My upcoming novel Pregnant For His Teammate is a steamy, sports romance with intrigue, drama, mystery and a psychological element. Naturally, the romance between Vance and Karnysha is also sizzling hot.
Have you ever imagined a world where you meet “the one” while pregnant with another man’s child? It’s one thing to be a single mom, and another to have another man’s baby while looking for love.
What happens when the person is right, but the timing is all wrong?
Read the first chapter FREE in this blog post.
Romance Novel Excerpts: Pregnant For His Teammate
Chapter One
A Bad Breakup
Karnysha Jefferson
Tedmund’s fingers snaked through my braids and he yanked my head to the left, slamming my body into his apartment wall.
“OUCH! You’re hurting me!”
“SHUT UP AND I’LL LET GO!”
“Fuck off, Tedmund!”
“I’ll make you pay, Karnysha, I swear to God…”
“I’m pregnant with your child. I dare you, dickhead! I dare you!”
He punched the wall next to my face. I screamed and ducked, running down the hallway of Tedmund’s apartment, racing for the bedroom where I could barricade myself in when he calmed down.
“I swear to God, Karnysha…”
I reached the bedroom door before him, but at seven feet, three inches tall, Tedmund could grab me from across the room, and he did, grabbing the back of my neck and yanking me back.
“Where. Is. It,” he growled.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“You know, Karnysha. You knew where it was.”
I scrambled for something to say that would calm Tedmund down, “Can’t you get a new one made?”
“No!”
“I swear, I didn’t take it.”
“I left it right inside that vase. Right there.”
“Maybe one of your side-pieces took it!”
“Watch your mouth.”
I’d sealed my fate. Tedmund wouldn’t stop hitting me if I taunted him. My heart raced. I had to get out of here. I had to get away from him. I was pregnant. Love shouldn’t be like this. Men don’t hit you when they love you, no matter how much they apologize afterwards. No man who really gives a shit about you will treat you like this.
Just leave? Well, not that easy. First, Tedmund had me squeezed tightly in his grasp.
“Let go of me.”
He released my arm from his grip and I grabbed it, rubbing the area where his fingers had pressed into my skin.
“This is how you treat the mother of your child?”
Tedmund sighed.
“I’m sorry, Karnysha.”
“You’re always fuckin’ sorry.”
“I mean it,” Tedmund said, walking to the kitchen and pouring himself a full glass of Hennessy.
“Want any?”
“No. I want you to stop drinking.”
“Shut up, Karnysha.”
So much for sorry.
He drank, and my heart quickened. I’d come here with a plan. As usual, Tedmund had gone crazy on me, and I was having second thoughts. Only this time, I’d practiced for every scenario with my best friend, Cynthea. She was just a phone call away in case Tedmund went crazy.
“You have a game tomorrow. What do you think your coach will say if you show up drunk?”
“I said, shut up.”
I reached for my keys inside my bag, pushing them between my fingers in case I needed an easy weapon.
“Why do you even need that key?”
“It’s none of your business.”
“I didn’t take it.”
“Whatever, Karnysha. I don’t want to talk about it. Now get dressed. I told the team we’d meet them at the club.”
“Which one?”
“I said get dressed,” Tedmund snarled.
“No.”
“What did you just say to me?”
“You heard me,” I replied, my hands trembling as I gripped my keys fiercely.
Tedmund polished off his Hennessy and approached me. The cognac on his breath churned my stomach.
“What did you say, Karnysha?”
“I’m not going to the club.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s over, Tedmund. I’m dumping you.”
There. I finally said it. I could finally get free of the dick who maintained a tight grip over my life.
He laughed. It wasn’t a polite or awkward chuckle but a deep laugh with a vibrato that shook Tedmund Sweeney’ high ceiling kitchen.
“Hilarious.”
“I’m not joking. It’s over. And I’m leaving.”
“You’re pregnant. Where the hell are you gonna go? You gonna become a worthless ass welfare queen? Stupid ass bitch.”
“I don’t know where I’d go,” I lied.
Tedmund snickered, “Brilliant plan. Pregnant ex-model homeless in New York City. I’m sure you’ll have clients lining down the block. Have I ever told you how fat you’ve been getting? Good luck getting another man. You’ve reached your peak.”
“That’s not funny, Tedmund. And anyway, I don’t care what you think. Cynthea’s coming over the weekend to get my things.”
