The Bad Baller Collection

by Kiss, Tabatha

We walk the rest of the way in silence and I keep a constant watch around us, darting around from face-to-face for anyone that might know my father.

  Junior’s car sits in the corner of G lot and I start to relax more and more with each step we take from the high-populated campus hangouts.

  I pause as we approach the vehicle, genuinely wondering whether or not he’s messing with me. It’s an old, white mini-van.

  “This is your car?”

  Junior grins. “You’re definitely new around here if you’ve never heard of the Junior-mobile.”

  I blink. “The Junior-mobile?”

  “I didn’t name it,” he claims. “The team did.”

  “And what’s so special about the Junior-mobile?”

  He grabs the side door and slides it open. “Take a look.”

  I step closer, instantly noticing the lack of seats inside. It’s been completely modified, leaving the front seats intact but everything else has been stripped out and replaced with an air mattress on the floor — along with a few thick pillows and a wrinkled comforter. The windows are tinted, and I notice a string of soft, blue lights pinned to the ceiling to set the mood.

  I roll my eyes. “I’m not getting in this thing!”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m clean and I want to keep it that way. God knows what diseases are lingering all over the walls…”

  “It’s perfectly safe and clean… just like me, by the way.”

  “Doubtful.”

  “Play your cards right and you’ll be the first classy lady to grace the backseat this semester.”

  I feign a gasp. “The great Junior Morgan hasn’t gotten laid yet this semester?”

  “I didn’t say that. I said you’d be the first one in the backseat.”

  I cross my arms and lean against the open door. “So, how does this whole player persona work for you?”

  “Player persona?”

  “Yeah,” I continue. “You pick out a girl, drag her to the old Junior-mobile, score a touchdown or two, and then what? Sayonara, lady? Hope we don’t randomly bump into each other again?”

  “You sound surprised, Ellie,” he notes. “I thought all of us were dirty, cheating, lying scoundrels.”

  “Don’t you ever feel bad about it?”

  “I’ve never been dishonest to a girl to get her in here,” he says. “I’ve never led anyone on, made a promise I didn’t keep, or done anything particularly shady to get laid. I make it clear from the beginning what I want, and I’ve done the same with you.”

  “Is that all this is?” I ask. “After tonight, you’re just hoping to scratch another notch into your floorboards?”

  Junior chews on his bottom lip. “Honestly, yes.”

  I scoff and push off the door, unable to hide my disgust. “Wow…”

  “Ellie…” He takes a step forward. “Don’t even pretend like you’re not interested.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me.”

  He drifts in so close, I start to smell his cologne again. I ease back but quickly find myself leaning against the van, struggling inside between smacking him or accidentally stumbling inside.

  “I’ll tell you what…” he says, “I’ll give you another shot to tell me to fuck off. Then, you can leave, and I’ll never bother you again. Cross my heart. But…” He places his hands on the van door, pinning me to it just like he pinned me to the lockers and a rush of heat strikes my core. “If there is any chance at all that you want me as much as I want you, then you’ll get in the van and we’ll continue our little date like normal. Don’t lie. I can tell.”

  My eyes fall down his body, drawn to his groin as if I’ll see his cock again; hard and throbbing for me. I close them, embracing the darkness as I feel him drift closer.

  “Ellie…”

  Holy shit. I love the way he says that.

  “… say you’ll stay. With me.”

  His lips graze my cheek, angling close to my mouth but they never quite connect, leaving a hair’s distance between us.

  This fucking guy. He’s baiting me and it’s working, but I don’t want to be just another notch in Junior Morgan’s dirty van floorboards.

  The bitch of it is that I don’t want to leave either. I want that cock from earlier; the one I touched and fantasized about. I want to watch his tattooed body towering over me, thrusting me into oblivion while I cry out in blissful agony and a man like him knows exactly how to make that happen.

  But I’ve spent my whole life as the daughter of a narcissistic womanizer. I won’t be taken advantage of one now.

