Big Bad Baller: A Bad Boy Sports Romance

by Tia Siren

  That fuzzy feeling, however, vanished as soon as I arrived at my front door. Remembering our fight and the awful things Bill said and did the previous night, I closed my eyes and murmured, “Let him be asleep or so engaged in his video games he doesn’t even notice me come in.”

  With that prayer on repeat, I found my keys, inserted them into the door, and turned the lock with a small click. After removing my shoes, I tiptoed inside trying to be as quiet as a mouse. When I saw no sign of Bill, I breathed a sigh of relief and grabbed a can of soda from the fridge before sinking down into one of the kitchen table chairs.

  “So, you’ve officially joined the Jesse Valen fan club then?” a harsh, cutting voice sneered from across the hall.

  It was Bill, obviously, and he strode into the kitchen, reeking of cheap booze, and sat down at the table across from me. It was not a companionable gesture, but one of dominance.

  Decided to stand my ground, I crossed my arms and looked right into his eyes. “I have never had a problem with Jesse. That was only you.”

  “Yes, well,” he growled, “I have every reason to be angry with him.”

  With surprising viciousness, I crumpled the can of soda in my hand. “Look, Bill,” I hissed, “I don’t know what happened that night between the two of you, but I do know that your life was not the only one affected by the consequences of that fuck up. Got it?”

  He chuckled a menacing, condescending, snide chuckle of mockery. “If you only knew what he did to me you’d never have banged him.”

  I sighed and threw my head into my hands. I was so tired of this. Tired of this animosity, this condescension, this constant feeling like no matter what I did I was an idiot, a screw-up, and a bitch.

  “Jesse Valen is kind to me!” I yelled. “That’s more than you have done for at least five years. So just stop.”

  “Mary—”

  “Mary nothing,” I barked. “Look, I know you’ve had it hard, but I am beyond caring for this little pity party of yours. You know what? Other people experience things just as bad as you did, and they get over it. The way you’re acting is pathetic. You wallow around here all day, feeling sorry for yourself, while other people get up and move on with their lives. Man up, Bill, and move on!”

  I expected him to be angry. I expected him to leap out of this seat and shout at me or throw things, or at least curse, but he did none of those things. Instead, he smiled. It was a mean, cruel smile like you’d see on a street punk about to kick a dog, and it made me wonder who this person in front of me was. He sure wasn’t the brother my parents raised.

  “You say those things now,” he said, “but give it a few weeks. We’ll see how fond you are of Mr. Jesse Valen then.”

  He rose, gave me a sneering, condescending wink, and ambled from the room. As a door slammed behind him, I felt winded and upset but realized I was not as hurt as I thought I’d be. Jesse’s comfort still warmed me from within, like a jacket on a cold night, or body armor in battle.

  “Please, God,” I whispered. “Please don’t let Bill be right.”

  I plodded up the stairs, changed for my shift, and stumbled off to work.

  * * *

  It was the kind of shift a waitress loved for the tips but hated for the exertion. What made it even crazier was that Jesse and a bunch of his football-playing friends marched in, sat at a table for twelve, and basically took over the place. Lucky me, I was assigned his table.

  Sigh.

  It wasn’t that I didn’t want to see Jesse, of course, I did. I wanted to see him all the time; I just didn’t want him to see me here while I was covered in cooking grease and smelling like fried rice. To my surprise, as I approached the table with my pad and pencil at the ready, Jesse didn’t seem to mind.

  “Hey, Mary!” He greeted and rose to kiss me on the lips. “You look lovely today.”

  My cheeks blushed a deep scarlet color. Usually, men like him didn’t want to display a girl like me to their friends. But I guess Jesse Valen was different. Thank God, he was different.

  We talked a little while I took their orders, but unfortunately, I was not able to spend too much time with him. It was a busy shift, and though I fetched him drinks and squeezed his hand once again, I spent most of my time tending to others. The story of my life, I guess. Still, when he and his friends were finished, Jesse came up to me and asked when I’d be able to see him again.