He glanced over at me and saw my pursed lips and shaking arms. He realized I was serious, but this wasn’t the reaction I expected from him.
“You expect me to stop you?”
“No,” I lied.
“Good. Get out of here. You’ll just be a trash whore knocked up by Tedmund Sweeney. It’ll be the best fucking thing that ever happened to you.”
I saw him for the pathetic man he was and for a moment, I nearly felt sorry for him.
“Try to quit drinking, Tedmund.”
“Get out. If you’re leaving, get out.”
I walked towards the front door of his apartment, but before I could reach the door to the penthouse, Tedmund was behind me. I reached for the front door and he grabbed my other hand, throwing me up against the wall again. I cried out as my head slammed against the wall.
“Ow!”
I screamed and tried to scratch at him. Tedmund’s hands wrapped around my throat and he slammed my head against the wall again. I wriggled like an insect and scratched at his arms so he’d let me go.
“P-please,” I gasped.
He’d kill me, and then he’d kill the baby. If I didn’t get out now, I knew what would happen. I wouldn’t save myself, but I’d do anything for the unborn life growing inside me.
“Why are you doing this now, huh Karnysha? Are you sleeping with one of my teammates? Are you choking on another guy’s cock…”
“Let me go…” I gasped.
He loosened his grip enough for me to talk.
“Tell me,” he growled, “Now.”
I stared into his deep brown eyes with resentment.
“I’m not cheating. Please, Tedmund… I’m not cheating. I promise.”
“Good. Because that pussy is mine. Mine forever.”
He let go of me forcefully, and I nearly lost my balance.
“Get out of my house, whore.”
“Goodbye, Tedmund.”
“Whatever.”
I made it to the hallway and breathed a sigh of relief. After five years, I’d shaken Tedmund Sweeney, and all because of my miracle baby — all because of her. I touched a hand to my stomach and smiled as I walked away. No more Tedmund. I’d finally done it. Once I got closer to the elevator, I felt freer.
I walked outside and prepared to walk the mile or so back to my place. I reached for my phone and called Cynthea as soon as I was on the street.
“I’m alive.”
“Thank goodness!”
“Yeah. It’s surreal. I finally did it.”
“Good. Did you bring up Bali?”
“No.”
“Fuck him. Did he lay hands on you?” Cynthea asked.
“No… Well, yeah. A bit,” I admitted. Cynthea made me promise I’d stop lying about when Tedmund went too far with me.
“Fuck that bastard.”
“He’s still the father of my child,” I reminded her.
“Ugh.”
“I could do worse. He’s in the NBA.”
“He’s a deadbeat,” Cynthea reminded me, “They’re all deadbeats.”
“Right.”
“So fuck them!”
“Right.”
“Are you home?”
“Not yet.”
“K, I gotta go so call me once you’re home?”
“Gotcha.”
“Love you girlie!”
“Same.”
Cynthea left me in bliss for the walk home. Yes, I’d caught my man cheating on me while I was four months pregnant with his baby after we’d gone through so much to have this kid, but that wasn’t even the worst part of our relationship, just the straw that broke the camel’s back.
My feet were heavy as I climbed the stairs up to my apartment, much smaller than Tedmund’s on a sketchier, more fragrant side of town. As I approached the door, I noticed a piece of paper stuck to it.
These Jehovah’s Witnesses at it again, I thought to myself.
I didn’t mind the kind old ladies and their faith so much as I wished they would stop leaving pamphlets taped to my door. As I got closer, I got a sinking feeling that Jehovah’s Witnesses didn’t have red pamphlets and “EVICTION NOTICE” probably wasn’t one of those obscure books of the Bible either. I grabbed the piece of paper and ripped it off the door, rereading it repeatedly.
“This serves as notice that you have been evicted from the premises, effective immediately. Please speak to the manager to begin the process of moving your belongings. Your presence on this property without the permission of the manager is a crime, and the authorities will be called.”
Bullshit. I paid my rent on time every month, and I’d never so much as smoked inside the building. Evicted? Like this? No way in hell. I chucked the paper on the ground and stuck my key in the lock. I rattled it.
“What the hell,” I muttered out loud to myself.
I rattled the key in the lock again. The key didn’t budge. I picked up my cell phone and called my landlord, a chubby, short white woman who lived in yoga pants, messy buns and twenty-year-old New Balance sneakers.
“Kathy? It’s me, Karnysha.”
“Oh hey Karnysha, what can we do for ya?”
