Quarterback's Surprise Baby (Bad Boy Ballers Book 2) (11 page)

“Of course,” I answer coolly, letting Griff out the door. He's so big and muscular, his body almost fills the frame. I wish more than anything that I were following him out for that drink, but now it’s time to face the music. I turn to Carlton, who has unbridled contempt in his eyes.

“What on earth was that?” Carlton asks. “Another display?”

“What do you mean, sir?” I ask him. “I just did some private detective work on Sabrina Forbes. I had a hunch, and it paid off.”

“I’m not talking about that right now. That’s only part of the problem.” His voice lowers to an ominous whisper. I would be more comfortable if he were yelling, actually, but no such luck. “What, do you think I’m blind or something? You're sleeping with a client of our firm, which we’ve already spoken about. And you lied to me!”

“What are you talking about?” I ask. “Look at the big picture, Carlton. I just won this case for us. I've earned a lot of money for the firm, which is always the bottom line. And I’ve kept us out of the press, unless it’s on our terms. Not only is our client going to have the charges dropped against him, but we also might have a counter suit on our hands, if we wish.” My stomach is starting to turn and I feel nauseated again. “And that will net even
more
money for Smith Williams Smith. I honestly don't know where you're going with this Carlton, because it's 2016.”

“I don't care what fucking year it is,” he says. I jump back a little. I can't help flinching. Carlton has to be at least sixty years old, and when he curses it sounds a lot worse than when someone my age does. His hair plugs are standing at attention. “This sort of behavior has never happened in the history of our firm. A lawyer at Smith Williams Smith, one of the most venerable law firms in the United States, sleeping with a client?” He roars this now, and despite my gratitude that the doors are fairly soundproof in the meeting room, I still cringe with embarrassment “You might as well be
in flagrante delicto
!”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Carlton,” I say. How can I even entertain his bullshit? I’d be fighting back tears if I weren’t so angry. It just feels like my parents all over again—not caring what I’ve gone through to achieve my success, just hearing I’m not good enough.

“And now it's more than clear why. If we can't trust
you
to behave yourself, a woman who won this job despite my vehement lack of recommendation, why should we take on any other woman as a partner, much less an employee? I was against your hire from the start and I'm only proven right. Time and time again. And after such a short time.”

“Am I missing something here?” I look around, genuinely confused. “I just spent my own money, sourced a private investigator, and got these horrendous charges dropped. Now, you're talking about how you should never have hired me?” The gall of this man. How dare he tell me I don’t deserve my job when I have gone above and beyond.

“We need unbiased people in our firm Odell.” His face is beet red, now. “People who know how to keep their hands to themselves. Professionals! People whose first loyalty is to the firm, not to whatever good-looking hunk of beefcake happens to hire them for a case that week. Perhaps you had a hunch this woman was taking advantage of all these men because you yourself have your own pattern of taking advantage. Of their sexuality.”

“You have got to be kidding me.” I am flabbergasted. “You can't actually believe the things you're saying. It's preposterous, for one, and sexist for two!”

“Sexist.” He shakes his head. “That’s irrelevant. It's bad, unprofessional behavior, is what it is. And you need to be held responsible for it. I'll be telling this to the other partners, don't you worry. And then we'll see if you have a job here at all.”

I just don't know how to mollify him. If he’s not happy that Sabrina will drop the charges, I can’t win at this firm. “I see. Thank you for attending the meeting today, Carlton. You were a great help. I'll be leaving now.”

I walk out, wishing I could have the satisfaction of slamming the door, but the way it's built makes certain it shuts almost silently. Better for potential clients to think everyone in a law firm is reasonable and not prone to outbursts. I sure don’t feel in control though. It’s my second dramatic walk out in one week, and that’s two too many.

My face is flaming with anger, yet my eyes are still dry as a bone. I am burning hot like an inferno, and ready to destroy everything in my path.

I pull out my phone to call Sandra, and there's a text from Griff. “Hey babe, you were amazing today. Give me a call when you finish up.”

What am I supposed to say to him? I hem and haw, but in the end I decide to ignore the text, and just drive straight to his house. If there's anything that can make me feel better right now, it's the star quarterback, Gryphon James’ beautiful, ruthless, pounding body.

