Dirty Saint: A Secret Baby Sports Romance

by Vesper Vaughn

  “I’m Jenny Kelly and I’m here in Chicago, upstairs at the Hallwood Hotel with Saint Williams. He’s had a busy day today and was kind enough to sit down with me and talk about things. Saint, how are you holding up?”

  “Fine,” I reply shortly, no smile on my face.

  Jenny’s fake smile falters for a millisecond but she recovers. “Great, great, glad to hear it. Do you care to talk about recent reports that have been circulating in the news?”

  I nod. “I don’t really care to talk about them, no, but my agent tells me if I don’t he’s firing me as a client.” It’s my turn to flash a showbiz smile.

  Jenny laughs nervously. “I can understand the violation of privacy is jarring. But you are signing up to be in the national spotlight, aren’t you?”

  I nod. “That’s true. So I will be the hundredth person to tell you my intensely personal news: my girlfriend and I are excited to announce that we’re having a baby.”

  “Excited? Well, yes. Congratulations,” Jenny shuffles through her blue note cards, panicking. I’m going off script. I don’t need to look at my mother to know she’s melting down from the other side of the camera. “You’re a highly religious person. An inspiration to millions. You paint a Bible verse on your cheek and it’s the trending topic on social media for a full news cycle. People would kill to have that kind of platform and impact. How does this pregnancy announcement mesh with your public persona?”

  I cross my legs, resting my ankle on my knee. My agent is waving at me to not do that. I ignore him. “It meshes perfectly. God says to go forth and multiply and that’s exactly what I’m doing.”

  Jenny laughs nervously. “Yes, but you’re not married.”

  “That’s correct.” I’m leaving her hanging. My agent is about to have a coronary. “I wasn’t aware that a cock doesn’t work properly if you don’t have a ring on your finger. That’s not been my experience.”

  If it weren’t for the twenty layers of pancake makeup on Jenny’s face, I’m sure I could see her blushing. “So you’re telling me you aren’t remorseful over your actions?” Jenny inquires, her face serious.

  I laugh. “You see Jenny, my agent wanted me to sit down with you and apologize for the fact that I’ve behaved in an ungodly manner. But I’m not going to apologize. To do that would be to admit regret that the love of my life and I have made a baby together. I’m not going to apologize for the existence of my unborn child. I love my girlfriend. And I love our baby.”

  I’ve never told Esther I love her.

  Nothing like a nationally-broadcast interview to get the job done.

  Jenny smiles at me. “Are you going to get married?”

  I chuckle amiably. “That’s for Esther and I to work out,” I reply. “I’m interested in getting into a prestigious team and keep my head down. This weekend is about football, not babies.”

  “I’m guessing you’re going to have a lot of offers for a network-hosted wedding, I’ll tell you. It’s been refreshing to speak with such candor and honesty, Saint. I wish you the best of luck with the rest of the draft.”

  “Thanks, Jenny,” I say, reaching out and shaking her hand. I look into the camera. “Hey, Esther.” I smile and blow her a kiss. “I love you and I miss you.” I know that millions of women will swoon over this moment when a viral clip of it meets social media.

  Jenny takes over and closes out the broadcast.

  I take off my lapel mic and walk over to my parents. “You take this if you think you can do a better job speaking on my behalf than I can.”

  They gape at me, completely silent.

  “This is my life, and I’m living it the exact way that I want to, understood?”

  I walk out of the hotel room, slamming the door shut behind me.

  I feel like a million bucks.

  Now it’s time to go get a million bucks.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  ESTHER

  “I just don’t understand who leaked the story,” Saint says. The sound of boarding calls echoes through the phone. My body is screaming for him to find his way back to me. Back here. So we can be together. “I literally told absolutely no one about the pregnancy.”

  “It wasn’t Romy. Do you think it was Dr. Smith?” I ask him.

  Saint sighs. “Maybe. I don’t know, she seemed trustworthy. Would she really risk her medical license to - oh, God.”