  I open my eyes and look into his, watching as his pupils twitch in anticipation of my response.

  “Let’s go,” I say, shifting away from his touch and walking around the van to get into the passenger’s seat.

  You want to fuck me, Junior Morgan?

  You’re going to have to earn it first.

  * * *

  “Why are you here?” Junior asks me.

  I glance over at him, wrinkling my brow. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re a transfer student, right?” He takes his eyes off the road for a split second to look at me. “You’re new and you’re taking three-hundred level courses.”

  “Ahh.” I nod. “Welcome to the glorious world of P.R. representatives.”

  He pauses in confusion. “What?”

  “When my dad decided he wanted to become a coach, his public relations guy told him he should revamp his entire image,” I explain. “That meant shifting away from his old, immature, manwhoring ways and embracing a more family-friendly lifestyle to gain good press when his new job went public.”

  “What does that have to do with you?”

  “Well, you can’t be family-friendly without a family,” I say. “He contacted me — or more accurately, his P.R. rep contacted me — and offered me a deal. If I came to live with him, pose nice for photos, and act the doting daughter, then Dad would continue paying for my education.”

  Junior pauses, shifting his attention back to the road ahead. “I guess that’s why he doesn’t want you involved with the team…”

  “It could cause unnecessary drama, as he claims,” I confirm. Junior chuckles and I turn toward him. “What’s so funny?”

  “Nothing,” he says. “It’s just so strange that we’re talking about Cary Pierce right now. I have Cary Pierce’s daughter in my van.”

  “Why is that strange?”

  “I mean… he’s your dad, you’re used to knowing him. But me? I had a damn poster of the guy on my bedroom wall as a kid and now he’s my coach. It’s a bit… strange.”

  I laugh. “I guess I get that.” I shift in my seat, leaning around to face him. “Why did you want to go out with me?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, most guys who ask me out just want to meet my dad,” I explain. “You’ve already met him.”

  “I wanted to get to know you.”

  “Pfft! Bullshit.”

  “I’m serious!”

  “Do not think that I won’t tuck and roll out of this car while it’s moving,” I warn.

  “Are you always this suspicious of men that show interest in you?”

  His question brings me pause. “Yes,” I answer, unable to hold it back.

  “Honestly…” His chuckle falls. “It kinda… pissed me off when he told me to stay away from you.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. He told you to stay away from us, right?” he asks. “I dare you to say that your first instinct wasn’t to go jump the bones of the first one of us you could find.”

  I smile. “Maybe a little.”

  He looks straight ahead, the edge of his lips twitching slightly in satisfaction while I glance out the window beside me.

  “Junior, where exactly are you taking me? We just passed a damn farm.”

  “Patience, woman.”

  “If you’re planning on murdering me, I’m gonna go ahead and warn you that I am highly trained
in many forms of stage combat.”

  “Stage combat?” He laughs. “Uh-oh. Better gird my loins.”

  “Damn right.”

  We enter a small town off the highway and by small, I mean small.

  “Oh, I get it,” I joke. “You’re not going to kill me, but the children of the corn will. Okay.”

  He says nothing but he fires a sly glance at me from the corner of his eyes before turning off the road into a parking lot. It’s more populated than any other area of the town and my shoulders grow a little tense.

  Junior turns the car off. “Also, I forgot to ask… Do you like pizza?”

  “Yes,” I answer. “I like pizza.”

  “How about skee-ball?”

  “Skee-ball?”

  He nods. “Yeah, skee-ball.”

  “I hold no strong feelings about it in either direction.”

  “Good.” He unbuckles his seatbelt. “Let’s go have some fun.”

  While the outside looks old and worn, the inside is full of color and life. Arcade games line three whole walls, leaving a counter on the fourth wall for people to order food and drinks or exchange tickets for prizes. I glance around, spotting multiple families sitting around with children racing back and forth between parents and machines to gather quarters to play.

