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

by Imani King

  “That man there,” sobs Sabrina, her blonde hair falling like a curtain in front of her eyes, “is a monster.” She grabs a napkin from the plateful of cranberry muffins to carefully wipe mascara from her lashes, but I don't see any actual black tears coming off on the paper. “A monster!” She blubbers the last word out, and Sam, her lawyer, pats her arm.

  The nerve. “The only place my client is a monster—” I want to say is ‘in bed,’ but thankfully I control myself—“is on the field.”

  “That's not true,” she cries some more. Her lawyer hands her another napkin, even though the first is completely dry. I decide to wait and let her “cry it out,” and Carlton comes to the same decision. I'm the first responder on this case, and he seems to be deferring to that, despite his complete lack of respect toward me otherwise. I'm hoping that she'll see how ridiculous she sounds if it appears that we are all just waiting for her to finish, rather than paying attention to her.

  “Do you have any proof, Sabrina?” I ask when she finally finishes her display of crocodile tears. “We understand your position, but currently, it's your word against Mr. James’s. And that won't hold up in court, I’m afraid. Which could waste the time of everyone involved should it reach that level. ”

  “Proof?” she sniffles dramatically. This woman should get an Academy Award for this. “Proof? How dare you even ask!” She boohoos a little, and I wait.

  “I'm sorry if my question disturbs you, Miss Forbes,” I say, tapping my pencil on the table, “but I’m sure you understand. People are innocent until proven guilty in the American court system.”

  “Damn right! This is America!” Gryphon seethes. I put my hand on his arm, trying to ignore the feelings that rush through me as I touch his beautiful muscled forearm.

  “Please Mr. James,” I say, my voice low. “I’ll handle this. No need to interject.”

  “See, this man can't control his temper,” huffs Sabrina's lawyer, Raymond Chu. “And we're merely talking. We can’t just ignore this apparent lack of maturity! An immaturity that led to documented injuries for my client.”

  I tighten my hold on Gryphon's forearm, which feels like a tabletop, it's so thick and strong.

  “I don't imagine a verbal outburst would hold up as proof of anything in a court of law,” I continue mildly. “I'm still waiting for something iron-clad from your side that you believe would hold up, because so far, you have nothing.”

  “Fine, fine,” says Mr. Chu. He opens a folder of papers. “Let’s get down to the nitty-gritty. Here are some photographs of my client's injuries the night of the attack.” He plops down some photos and shuffles through his papers. “Here is an affidavit from the neighbors that they heard yelling in the apartment before Miss Forbes went to the hospital. And lastly, here is the doctor's report on her injuries.”

  He slides them across the table, and I take my hand off of Gryphon’s arm to look through their so-called evidence. My heart beats double-time.

  There are some grim photographs in the pile, certainly, but none can be identified as Sabrina. They are either too blurred, or are close-ups of injuries sustained. Some even seem photoshopped, with lights and angles not exactly adding up to a cohesive picture.

  “Look Mr. Chu,” I say. “Please, don't make me do your job. These can't be proven to be your client, and I don't want to have link items on the doctor's report to individual photos.”

  “Cut the crap, Ms. Williams,” spits Chu. “You know that it's obvious that your monster of a client is the one who did this. All the pieces of the puzzle fit, and we also know how important it is for your client to keep this out of the news. It's not we who should be worried; it's you. Gryphon James is an paid intimidator on the field and a damaged abuser in a relationship, and to pretend that he isn’t, is a betrayal to your—your gender!”

  Now I'm getting mad. A betrayal to my gender? I have fought long and hard to become someone and I’ve made great personal sacrifices in order to succeed. Before Gryphon, I hadn’t had sex in years, but besides that—to get to practice law in the first place, and then to rise up to partner? I hardly betray my gender by demanding the kind of proof that any good lawyer would.

  “All this evidence is circumstantial,” I say. “And hardly damning to Mr. James. Where’s the smoking gun?”

  “Miss Williams, I am surprised. Aren't you a feminist?” sniffles Sabrina, “like me?”

  “With all due respect, Miss Forbes,” I practically hiss, “you are nothing of a feminist. And without any substance to your allegations, it’s time for me to present our evidence.” I snap my briefcase open. “I can prove that you have a pattern of seducing, and then framing individuals of means in order to sink your hooks into them and milk them dry of their finances. You're no feminist. You’re a black widow!”

  Sabrina's mouth falls open, and with one small sound, her sniffling stops cold. Her eyes narrow.

  “How dare you! You're talking about proof, and what proof could you possibly have?” She stands up. “How dare you even say such a thing!”

  Gryphon stands up and stares at her. “Keep your hands off Odell,” he growls.

  “I can protect myself,” I say, turning to him.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Raymond Chu yells.

  “Yes, Odell, what are you talking about?” Carlton says in a low, desperate voice.

  Here is my moment. I take out my files from Kent’s investigation. “Is it not true, Miss Forbes, that you have been pulling this trifling scam for the last six years?” I seethe, pulling out a piece of paper. “First incident: high school in Tacoma. An attempted rape charge settled out of court. You made a cool two-hundred grand out of that.” I throw another paper down on the table. “Second incident: attempted sexual assault, college, Seattle, against another rich boy.” I hold the next paper up. “You netted about a hundred grand that time! I guess that wasn't enough because the next time, you moved across the US to Florida, where you finished college, funding that with the proceeds of a situation settled out of court again, to the tune of 300 grand. The details of that particular incident are still frozen, but it fits the profile.” I turn to her, putting one hand down on the table and wave a sheaf of papers in my other hand. “Is that enough or should I go on? There are three more incidents I can detail. Lightning might strike once, twice, even three times. But six times in as many years? Hardly. You found your way to make an easy living, and you’ve maximized your profits.” Raymond Chu is shocked. He stares at me with his mouth open before he realizes himself and closes it.