  “What is it?” I ask him.

  “I know who it was,” Saint says. “I’m going to kill him.” The voice of an airline worker chimes through the air.

  “Now boarding for flight 415 for Charlottesville…”

  “Listen, I gotta go. I love you.”

  The words make me feel like someone just dipped me in a pool of pure sunshine. “I love you, too. Safe flight.”

  I hang up, wondering who it was who just tried to ruin both of our lives, and what kind of scumbag would take pleasure in it.

  ***

  “Scott,” Saint says, his arm wrapped around my shoulders as we walk across the sunbathed parking lot.

  I drove his Jeep down to the airport to pick him up. “Scott? But how?”

  Saint shrugs. “My best guess is that he bribed one of the assistants in the clinic to divulge your medical records. He’s such a fucking asshole I wouldn’t have put it past him to be watching both of us the day we went into the clinic. He put two and two together, got the proof he needed, and went straight to the media with it.” I realize Saint is shaking he’s so angry.

  “Saint.” I stop walking. “Please don’t do anything reckless. Please don’t do anything that’s going to get you kicked out of school.”

  Saint takes a deep breath and grins at me. “Something reckless like knocking up the love of my life?”

  It turns out I’m not as jaded as I thought I’d become. I actually blush so furiously I think it’s possible I might set my t-shirt on fire.

  Saint drives us back to school, holding my hand the entire way. “I think we shouldn’t go back,” he says.

  I laugh. “Seriously, don’t tempt me.”

  “I am serious. I just signed a twenty-million-dollar five year contract. We have money. We have a vehicle. Let’s just drive.”

  “And go where, precisely?”

  “Anywhere we want,” Saint says.

  I sigh. “I would love to. But we have to face what we’ve done and get it over with. I can’t just run away from it and hope I’ll get into another university.” I put my hand on my slightly-bulging belly. “It’s weird that there’s a little person inside of me. A whole human being who’s going to grow into a real person with thoughts and interests and feelings.”

  Saint smiles at me and squeezes my hand. “A perfect human being.”

  “I don’t know about that,” I say, chuckling.

  He looks me dead in the eyes. “That baby is half you. Of course they’ll be perfect.”

  Pulling up to the school I feel like the weather is playing a funeral dirge. The clear sunny day has been replaced by ominous grey clouds. A big part of me wishes that the sky would just open up and swallow me whole.

  “I need to change,” Saint says when we’re at the fork in the path to our separate dorms. “I’ll meet you back here in half an hour?”

  I nod. “Sounds good.”

  He reaches down to kiss me and I jump back. He grabs me hard and pulls me closer to him. Students are rushing past us to take shelter before the storm breaks. I can hear them whispering. “I already knocked you up, Delilah. I don’t think a kiss is going to get us into any more trouble than what we’ve already gotten ourselves into.”

  He kisses me passionately, in full view of everyone.

  ***

  I can’t believe I’m back in this position again. Sitting with Saint outside of the Dean’s office, wanting to hold his hand but totally unable to. But this time, instead of our parents behind that door, the honor committee sits inside.

  The ones who will determine my academic future.

  “We didn�
�t get to rehearse this time,” Saint whispers to me. I look at him and realize he’s attempting to be funny.

  It’s not working. “That’s not funny.”

  “Lighten up, Delilah. This will all be over soon enough.”

  The door opens up and Scott steps outside. I almost forgot that he’s the head of the honor committee.

  “The lions await,” he says with an evil grin.

  Saint walks, straight-backed and fuming, right past him.

  I glare at him.

  Inside are the eight members of the committee. The Dean sits at his desk.

  Scott takes the head position at the top of the room. “We are gathered here today to discuss the violation of the honor code by Francis Williams and Esther Avonlea. Specifically, that they broke the chastity clause in the document they signed upon arrival at this university.” Scott can’t even keep the pure mirth off of his face. “First we’ll hear from Brother Williams.”