* * *

“
O
h my God
, Odell, you were incredible,” Gryphon says when I come through the door. He picks me up like I'm a doll and spins me around. “Absolutely amazing. They were coming at you, and you dodged and spun and ran with that ball and then you spiked the touchdown! I'm so proud of you!” He kisses me hard on the lips, and then moves his head back, piercing me with his dark blue eyes. “And you must be the star of the firm now! The superstar!” He kisses me again, and when he moves away, his expression is bright. I don't have the heart to tell him that it's actually the opposite: my head is on the chopping block, and it's all and only because of him.

“Thanks,” I say. “But you know what—maybe we shouldn't talk, maybe we should just kiss.” I reach for his mouth, but he’s already moving away.

“But shouldn't we celebrate with a glass of champagne?” he asks. “You've saved my career, lady!” He's strangely graceful as he spins around to the fridge, taking out a fancy looking bottle out and tossing it in the air before catching it. “My whole career! And not only that, but you’re a kickass attorney! Killing it!” he says, dancing around with the bottle. “Winning!”

“Hey, that's champagne,” I say. “Don't shake it up!”

“Aw, it'll be fine! You know I won't drop it. It’s kind of my job , you know, to catch things. Besides, this is how we do it in the clubhouse.” His smile is getting more radiant by the second, as quickly my mood is dropping. “But in the clubhouse, we pour it all over each other when we win. I won’t do that to you,” he says with a crooked grin on his handsome face, “unless you want me to. But seriously, let’s celebrate first!”

“Thanks, but I really don't want a drink. All I want to do is go to bed. Frankly, I just want to fuck.” I grab his hand and try to lead him toward the bedroom, but he stops short, his heels digging into the ground.

“Is that all you want from me Odell?” he asks, suddenly serious. “We just had the biggest day of our lives, and that’s it?”

“Right now, yeah,” I answer. “Come on, Gryphon, don't make me beg.” My voice takes on a whiny tone, and he grimaces.

“I'm not just some fuck-toy to you, am I?” He is standing stock-still.

“Are you kidding? Of course you are,” I answer, laughing, but Griff doesn't laugh. Doesn't he understand that I don't mean that? “Hey Griff, I’m just joking. Come on, let’s go to bed.”

“I see how it is.” There's hurt all over his face. “I'm not good enough for you, am I? Not smart enough to take seriously. Yeah, I see how it is.” He sets the champagne down on the table. “I suspected as much, and it’s clear as day now. Forget it. I thought you would want to celebrate this victory, and be happy that I won't lose my career, but instead, you just want to fuck. I want to have sex with you too, Odell, more than anything. But not if you don't even care about me enough to see me as a person. I thought we were getting closer, but now I know that you don't give a shit. I hoped you were better than that.”

Fucking hell. I don't know what to say. Every word he says about not losing his own career reminds me that everything I’ve worked for is on the line. Why is he making such a fuss, when I need him? I'm not ready to talk about what happened, nor do I want to blame him for the firm's stupidity and attitudes mired in the 1950’s. It’s just too hard though to feel happy about our victory when all it means for me is that I completely fucked myself over.

I grab my bag.

“Yeah, ok, thanks anyway.” I walk out and he shuts the door behind me. The silence in the corridor is deafening, and suddenly the hot tears I’d held back are coming, strong and insistent.

“
C
oach
,” I say. “You wanted to see me?”

“I’m on the phone, right now,” he mouths, receiver in his hand. He holds up a finger. “Yes, Mr. Corbett. I understand the issue. Well, we really appreciate your financial support on this, but I don’t know if he wants to sell.”

I wait. Must be one of those billionaires wanting to buy the team. I saw one of those Corbett boys on a magazine, Forbes I think it was.

“Nicholas? Sure, I’ll call you Nicholas. We’ll be in touch, Nicholas.”

He hangs up. “Thanks for waiting there, Griff, I had one of these rich guys on the phone. Seems nice enough, but you have to play their game to win their money.” He clears his throat. “Gryphon,” he says, voice still hearty. “I was very happy to hear that this nasty business seems to be finally over between you and your uh … ex. Plays a lot better with investors, not having my star quarterback up on charges.”

“That's right sir,” I say slowly, trying to figure out his angle. “She’s dropping them and we’re considering a countersuit. Is that why you called me in?”

