Quarterback's Surprise Baby (Bad Boy Ballers Book 2) (17 page)

“That’s right, I am,” I say, looking between him and Sandra. “I see you’ve met my friend Sandra already.”

“Yes,” Sandra says, a little too quickly. “Brando’s here for the party. Uh, we’re going to stay for it, aren’t we, Odell?” She turns to me and mouths the word ‘please.’

“Yeah, we might,” I answer, looking at her funny. That wasn’t our plan at all. “Are you the player who might move up here?” I ask Brando, his impressive shoulders, square jaw, and sandy blonde hair not going unnoticed.

“Yes ma’am,” he smiles. “They’re considering trading me up here. It would be nice to be closer to one of the old gang from Brooks U.”

“It certainly would,” Sandra says, and then shuts her mouth with an embarrassed look on her face.
“Looks like Sandra agrees,” I laugh. “Can I get you a beer? Griff should be out pretty soon.”

“I would love one,” he drawls.

“Coming right up,” I say. “Sandra, would you come down to the cold room and help me bring up some beers for Brando, and the rest when they arrive?”

“Sure,” she says, smiling awkwardly.

“Can I help?” Brando offers, smiling broadly.

“No!” she says quickly. “We’ve got this!”

“Super, thanks,” he replies, sitting down at the wide harvest table. “Hey, Sandra,” he asks. “Are you going to be at the party tonight?”

“Sure,” she says, looking at him then at me with a frantic expression. “Definitely!” I’ve never seen her act this way before. She’s completely lost her cool.

When we get to the stairs, Sandra grabs my arm and spills.

“Who
is
that gorgeous man?” She asks, eyes wide.

“I guess another football player?”

“I think it’s my future husband,” she stammers.

“Future husband?” My eyebrows knit together. “I thought you were holding out for a lawyer!”

“Yeah, yeah,” she dismisses me. “I thought so too. But this guy is different. There’s just something about him. Odell, please tell me we can hang out with him at the party tonight.” Her eyes are pleading. “Please say yes!”

“Sure, I guess, for a bit,” I say. “As long as I get little Ryan down to bed, we can hang out.”

“Oh thank you, thank you Odell,” she whispers, throwing her arms around me. She gives me a big squeeze.

“He’s really gotten to you, hasn’t he?” I ask, rather shocked. “That’s very sudden. And completely unlike you,” I add.

“I don’t know what it is, but when he shook my hand and said nice to meet me,” she says, shaking her head in disbelief, “I felt this intense bolt of electricity go through me and I just knew.”

“Is that so?” I say, wonderingly. “That’s kind of how it was between Griff and I. When we touched, it was electric.”

“Really?”

“Well yeah.” We grab the frosty bottles and start back up the stairs. “We just kind of felt it, right away.” I wonder if she really is going through the same thing? “The power of these football players!”

“Right. I don’t know why I was so convinced lawyers were the best option!” She skips up the stairs behind me. “So Odell, when are you gonna get married? You’re going to invite Brando, right? And maybe he can be the best man to my maid of honor?”

“So many questions, Sandra!” I giggle as I shuffle the bottles in my hand to open the door to the main floor. “We’re looking at venues now. Let’s just take it a day at a time, shall we?”

“Sure,” she says, but by the look in her eyes I can tell that she’s not going to forget this man too easily. These bad boy football players sure know how to get under your skin.

R
ain looks
at me across the desk, eyebrows knitting together and lips pursed in an exaggerated romantic face. "I've been really tryin', baby... Tryin' to hold back these feeling for so long... And if you feel, like I feel baby, then come on, oh come on," she sings to me, and then cracks up. She practically brings that ‘ROFL’ thing to life.
I smack her arm lightly, playfully. "Oh hush now Rain!" I feel my cheeks flame anyway. It's embarrassing but true: I am having dreams now. Dreams of my employer, Nicholas, with his dark hair, those eyes with their hint of soft sweetness, the perfect amount of stubble on his cheeks, framing a soft, kissable mouth. "It's business, nothing more."

I'm telling myself that as much as I'm telling her. Besides, he’s married. And to a gorgeous woman. The one time I was in his office, there was a picture of a beautiful and thin blonde woman with, shall we say, a fantastic figure. Tiny waist, lithe body. I can’t really see the line of her breasts since they’re covered with flowing hair, but from the hint of cleavage, she seems not to be lacking in the boob department.