  “I’m sorry, Jesse,” I said, genuinely meaning it. “I work every single night this week and have classes during the day.”

  “What about in the morning?” he asked tentatively touching my hip.

  “Well, my classes start at nine, but I have to be on the road by eight to arrive on time. So unless you want to meet me for breakfast at like … seven, we’ll have to count it—”

  “Seven is perfect,” he exclaimed. I must’ve looked surprised, for he quickly explained. “That’s how early practices start during the season. It is no problem for me.”

  “Wow,” I said. “Okay, then. How’s Wednesday?”

  “Perfect,” he declared and kissed me on the cheek. “I’ll see you later then, all right?”

  “All right,” I murmured and watched as he and his friends bounded out the door.

  As you can imagine, I spent the rest of my shift feeling like I was floating on air.

  Several weeks passed in this manner. I worked hard, and Jesse partied hard, but we still found time to hang out together. Usually, it was in the morning before my classes, which gave us little time to have sex. However, on those occasions when we simply could not take it anymore, Jesse would burst in after work, literally sweep me off my feet, and carry me right to his hotel room.

  It was wonderful, but also very strange. For most of the time, it was like I was back in high school, laughing and talking with him about stupid, silly things and just generally having fun. The rest of time, of course, was a whirlwind of touches and sex and mind-blowing pleasure. I liked that we could chat with each other like the old days and be friends as well as lovers. It was the easiest thing in the world to be with him.

  During our time together, neither of us mentioned Bill. There was no point, and we both knew it.

  Bill, of course, knew what was going on. I might have been able to hide my sneaking in and out of the house, but I couldn’t hide my happiness. Often, I found myself smiling, humming, or singing around the house. Predictably, Bill took my new behavior as an opportunity to taunt and tease me. He kept dropping insidious hints about Jesse’s past and implying that he would betray me in the end, but I was determined not to listen. Jesse’s growing affection for me was like a suit of armor that protected me against my brother’s meanness, and though I knew our relationship had an expiration date—namely, the start of Jesse’s professional season—I was determined to enjoy it for as long as I could.

  Then, in a single moment, everything changed.

  On a Friday morning, about two months into our relationship, I woke up feeling rather ill. Slightly dizzy, I waddled into the bathroom and promptly threw up.

  “Oh, man,” I groaned, not only out of sickness but also out of frustration.

  Friday’s were the busiest day of the week at the restaurant, and I literally could not afford to be sick tonight. Determined to get myself in good enough shape to work, I opened up the medicine cabinet and shuffled things around in search for some stomach medicine. It was then that I noticed the box of tampons, untouched and collecting dust.

  That’s weird, I thought. I bought those weeks ago. Four weeks ago, to be exact.

  My legs grew weak as panic settled into my heart, but I forced them to move towards my bedroom. I rushed over to my purse, seized my wallet, and pulled out my little packet of birth control. I examined the package carefully counting backward to double check that I’d taken the pill every single day, as I thought I had.

  I pulled in a long, calming breath as I saw that the packet checked out. I had taken every single one. My heart returned to its normal pace as I stuffed i
t back into my wallet and threw it into my purse. On impact, it hit the junk collected at the bottom, and that’s when I saw a faint glimmer of foil.

  With a trembling hand, I retrieved it and saw it was last month’s packet. My heart sank to my feet at the sight of a single white pill, still waiting there for me.

  “God, no!” I cried, frantically swallowing the pill as if that would do any good. What were the chances? What would missing that one, little, lonesome pill actually do?

  I didn’t know, but I had to.

  Knowing that I would be late for my shift anyways, I made a detour to the local pharmacy. Completely paranoid, I kept glancing over my shoulder, watching to see if anyone saw me purchasing the dreaded pregnancy test, but luckily, no one seemed to care. Since there was no bathroom at the pharmacy, I had to take it to work.