  “Hey, Junior!”

  The old man behind the counter shouts his name and Junior beams. “Hey, Frank!”

  “Where’s Maggie tonight?”

  Junior shrugs. “No idea.”

  Frank passes a kind glance back at me and smiles. “What can I get you and the lady?”

  “Two big slices, two colas, and enough tokens to choke the machine.”

  “Coming right up, Junior.”

  Frank turns and passes through a curtain into the kitchen.

  I stare at Junior, pausing until the old man is out of earshot. “Who’s Maggie?”

  He searches my eyes for envy that isn’t there. “Maggie is my sister.”

  “Ahh…”

  Frank sidles back through the curtain with two huge paper plates, each with a giant slice of pepperoni pizza laying on top. “Here you go, you two,” he says, slapping them down on the counter between us. He reaches below into a small fridge and pulls out the sodas as well.

  “Thanks, Frank,” Junior says, passing a crisp twenty over to him.

  Frank snatches it up, opens his cash register, and counts back the change in nothing but quarters. “Let me know if you need anything,” he says, his wrinkled eyes shifting between us. “Refills, more tokens…” he leans closer to Junior, “mood music.”

  “I’ll let you know.” Junior juts his head back, signaling for me to follow him.

  I grab my plate and drink and we navigate through the sporadic minefield of tables and running children, all the way into the back where a lonely table for two sits off to the side in the quiet corner.

  “I guess you and your sister come here a lot?” I ask, taking the seat across from Junior as he sits down.

  “Sometimes,” he answers. “Not as often as we did growing up, but sometimes.”

  I pause. “You grew up here?”

  Junior picks up his pizza, easily balancing it in one hand. “No, about twenty minutes more down the highway. Frank’s an old friend of my dad’s, so we came here… almost every weekend when we were kids.”

  I glance around, trying to imagine what Junior was like as a child. I can barely even remember what I was like as a little kid. I certainly didn’t get to go to places like this very often… if at all. “It’s nice. I like it.”

  “Wait until you try the pizza,” he says, chewing softly. “I’ve never had better — but you might have, I guess. You’re from New York, right?”

  “I am.” I slide my plate a little closer. “Let’s give this a try…”

  I pick up the huge slice with both hands and fold the crust to make it easier to hold on to before taking a big bite of it. The cheese melts the instant it hits my tongue, mixing with a thick sauce and an even thicker pepperoni. My taste buds dance.

  “Oh, wow,” I say, setting it down and covering my mouth. “That’s good.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “It…” I swallow it down. “It kind of reminds me of this street vendor near the boarding school I used to go to...”

  Junior takes a swig of his soda. “Boarding school?”

  “The drop-off zone for absentee parents everywhere,” I say. “Cary Pierce wasn’t exactly around and my mom… well… she liked to enjoy herself.”

  “Ahh…”

  “Could have been worse, I guess.”

  “Where is your mom now?”

  Her face flashes in my memory but only for a brief second. “She died a few years ago.”

  Junior’s face falls. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

  “No, it’s okay,” I say. “Strange enough, I didn’t really know her that well. I’ve kind of looked after myself my whole life, for the most part.”

  He stares at me for a moment, no doubt dying to ask more questions, but he keeps it simple. “Do you miss it? New York, I mean?”

  “Yeah.” I nod. “But it was either stay there without the ability to pay for it or come here to live with dad…”

  “Tough choice.”

  “He promised me it’d be worth it. Not sure why that promise felt more legit than every other one but here I am.” I take another bite to avoid Junior’s inquisitive eyes, licking my lips to get as much of that delicious cheese flavor I can. “But… I kind of like it around here, too.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah, everyone’s so nice and welcoming in the Midwest.”

  He shakes his head. “They just want in your pants.”

  I laugh, nearly choking on my soda. “Well, I guess that explains it.”