“The reason I want to see you, Gryphon, is because I want to know that you'll be giving your absolute all to the game from now on. I’ve tried to be understanding about this mess you’ve gotten into, and I think we all want it to be over. I don't want to deal with a half-assed effort on the field any more from anyone, least of all you, my very expensive star player, and I want your word that you're going to be in peak performance from here on out. You know we need to make the championship and your role is crucial. I want your mind on the game.” He plays with the whistle around his neck. “And nothing but the game. At all times. One hundred and ten percent, you got that James?”

“For sure coach, I will. I always give my best.” My jaw is tightening. Motherfucker. This now? After things finally let up? And if only it were because of Sabrina. My performance was suffering because I was afraid of losing Odell, and now I may have. And good riddance, I tell myself. At least I try to believe it. I’m going to kill it on the field.

“If that's so, James, your best hasn't been very good these days. And if you don't get it together immediately, your place on the team is in jeopardy. And in the league. The NFL doesn’t tolerate half-assed QB’s who flirt with breaking the law, and then don’t play well. If you’re going to do one, you stay away from the other. Stay clean, and play well. You know that, Griff,” he says, his tone changing. “I will not tolerate the team losing because of you. You better know that.”

“I understand, coach,” I say through gritted teeth.

“That’s right. Get out of my sight, James,” he says. “Off with you.”

I walk out the door, determined to give the performance of my life at the game tonight. I’m going to show him.

“Gryphon,” He calls after me. “Hang on.”

I look back through the door frame. “Yeah, coach?”

His brows are knitting together. “I gotta know. What do you do with the team the other day?”

“What do you mean?”

“During practice. They’re a lot more nimble. Agility drills are through the roof.”

I have to smile. It’s not what I did, it’s what Odell did. “That’s a trade secret, sir,” I grin.

“I’ll trade your ass if you don’t tell me what it is,” he smiles back. “Good work, James.”

“Thanks a million, coach.”

“Keep it up. I mean it!”

“You know it.”

S
andra is not impressed
. “What the fuck did you do, Odell?” She hisses as she pulls me closer to her to her side and we find a table.

“Look I don’t need this right now,” I protest. “I don’t feel too well. It’s probably the stress.”

“Do you think? Or is it something else?” She stares at me. “You’re glowing, you know.” We sit down, and I slump a little in the booth before giving her a sharp look. I don’t need her shit right now, especially not when I feel like crap in every single possible way.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I snap.

“Oh, nothing. If it’s anything, you’ll find out soon enough.” She stirs her coffee.

“Well don’t play with me, girl, I need to figure out what I’m going to do. My career is on the line, and I’m not in the mood.” I take a sip of my coffee, and it burns my lip. “Oh shit!” This is not my day. “If you can’t help me, then I don’t know why you even wanted to meet.”

“I wanted to meet because I’m your friend,” Sandra says. “Whether you know it or not. I have been looking out for your best interests since the start. I told you not to get involved with an athlete, and I don’t support you not going to work. Calling in sick? Odell, this isn’t like you.”

Her words sting. Yeah, it’s true. She did tell me that. But you can’t help who you fall for. Gryphon James walked into my life and now he might have ruined it. Left me without a man, and more than likely without a job. All I have now are my friends. And Sandra is my best one.

“I called in sick, because I’m not feeling well at all, and I have to figure out a strategy to keep my job. Sandra, I need you to support me right now, not to say I told you so,” I mutter. “Even if you did tell me so!” Goddamn it, she did tell me so, but does she have to humiliate me?

“Okay, okay. Well, let’s lay it all out here. First, we have to figure out what you’re going to do about Carlton.” She looks thoughtful. “You say that there’s going to be a meeting to decide your fate?”

“Exactly. Tomorrow. But they've had a week to prepare for it, while I’ve been stuck doing odd jobs in the firm. I don't even know if we're doing the counter suit. At least I’ve got this win in my pocket, but with neither Carlton or Gryphon talking to me, I'm really not sure what to do.” I’m picturing a guillotine with my neck in it, and Carlton with the executioner’s mask on. And Griff standing beside him, laughing. “And honestly I don’t understand his problem. I got that witch Sabrina Forbes to drop the case, possibly won us a counter suit, but instead of celebrating, he’s using my relationship as proof that women shouldn’t even be allowed to be lawyers! It's insane.”