  My boss was not mad at my tardiness. I was a good employee and was almost never late. Ha. Ha. Never late. Not until freaking today.

  He also didn’t mind when, after clocking in, I rushed immediately to the bathroom. I completed the test and then sat there, waiting, waiting, watching the timer on my cell phone clicking down. And while I waited, I prayed.

  Please no… I thought. Please no.

  The timer on my phone binged. I closed my eyes and held the pregnancy test up at eye level.

  Open your eyes, Mary, I ordered myself, but my lids did not obey.

  Open them. Open them NOW!

  I opened them. It took several long seconds for my eyes to focus on that fateful, single word: “Pregnant.”

  I felt as if the floor had opened up beneath me, and everything, my whole world, fell into a terrible whirlpool that sucked me down, down, down into the darkness below.

  “It can’t be!” I cried and took another test.

  After waiting the assigned number of minutes, this one also read positive.

  “No, no, no, nonono,” I murmured again and again. The sound was a desperate, inhuman cry that reflected exactly how terrified I was. How could I have let myself be so stupid? How could that one little fuck up have backfired so terribly?

  In the middle of my indignation, anger blossomed within me. Why me? I thought. I knew so many girls who were careless with their birth control. They forgot to take their pills, gave up on condoms halfway through, or even relied on the simple “pulling out” method to prevent pregnancy, and they didn’t get pregnant. Then, there was me, good-girl Mary Taft, always so diligent, always so dutiful, who missed one freaking pill and ended up knocked up.

  The injustice of it all boiled inside and threatened to burst out in threats or tears, I didn’t know which.

  “Mary?” My boss’s voice mixed with the sound of a simple knock on the door. “Mary? Are you okay in there?”

  I opened my mouth, not knowing if I would cry or scream. What I managed was a hollow, damp sort of whisper, “Yes, yes, I’m fine.”

  After fixing my clothes and burying the pregnancy tests deep in the feminine hygiene box, I staggered out of the stall, washed my hands, and greeted my boss outside the door.

  “Jesus, Mary, you look terrible.” He gasped at my pale, red-eyed form. “Were you sick in there?”

  “No, I…” I faltered. “I just…needed a few minutes, you know?”

  He was not convinced. With eyes brimming with concern, he touched my shoulder and said, “Look, why don’t you go home? I don’t think it’ll be too busy tonight, and the other girls would surely appreciate your share in the tips.”

  “No, thank you, Dave,” I murmured back, not quite meeting his eyes. “I really would rather work…you know, stay busy and all.”

  He gazed at me, with the steady, penetrating look of someone who definitely sensed that something was up. However, he also seemed to realize that distracting myself and focusing on the banality of work, might help with my grievances.

  “Okay,” he relented at last. “But if you feel ill, need a break or anything like that, you let me know. Got it?”

  I nodded and thanked him for his understanding. Then, I tied my apron around my waist and threw myself into my work. I concentrated on the orders as I had never concentrated before, and somehow, everything else was blotted from my mind.

  Chapter 7

  As soon as I had a minute to spare between customers, I texted Jesse. The message was simple: we need to talk. I knew such aggressiveness and acuity only days before he was bound to leave would probably make him nervous, but that was okay. Nervousness was exactly what the two of us should be feeling.

  The rest of my shift passed in a blur. I made great tips, which sort of made up for the rocky start of my day. Once my shift ended, I called Jesse, and he picked me up and drove me to the hotel. Although this had become a standard custom between us over the past couple of months, tonight the atmosphere between us was completely different.

  Instead of being just two people who wanted to have sex, we were two people bound to have a serious discussion and, as such, we were quiet and stiff around each other. Every once in a while, I made sure to smile at Jesse or touch his knee. I wanted to show him that I wasn’t mad at him, but at the same time, I couldn’t bring myself to have a normal conversation when the weight of the news I had to give him was hanging over my head.

  “All right, Mary, what’s up?” he asked as soon as the door of his hotel room closed behind him.