  “I mean… I don’t want to speak for everyone, but…” He scratches his cheek, smiling wide. “Once word gets out that all it takes to get you to go out on a date is flashing you, they probably won’t be so nice anymore.”

  My jaw drops. “Yeah, that and straight-up blackmail.”

  “I did not blackmail you…” he defends. I sit back, staring hard. “Okay, there might have been a little blackmail.”

  “Uh-huh.” I cross my arms, holding back a laugh at the back of my throat.

  “Hey, the age-old trick and coffee, compliments, and condoms didn’t work. I had to improvise.” He fires another grin, this one sparking a wave of warmth from my head to my toes.

  I wipe my lips with a napkin, strategically getting my damn smile out of my system before pulling it away.

  “Come on.” Junior stands up from the table and grabs my hand, pulling me along with him toward the arcade games.

  He takes me across the room into the skee-ball corner and reaches into his pocket for some quarters. “You can go first.”

  The change clinks loudly in the machine and it comes to life, rolling nearly a dozen balls down toward the front all in a line.

  I grab the first one and pause, feeling a sting of self-consciousness as Junior’s eyes stay locked on me. My palms heat up and I feel the sweat gathering on the heavy ball before I roll it hard down the aisle. It veers to the left and nets me a mere ten points.

  After a few rolls, I get the hang of it and the feeling of Junior’s eyes on me doesn’t bother me as much. Goosebumps prickle on my neck, lulling me into an even warmer security blanket but I can’t lose focus now. I have to remember who he is and the driving motivation for why he even brought me out here.

  He wants to fuck me.

  After a few rounds, we have a line of tickets more than four times his height.

  “And what exactly does this win me?” I ask him.

  Junior gathers them up. “Let’s go see.”

  We walk across the room to the prize counter where Frank stands with his permanent smile.

  “Quite the haul tonight, Junior.”

  He feeds the tickets into a machine and I watch as the numbers tick up at a fast pace. I feel Junior’
s eyes on me, but I try to pretend like I don’t.

  “Looks like…” Frank turns to the prize wall and points toward a line of teddy bears. “One of those.”

  “She’ll take it,” Junior says, looking smug.

  Frank pulls the bear off the wall and hands it to me. “For the lucky girl.”

  I chuckle and squeeze it in my hands. The fur is light brown and incredibly soft, far higher in quality than I would have expected at a place like this. It might just make a decent pillow or cuddle companion. “Thank you,” I tell him.

  Frank nods and excuses himself to go help another customer nearby.

  “Do you like it?” Junior asks me.

  I shrug and hug it against my chest. “It’s not bad… but I bet every girl you bring here leaves with a teddy bear.”

  “Them? Hell no.” He points into the glass counter at the cheap prizes. “They get pencil erasers and friendship bracelets.”

  “Oof!” I chuckle. “Harsh. Something tells me second dates aren’t that common for the great Junior Morgan.”

  “How’d you guess?” he jokes. “Actually, first dates aren’t that common either.”

  “Why not?”

  He shrugs. “Most girls aren’t worth the trouble.”

  I recognize the obvious line, but I play into it anyway. “What makes you think I’m worth it?”

  His eyes go softer as he leans closer, licking his lips and gazing down at me. “I just know.”

  I hold back the scoff.

  Junior squeezes the ear on the teddy bear with playful fingers. “Wanna get out of here?”

  A shiver rolls down my spine and I hesitate as it reaches my core.

  Yes. Emphatically, yes, I do want to get out of here, but I don’t want to tell him that. I don’t want to tell him that rolling a damn ball down a lane toward plastic holes was the most fun I’ve had in forever or that just looking into his eyes makes me want to bend over for him.

  He’s a player and he’s not just playing football. Everything he’s done tonight has been designed for one thing and one thing only.

  I can’t exactly let him get away with it, can I?

  “Sure,” I say, smiling softly.

  Chapter 7

  Junior

  I drive Eliza back to campus and honestly, I have trouble keeping my eyes on the road.