I've only been working here a few months now - I applied for and took the job as soon as Rain called me and said it was available. It's nothing special or important. Just some basic filing and data entry. Pretty mindless work. Thank heaven that's so, because I don't think I could handle much more pressure along with my waitressing job at the Rustik, and what’s been going on at home. But when this came up, I snagged it right quick. It won't last long, just until Chikae and Darius’ birthday week,  but it'll get me up to and over that.
My little sister Chikae and my brother Darius deserve a celebration to remember. They've been dealing with a lot since our mom passed this year, very suddenly, of cancer. It was end-stage when we all found out, and we only had what seemed like a few days to say goodbye, before the morphine kicked in and her face became unlined and peaceful and she was gone.

But what I hadn’t been expecting was that ever since, Dad seems to have pretty much checked out. From everything. Sure, I know Mom was his world - she was all of our worlds. The glue that bound us together as a family. The one to do all the little things to make things special for all of us, who would think of exactly who needed to be called about this or that event and what someone’s best-loved type of cookie is. She’d have filed away in her mind everyone in the family’s favorite dinner, from great-grandmother to newest niece, and be able to whip it up with a smile, happy to share.

I remember when I was a kid at Christmastime, she'd stay up late wrapping presents and decorating. Otis Redding would be on the old stereo, singing "Merry Christmas, Baby..." and she’d croon along in her high, fluty voice. It was her mission to make everything perfect for us - it was just what she did. But now she’s not here anymore, and since dad is still heartbroken, it falls on me to try to make up the difference for the kids... and I have to admit it to myself - everything takes time, but more than that - it costs money.

And besides, I’m grieving too. And one thing I grieve is that I never told her exactly how much all that thoughtfulness and effort meant to me when she was alive. I vow that I will never let good people go unappreciated again.

Rain snaps her finger in my face. "Hello, Planet Earth to Adisa!" she says, grinning. "Where were you, girl, I've been talking to you for the last five minutes! Damn near talking to myself, I guess!“
Thank god she's here. Otherwise it would be pretty lonely. And not just that, but clearly I would get tangled in my thoughts way too often. "Sorry!" I smile back. "Just thinking about Darius and Chikae." Rain’s mom-like in her own way, about fifteen years older than me, but just as lovely as ever. Black don’t crack, after all, so she looks good. But her manner is sweet, motherly, with just the right amount of mischief. I love her. I don’t want to bring her down with the thought of my mom and her untimely passing.

"Are you sure? You've been going off into La La Land pretty frequently lately - and I think it has to do with Mr. Hot-Stuff Boss man!" She nods knowingly at the office door, where Nicholas has been holed up the last few hours.

"No, for real," I say. "I’m thinking about the kids’ birthdays. I just want to make this year's birthday celebration awesome for my bro and sis, and you remember they’re the same week - Darius’ day is coming up first, and then Chikae. You know, I want things to be special for them.”

“It will," she says, face softening. "You're a very good big sister. But it wouldn't it all be a lot easier if we had the kind of screw-it money that Nick does?" Her face scrunches into a sympathetic smile.

"I wonder," I reply thoughtfully. “It's strange, but he doesn't seem all that happy, does he? Always looks stressed out whenever he's in the office." I thought of him rushing in today, past our desks, phone glued to his ear, shutting the door quickly behind him. Sure, money’s great and important, but it can’t buy happiness. I guess it can buy some pretty nice things though. Hence my working here.

“Yeah, but how often is he here, really?" Her fingers clack as she keys in a line of data. "I bet he doesn't look stressed out when he's at his country ranch or on his yacht!"

"He has a yacht?" I gape. "Are you serious?"
“Well I can’t say I’ve been on the thing, but that's what I heard!" She says as she leans forward and grins, brushing imaginary long locks away from her face. “Can you imagine? I’ll have another G and T, please,” she leans back and comically looks over her glasses. “On the double.”
I giggle, about to play along, but just then the office door opens and all six-foot two of him steps out, a business suit clinging to his musculature. Damn, he looks fine. But still, that scowl on his face. I quickly go back to typing up a storm, hoping it doesn’t seem too obvious that we were goofing off.

He nods at us as he walks by.
Is that a glint in his eye? Don't be silly
,
Addy, you're imagining things
, I tell myself.
What would a gorgeous billionaire want with you?
He’s been in the Manhattan society pages for crying out loud. He and all those gorgeous brothers. Or most of them anyway. I heard there’s one in Texas as well, on some ranch, running a non-profit or something. Name begins with R, I can’t remember. Another one, Dylan, I just saw on the cover of some magazine.

