
“Tad, you always were too soft. The bottom line is more product, less time. Ten kids instead of five this month. Five pregnancies and ten infants make for a pretty damn good profit margin.”
Tad made his holier-than-thou, Mick-you’re-a-monster face.
Mick hated that look. “What?”
Tad ushered him down the hall into his office and shut the door behind them. “These are humans we’re talking about here, Mick. Humans. Real girls who are having child after child. Do you have any idea what kind of exertion that puts on their bodies? You put twins in there, and if they both take it’s twice the strain. And then, God, you separate the twins and send them off to live in different homes.”
“Not always.”
Tad raised an eyebrow.
“Last month I adopted a pair together,” Mick defended. “Two brothers birthed to Natalie or Marjorie . . . whatever her name is.”
“Nali?”
“I don’t know, but they were cute little boys, and I was in a beneficent mood.”
“How much more did the parents pay?”
Mick frowned. Tad was overstepping his boundaries. “Drop it, Tad. If you don’t want to work here anymore, leave. I’ll find someone else in a minute.”
Mick knew he wouldn’t go. Tad love d Martine. It
“More babies today, Mr. Puglisi?” The wide tree of a man took up most of his view.
“Yes, ten are coming with me today.”
“I’ll open the gates wide then lock them behind you.”
Great, nothing to worry about. Business as usual. Mick thanked every Catholic saint he could name as he drove the baby transport van through the imposing gates.
He parked the company van in front of the main building and watched the girls as they walked by, most of them sporting big bellies. Some had dreadlocks, some braids, and some nappy Buckwheat hairdos. All Mick really saw in them were dollar signs.
A couple of the girls smiled at him and waved. Others cowered and avoided him. He didn’t care either way. This was a business, not a popularity contest. He was forced to do a lot of things in his line of work that would send lesser men running for the hills. At the end of the day, his father was proud of him, and Mick ran a successful and lucrative business. His son Luke had every toy and comfort money could by. If people lower down the food chain had to suffer, well, that was just survival of the fittest.
He walked through the clinic’s front door and straight to the nursery wing.
“Mick, hi.” Tad’s wave was tentative. He looked tired and pasty. Mick would have thought all the sun and heat would have darkened Tad up a bit over the years, given him some color; but he was the same old skinny, lanky pale kid he’d always been. Except now he wore a white jacket.
“How’s it going, Doc? Everyone healthy?”
“The babies are ready to go.”
“Good! Got the paperwork?”
“Yes, but Mick, you know I really don’t think implanting the twins is a good idea.”
“Worrying as usual I see.” The doctor’s whining phrase—I really don’t think it’s a good idea—had become a mantra with Tad.
“Come on, Tad. It’s how they do it in the outside world, in all the big fertility clinics out there. They always implant a few and hope at least one takes.”
“This is different and you know it. We’ve made medical strides they don’t know about which gives us a much higher pregnancy success rate.”
Mick smirked. “And your point is?”
“The purpose of implanting a few embryos at a time is because they hope one attaches and grows into a fetus. At Maison, with the technology we have, most of the embryos, hell, almost all of them, attach so we end up with multiple births. If you keep this up these surrogates will deliver twins over and over again.”
“Tad, you always were too soft. The bottom line is more product, less time. Ten kids instead of five this month. Five pregnancies and ten infants make for a pretty damn good profit margin.”
Tad made his holier-than-thou, Mick-you’re-a-monster face.
Mick hated that look. “What?”
Tad ushered him down the hall into his office and shut the door behind them. “These are humans we’re talking about here, Mick. Humans. Real girls who are having child after child. Do you have any idea what kind of exertion that puts on their bodies? You put twins in there, and if they both take it’s twice the strain. And then, God, you separate the twins and send them off to live in different homes.”
“Not always.”
Tad raised an eyebrow.
“Last month I adopted a pair together,” Mick defended. “Two brothers birthed to Natalie or Marjorie . . . whatever her name is.”
“Nali?”
“I don’t know, but they were cute little boys, and I was in a beneficent mood.”
“How much more did the parents pay?”
Mick frowned. Tad was overstepping his boundaries. “Drop it, Tad. If you don’t want to work here anymore, leave. I’ll find someone else in a minute.”
Mick knew he wouldn’t go. Tad love d Martine. It
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