  Saint stands up and doesn’t even bother smoothing his tie. He looks pissed. “You know what we did. We had sex. The two of us. Now Esther is pregnant. I don’t know what else you want me to say.”

  Scott raises his eyebrows. “You could show remorse.”

  Saint laughs. “No. I’m not going to do that.”

  The Dean is looking at him, pleading with his eyes. I know he doesn’t want his star player to not graduate. Saint having a degree from Fullerton would keep the alumni coffers full for a decade straight.

  Scott looks down at the document in front of him. “Very well,” he says. “So you have nothing to say?”

  “I didn’t say that. I just said I wasn’t going to be remorseful. I have more than enough to say right now, I assure you.”

  The rest of the honor committee looks like they’re viewing the best suspense flick of the entire year. Not a single one of them would look out of place with a bucket of popcorn apiece on their laps.

  “I do have something to say to all of you. I want you to ask yourselves how someone found out about me and Esther and our baby. Because only three people in the world knew. Our doctor, Esther, and me. And I know none of us broke the news.”

  I recognize the librarian’s assistant sitting to Scott’s right. She clears her throat. “You obviously weren’t as careful as you thought you were, then. Or someone you thought you could trust isn’t so trustworthy.”

  Saint presses the tips of his fingers together and starts pacing the room like a prosecutor waiting to present his star witness. “Right. But do you really think a physician would risk her medical license to break doctor-patient confidentiality laws? Because I don’t think so. No, I really, really don’t think so.”

  “Well, then who was it?” asks a pimple-faced sophomore perched on the edge of the sofa.

  Saint laughs. “It was Scott.”

  The room falls apart into whispers and conjecture. The Dean has to call for quiet. “Stop! Silence. Brother Williams, how is it possible that Brother Ardmore knew a secret you yourself said was only between three people?”

  Saint walks over to the door of the Dean’s office and opens it up. A timid-looking blonde shuffles into the room. She looks like she’s a freshman. Then I realize: Saint does have a star witness. He must have made phone calls as he got on his flight.

  “This is Candace Willow.” Saint pushes her to the center of the room. “Can you tell the honor committee where you work as part of your work study job?”

  The girl sounds like a mouse. “I work at the clinic,” she squeaks.

  Scott interrupts. “Dean, this is absurd. We’re supposed to be figuring out what the appropriate punishment is for these two, not grilling-“

  The Dean holds up his hand. “Let Brother Williams finish.” He looks at Saint. “Please continue.”

  “Thank you,” Saint replies. “So you work at the clinic. Can you tell me what happened a few days ago?”

  The girl gulps. “Um, someone came into the clinic and asked me for the records of one of the patients.”

  “And who was the patient?” Saint asks.

  I almost laugh. It seems a certain football player has been watching too many episodes of Law and Order.

  “Esther Avonlea,” she squeaks.

  “I see. And who asked you to retrieve the file?”

  She glances over at Scott. “He did.”

  “Alright. Did you know that you were violating a federal law by complying with his request?”

  The girl is biting her lip. Her face is so pale her skin is almost translucent. Tears are brimming in her blue eyes. “Y-y-yes. B-b-but he said he’d turn me into the honor committee if I didn’t do what he said.”

  Saint smirks at Scott. “I see. So we’re all gathered here today because this honor committee is more concerned with two consenting adults joining together in sexual congress than they are with a student committing ethical and legal violations.”

  I half expect Scott to butt in with a “Objection, honor. Speculation,” but then I remember we’re not actually in a court room.

  The Dean stands up. “Is this true, Scott?”

  Scott is looking panicked. “No, of course not, Dean.”

  “So you’re saying this young lady is lying?”

  Saint interrupts. “This is un-fucking-believable.”

  The Dean turns purple. His face looks like I punched him. “Young man! I will not have this language – “

  “Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Fuckety fuck fuck. You afraid God is going to strike me down? Well, go ahead.” Saint is raging. “I’m sick of this bullshit. Scott broke the law. We broke the honor code, me and Esther. Fine. I’ll admit that. Just make a damn decision already. I’m sick of this.”