“That’s just completely ridiculous.” She slams down her coffee cup. “You might have a real case against him.”

I suddenly remember the recording I made of Carlton’s spouting his bullshit. “That’s true, you know. I do have a secret weapon here.” I tap on my phone. “I secretly recorded some of the ridiculous shit he was spouting during that meeting.”

“It’s a good thing you’re so suspicious!” she laughs. “That was quick thinking on your part.”

“Right!”

“If you can use that as evidence, you might be able to not only secure your position but also get Carlton removed from his,” she says.

“It’s not admissible in court, but it might make me safe with HR. But, the reality is that, if it all goes bad, I also could be blackballed out of my profession. Nobody wants to work with the woman who makes it hard for the men who are trying to keep them down,” I say.

“Well, that’s not entirely accurate,” She answers. Our food arrives, and immediately I feel like hurling. I don’t know why Sandra likes this diner food. It’s so greasy. I push the plate away as she digs in.

“Oh no?” I ask, looking at her sideways.

“You know who wants to work with those women? Other women!”

“Right, that’s true. Smith Williams Smith is not the only firm in this world,” I muse.

“Not by a long shot,” she says. “And if you’re half the lawyer you appear to be, then you’ll find another job. In a place that values you for more than just a token to look inclusionary,” she says.

“Yeah.” There’s a not-so-secret reason that I work there in particular, though not the reason I made partner—that I earned. The firm hired me partially due to legacy, because my father was an original founder. Of course, he’s left the firm now for all intents and purposes, has moved to Switzerland, and is only on as an attorney emeritus; but it’s his name that makes up the firm’s middle name. The other names that flank it, however, is half Carlton Smith—who has increasingly blocked any progressiveness in the firm’s initiative or reputation—and another Smith who's largely retired now. I never met this other Smith, but I think Carlton is pretty happy to have the principal say in the direction and progress of SWS. He was probably glad when the other two became less interested in working and more into retirement.

Until now.
A wave of nausea hits me again as I look down at my steak and eggs. “Why do you even eat at this place,” I start to say, but before I finish the sentence I realize that it’s not just a wave of nausea, it’s more serious. I run to the bathroom and just get into the stall before the coffee splashes into the toilet.

I hurl a few more times, before standing up and wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. Ugh. Washing my mouth out in the sink, I catch a look at my reflection. My hair is stringier and nappier than usual and I look exhausted, but Sandra is right. At least, I do have a glow about my skin. I don't look like something the cat dragged in. I should get myself to the hairdresser before this meeting, and maybe buy a new outfit.

* * *

“
D
ue for what
?” I ask. “Color? Oh, I don't know, I think I'll hold off a little. I kind of like how my roots are growing in. I just need a little shaping.”

She gives me a little side-eye. “Ok, Odell,” she says in a voice that sounds like it's meant for someone a little slow. “Can I get you a coffee—or maybe an herbal tea might be better?”

“I'd love something to settle my stomach,” I say eagerly. “I've got a lot of stress going on and I'm really taking it hard.”

“Sure, yeah,” she says. “Coming right up. Jenna, can you get Miss Williams a cup of ginger tea?”

I hear an indistinct shout back but it sounds positive.

“Well let's get that cut started anyway,” Mara says, leading me to the sinks. “You're going to be a new woman in no time. You've got a lot of life in you,” she grins.

“I wish I felt it,” I say.

“You seeing anyone, Odell?” she asks, as she leans me back in the chair.

“I was, first guy in a long while, but it's not working out. You know, we both have careers—we're career people, and sometimes things don't mix all that well with working all the time.”

“I get that.” She looks at me. “But do you want to have babies, uh… eventually?”

“Sure, maybe eventually,” I concede. “But I just made partner, and I’m not really thinking about boyfriends and husbands and weddings and babies. But sure, one day!”

“Well you don't want to wait too long,” she grins widely. “I'm sure it'll happen when the time is right.”

“I'm sure it will!” I lean back into the stream of hot water, and she massages my scalp. I'm in a reverie now, as the tingling sensations swirl away all my worries and concerns. And any lingering thoughts of Griffon, Carlton, or anyone else.