When the day is finally done, I jump in my car and go to pick up the kids at school, which is yet
another
one of my jobs since mom passed. But, believe me, I am not complaining about this one since it's a job I do enjoy most of the time. Seeing their anxious faces, as they scan the line of cars looking for me, transform into happy smiles and sweet childhood abandon is always the absolute high point of my day. I want to be there for them and they know it.

One day I do dream of having my own kids, but for now, little bro and sis are everything to me.
“Addy!” yells Chikae, jumping in the car. Her eyes are bright. "I wanna show you what I made today at school!" She rummages through her pink backpack. “Wait! It’s here somewhere!” Her hands get more frantic.

“I’m waiting, no rush!” I reassure her, patting her shoulder as I look at the traffic to assess my chance to pull out. No such luck yet.
Darius pushes his hand in between the front seats, waving a paper. I grab it and hold it up. "Look, I got a B on the math test!" He cries.
"Wow. Good job, Darius.” I am so proud of them. I’m not sure they’ve fully grasped the fact that mom isn’t coming back, but they do seem to be still doing well in school, which is so important. “You guys are fantastic," I say, brushing one of my unruly curls out of my face and smiling at them. I’m really wiping a tear but they don’t need to know that.  

"I wish mom could see," Darius says, suddenly looking out the window. My heart spasms.

"She can," I reply quickly, wanting to believe it myself, but sometimes you need to act as if that that kind of thing is real whether you’re sure about it or not. Especially when the person you're talking to is eight years old. "I bet she's looking down from heaven right now with a big smile on her face, just so proud of you guys."

Darius sits back, and I see a small grin appear on his face. "You think so, Adisa? For real?"

"For real!" I put the old car into gear, and the engine coughs a bit before lurching forward.
"What's wrong with the car, Addy?” Chikae’s eyebrows are knitted together. Her hands grasp each other, wringing. I’m silly to think that the stress isn’t getting to her. Wishful thinking on my part, is all it is.

"I’m sure it’s nothing too serious, Chikae. But you know these old cars, they're like old people. They break down every now and then."
"Do cars get sick?" Chikae wonders. She's six, so all this must be confusing.

"Not really, but occasionally they do need a tune up." Chucking her under the chin, I say, “Nothing a good mechanic and a few dollars can’t fix, I’m sure.” Like we have that many extra few dollars. I flick the dial on the old radio, and she stops me when she hears Taylor Swift.

"I love that song! Shake it off!" she sings, bouncing up and down in her seat. Darius joins in and soon the whole old car is creakily bouncing down the street.

"Can we stop at McDonalds?" Darius asked. "I'm
hungry.
"

Arg. That's not in the budget, and besides I'm going to be making dinner later. "Nah sweetie, you'll spoil your appetite."
"Awww," he moans, and turns to look out the window. I'm momentarily happy that his current troubles have more to do with not getting a Big Mac than anything else. Sometimes you gotta grab on to those small victories, right?

"That stuff ain't good for you anyway," Chikae admonishes him, spinning around in her seat.

"Isn't," I correct her. "But otherwise , Darius, Chicky Boom Boom is right!" I say, carefully stepping on the gas. We're almost home and soon it'll be time to start cooking, then off to the restaurant for the late shift. I yawn just thinking about it.

"Hey, don't call me that!" Chikae pouts, but I know that on some level she loves it. She may to be grown up already, but she’s still a little girl. Her hand reaches out to squeeze my arm, and then she just holds on to it, while her other hand plays with her bottom lip. She's lost in thought. "Mommy?" she says absentmindedly. "I mean, Addy, where does the snow come from? Does it come from heaven?"

My mind is immediately transported back to mom’s funeral, and then the sadness in  Nicholas' eyes, and I clear my throat. "It does come from the sky, from the clouds, like the rain. It's been pretty cold lately so I wouldn't be too surprised if we got more..." I trail off, as now I am the one lost in thought. Nicholas.

“Snow comes from the clouds in the sky,” Darius yells from the back seat. “Stupid head! Everyone knows that!”

“Hey, be nice to your sister,” I admonish. “I remember when you didn’t know things like that, and it wasn’t that long ago.”

“Sorry,” he says, half-heartedly, and looks back out the window.

“That’s ok,” Chikae replies in a rather airy magnanimous tone. Then she adds, “Poop brain.”

“Chikae-”  I start, but then a horn blares in the street, making me jump. "Sorry!" I yell to the other driver, but he gives me the finger anyway. Sometimes you can’t win. I turn up the music again to distract the kids, but soon we are pulling up outside our house.

They tumble out of the car and run to the door, their backpacks trailing.