  She stares dumbly. “But, but I ...”

  Chu turns to her. “You didn't disclose any of this to me, Sabrina,” he says. His face is impassive, but you can tell he’s furious. She looks from one face to another, in shock. She'd been expecting sympathy and has gotten only contempt.

  “You didn't ask,” she says in a baby voice.

  “Of course, I did,” he mutters. “Never mind, we'll discuss this after the meeting. But I warn you: non-disclosure changes everything.” He’s incensed, and should be. I’ve just won this case.

  “There are another two assault cases before this trumped-up charge against my client, Gryphon James,” I continue, warming to my topic, “but clearly he is the big Kahuna. The white whale of Sabrina Forbes' collection of trophy men to suck dry. And now you want a cool two million?” I throw the sheaf of papers down. “Perhaps you might have been successful if you hadn’t gotten so greedy. Maybe just asked for a few hundred grand each time. But a rich client will always hire the best law firm.” I steal a look at Carlton, whose face is filled with awe, or shock, I can’t tell which.

  “You threaten my client with bringing this trumped up story to the news,” I finish. “But can you handle having your money-grubbing exploits spread all over the country?” I sit down, head held high, and Gryphon takes his place beside me, his eyes wide. “All the major papers showing your picture? Your name on the nightly news? Getting slammed on the internet? Unless you want all of this to be pub
lic knowledge, and the name ‘black widow’ to be your moniker from now on to everyone you meet, Miss Forbes, you can forget the money you're trying to extort from my client.”

  “Are you threatening me?” Sabrina asks, her voice shaking, not with crocodile tears anymore but with the rage of a trapped animal.

  “Not at all,” I say coolly. “Just stating facts. It’s your choice, Miss Forbes. Either you drop the case, or your record of systematic fraud will be spread all over the news. Would you like another napkin to wipe your ‘tears?’” I push the stack toward her. “Because that's all your getting from this meeting. Except perhaps ...” I turn to Gryphon. “A counter suit? Mr. James, is that something you'd like to pursue?” I can't help but touch his forearm again, an the sparks of electricity almost make me jump. “Because that can very easily be arranged.” I pat his forearm. “Don’t answer now, Mr. James. Think about it.”

  I sit back in my chair, knowing that I must for all the world look like the cat that ate the canary.

  “Just because some of these charges might be uhhh… somewhat less credible doesn't mean that this particular one wouldn't stick,” Raymond Chu manages to spit out.

  “While unlikely, that might be true,” I concede, “so I also had Mr. James investigated, and there is no record of him behaving in an abusive way in any of his former relationships. Mr. James’ success story where he’s emerged from a difficult past will play well to a jury, while your client's behavior represents a clear and repeated pattern of reprehensible behavior: extorting ever-larger sums of money.” I pause. “Your argument is weak, councilor. And you know that better than anyone. You’re grasping at straws here.”

  “This meeting is over,” Carlton butts in finally. “Thank you all for coming in today. Should my client decide to go ahead with the counter suit, I'm sure you'll be hearing from us in due time.” He does up the buttons of his expensive suit jacket, very coolly, and motions toward the door.

  Sabrina stands up, suspiciously dry-eyed still. “I've had just about enough of your shit,” she tells me.

  “What a coincidence,” I answer. “Because everyone else has had just about enough of yours.”

  “That's enough, Odell,” Carlton says sharply. I try not to react, but…shouldn’t he be patting me on the back? “Thanks for coming in today, everyone,” he continues. “It's been a pleasure doing business with you all.” He pushes a button to fetch the receptionist and she arrives, cool as a cucumber, face and makeup perfect as usual. She motions them out.

  Raymond and Sabrina leave, his hand reaching to her shoulder as she storms out. My face breaks into a smile despite Carlton’s characteristic coldness. Gryphon turns to me, a big grin on his face as well. “How did you do that, girl?” he asks, hugging me tightly. He kisses my cheek. “I don't even know what to say. That was masterful!”

  “I have my ways,” I answer coyly. I pull away and take a quick glance at Carlton, whose face has the usual scowl when I was hoping for vindication. He has to rain on my parade. “Look I'll have to meet up with you later, Gryphon.” I pat him on the shoulder and turn away to gather my papers.

  “Don't you want to go out and celebrate?” Griff asks. He’s grinning now from ear to ear. “Get a nice drink, anything you want, anywhere you want! My treat, of course!”

  “I'd love to, but I still have some things to finish up here.” Carlton's eyes are burning holes into the back of my head. “I'll call you,” I mouth at Griff. He looks stunned, and then quickly acquiesces. “Congratulations, Mr. James.” I finish.

  “Thanks for coming today, Mr. James,” says Carlton. “And my congratulations on your recent game. Odell, may I please speak with you for a moment?” His voice is colder than ice.

  “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.

  “Oh 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!”