  Until that point, I had been stoic, brave. However, at the sight of him standing there, looking adorable in his white T and faded jeans, all my strength left me. Tears sprang unbidden from my eyes, and my knees fell out from under me. I would’ve hit the floor if Jesse had not rushed forward and caught me just in time.

  “What is it, Mary?” he implored, stroking the back of my head. “What’s wrong?”

  “I…” I stammered, too overcome to speak. “I’m…”

  “Yes? What is it? You can tell me, baby.”

  I don’t know where the strength to finally tell him came from. Perhaps he was lending it to me, transferring it through his embrace, or maybe it was from the tender way he had said the word baby. Either way, I found the courage to push him away and hold his gaze with mine.

  “Jesse,” I started in a shaky voice and sighed. “I’m pregnant.”

  At first, he smiled as if I were joking. His eyes widened expectantly as if waiting for me to shout, “Gotcha!” but I just continued to gaze at him. My eyes brimmed with sadness, fear, and perhaps, just a little bit of hope.

  “Jesus,” he exhaled after a couple of minutes and sagged onto the bed—the same bed that was the culprit of our current predicament.

  For a moment, I wondered why I had to pay such a high price for the fun and pleasure we found with each other. However, before I could arrive at a solution, Jesse spoke again.

  “Are you sure?”

  I sighed and sat down beside him. “I’ve taken two tests. I have a doctor’s appointment set up for next week, but I’m pretty sure. It’s hard to explain, but my body feels different.”

  He nodded a few times. Then, in a voice that sounded almost afraid, he asked, “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m not sure,” I admitted. “I guess that’s why I’m talking to you.”

  Jesse put his arm around me and, for several minutes, we just sat in silence. As I waited for his response, a million different thoughts and fears crowded my mind. Would he ask me to get rid of it? Would he stay with me, or would he abandon me to my own devices? How much did an abortion cost? Could I afford it? Could I afford not to afford it?

  As the questions kept twirling inside my head, I realized that everything depended on Jesse’s next move. With anticipation pulsing off me in waves, I watched as he opened his mouth, but he did not say anything. Instead, he laughed.

  It was just the slightest chuckle at first, small enough almost to be mistaken for a clearing of the throat or a cough. However, in a matter of seconds it grew to a giggle, and then to a full-out laugh.

  I was disturbed. It was not the laughter of someone who sensed some
thing funny. It was the laughter of someone who’d gone insane.

  “Do you know why…” he said as he wiped tears from his eyes and struggled to catch his breath. “Do you know why your brother hates me so much?”

  My eyes narrowed. “I assumed it was because you’re successful and he’s not.”

  The laughter diminished. Now it sounded almost like a sob.

  “That’s part of it, yes,” he murmured. “But it’s not the worst of it. The night he was arrested, I was there too. We had both been drinking, we were both high, and I was the one who wanted to get fast food. Fucking chili cheese fries. A whole life ruined for fucking chili cheese fries.”

  Jesse huffed as he continued, “I made him drive. He was always a better driver—he was always better at everything. School. Football. Life in general. He thrived, and I sucked.” He shook his head and took a deep breath. “Anyways, I asked him to drive and didn’t think anything of it. I didn’t realize that, by making him drive, I was shunting the responsibility on his shoulders and taking it off mine.”

  “I know all this,” I interrupted. “I know you were out with Bill that night. Everyone does. What does this have to do with anything?”

  He closed his eyes in a grimace. There was no laughter in him now. No sobbing either. Now, his voice was as tender and naked as exposed flesh on a winter’s night.

  “It has to do with me being in the car when Bill crashed it,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

  “What do you mean?” I demanded. “It was just him and your ex-girlfriend in the car. They were the ones who got arrested.”

  “Yes, they were,” Jesse said in a sad tone. “But I was with them. No one ever wondered why Elizabeth was sitting in the backseat, but I was the reason. I was seated in the passenger seat, and somehow during the investigation, no one thought to ask why the passenger seat was empty.”