  He holds out his hand to me and I take it. We walk out of the office and sit back in the waiting area.

  “That was…wow,” I say quietly.

  The secretary is staring at us nosily.

  “What are you looking at?” Saint snaps at her.

  She nearly bites the eraser off the pencil she has in her teeth in shock. “Sorry,” she mumbles.

  Saint grabs my hand. “I kind of lost it at the end. Oh well.”

  I laugh. “I just want all this to be over already. I can’t take the-“

  The door to the office opens. “He’s ready to see you.” It’s the librarian’s assistant. Soon, the entire committee including Scott files out of the room. I brace myself for Saint to punch Scott in the face, but they pass each other without a word.

  Saint and I walk inside.

  “That was quick,” Saint says.

  The Dean has replaced Scott at the head of the room. “I suggest you consider that you’ve said more than enough and shut your mouth, Brother Williams.”

  Saint nods.

  “We’ve convened. Scott is being expelled. And you two. Well. I’m not going to lie. We need your alumni donations and the clout you bring to this school. It doesn’t make me happy, but you two are going to be allowed to finish out the semester. Saint, you won’t be walking the stage at graduation, but you will receive your diploma from this institution. Esther, you can finish out this semester. I will write you a standard letter of recommendation for any institution you want to transfer to. It won’t be glowing, but it won’t be negative either.”

  “Thank you, Dean,” I say, nodding my head at him.

  “Now you both get out of my office. And if I see you too together anywhere but the courting room, you’re both expelled. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, Dean,” Saint and I chime together.

  We walk out of the Dean’s office with plenty of room for Jesus between us. We stop in the breezeway outside. The sky has opened up, and the rain is pouring down.

  “Well. Better than nothing,” Saint says, shrugging.

  “We got off easy,” I reply, rubbing my eyes.

  “You alright?”

  “I’m getting a headache. It’s nothing,” I reply. We stare out at the rain for several minutes. “I don’t think this is going to let up. So we better just make a
run for it.”

  Saint nods. “Looks like we got through the worst of it.”

  “Not exactly,” I remind him. “I still haven’t heard a word from my parents. That means my dad is stewing and letting his anger take him over. That’s never a good sign, trust me.”

  Saint reaches out to touch me but he pulls away at the last second, likely remembering the Dean’s words. “You call me if they try to pull anything with you. Remember, you don’t have to take their calls.”

  “I’m financially dependent on them. I kind of do,” I remind him. We stand in silence, neither one of us sure of what to say. “I better get back. It seems like I need to go apply to some schools in Minneapolis.”

  Saint beams at me. “You sure you’re not going to mind the cold temperatures?”

  I scoff. “I grew up in upstate New York. Minnesota has nothing on Buffalo. You’re the one who wanted sandy beaches. I’m just fine with snow.”

  “And fireplaces?” he asks.

  “I’m definitely going to need a fireplace,” I say to him.

  “You can have whatever you want, Delilah.”

  My need to touch him nearly topples me into his arms. But we’re connecting with words right now, and that’s going to have to be enough.

  “Goodnight, Saint.”

  “Night, Delilah.”

  We go our separate ways, my stomach twisted with a combination of guilt and happiness. I need to face my parents sooner rather than later. I know that.

  But right now, I’ve got bigger fish to fry.

  I’ve got colleges to apply to.

  Right?

  I run through the pouring rain and realized that I’ve made my mind up. I’m calling my parents tonight. It’s not that late already and besides that, I want to get this over with. Gone are the days where I would put off confrontation.

  I want to rip the bandage off as quickly and painlessly as I can.

  I step into the supply closet on the first floor of my dormitory. The smell of bleach now reminds me of Saint and sex and love. Maybe the strange perfume will help soften the blow with my parents.

  I make the phone call, picking at my fingers as I do it.

  My mother answers the phone. “Esther,” she whispers quietly. “Hi, sweetie.”