“I just uh… showed up at my apartment after a day away and there was an eviction notice pinned to my door and uh… my key won’t work.”
“Okay…”
“Well uh. This has to be some mistake. Can you check?”
“Jerry’s out of town, but he’s got an entire system, I’m sure it’s not a mistake.”
“Is your husband here in LA?”
“Yup. He must have changed the locks.”
“Could I call him, get them changed back? Kathy, you can check the direct deposits, I’ve never been late on a payment, I swear.”
“Call Jerry, 555-4322.”
“Kathy… Please?”
“Sorry, hun. Call Jerry.”
FUCK! Like my day couldn’t get any worse. My neck was still sore from Tedmund’s tight squeeze.
“Okay. Thanks.”
I hung up, my hands trembling. Kathy’s reaction hadn’t exactly been apologetic or reassuring. I called Jerry.
“Howdy, who is this?”
“It’s Karnysha Jefferson, your tenant in the Hamilton Estate Complex.”
“Oh, Karnysha! What’s goin’ on?”
“I got home today to an eviction notice on my door.”
“Right.”
“I’m sure it’s a mistake. I’m not behind on rent or anything.”
“According to Ryan in accounting, you are.”
“I’m not though. I pay by check every month. The money comes out of my account.”
“Hm. I’ll look into that. I’ll call you back tomorrow and we’ll see if we can sort it out.”
“Tomorrow? Jerry, listen, maybe you don’t understand… My key doesn’t work. I can’t get into my apartment. At all.”
“What about that fella of yours, the Sundevil?”
“Tedmund and I broke up.”
“Oh, sorry to hear about that ma’am.”
“Jerry, where am I supposed to go tonight? Can’t you call your guy and find out what’s going on?”
“No can do. I got a business dinner with some developers from Denver.”
“Thanks, Jerry. Thanks.”
I hung up and slammed my phone against the wall with a frustrated groan, lucky that I didn’t crack it. Great. I couldn’t go home, I couldn’t go to Tedmund’s and I was tiring of standing on my feet. The first trimester had been hell and so far the second wasn’t any better.
I called Cynthea.
“Hey girl, I’m home. But I have some bad news.”
“Is it Tedmund?”
“No. There’s been some kind of fuck up with my landlord and they served me an eviction notice, changed the lock and everything.”
“Damn girl, what happened?”
“I don’t know. It’s a mistake. I just — I’m pregnant. I can’t handle this right now!”
“Come down here.”
“My money’s inside, I only got about $20.”
“Uber.”
“I told you I don’t use Uber anymore,” I snapped.
“Sheesh, calm down! One Uber driver grabs your ass and you’re willing to throw the whole thing out the window.”
“Sorry, I don’t want to deal with creeps, Cynthea. I’m pregnant and hormonal and having the worst goddamn day.”
“Okay. Fine. Walk down here then. Can you handle it?”
“Yeah. I think so.”
“Great. I’ll wait for you. But Felix and I wanted to take you out.”
“I don’t want to go out…”
“You have to. You got dumped by Tedmund Sweeney, the media is going to be on this shit.”
“I don’t care about the media. I’m going to be a mom. I want a good life for me and my baby, that’s it.”
“Your baby will never have to worry about a damn thing. Ha! Knocked up by a Sundevil. Lucky ass bitch.”
Cynthea could be so insensitive sometimes… Lucky? Tedmund Sweeney beat me every week like clockwork from the moment I was pregnant. It was like he’d trapped me so I could be his personal punching bag. Trust me, it wasn’t the other way around. Before Tedmund, I’d been hot shit. An ex-model, still close to a Size 2 and cute as hell! I knew my worth. At least I thought I did. Until him. Tedmund made me question everything. Most of all, my sanity.
“Fine. I’m on my way.”
“Good. But no drinking for you!”
“Duh!”
“Ciao, girlie!” Cynthea shrilled before hanging up.
I started walking towards Cynthea’s place, a long way away from mine on foot. I felt like a fool, adorned in Yeezy sneakers and a Gucci bag, but with only $20 in my pocket and an NBA player’s baby. I’d become a stereotype for L.A. Models, and the love that I’d been seeking never appeared. I stomped on the eviction notice, causing the orange paper to rip as I stormed away.
At night, the sweltering heat of Los Angeles in the summer cooled to a tolerable but smoggy climate. I walked as fast as I could, hoping to get to Cynthea’s place before dark. Dark fell before I’d completed a third of my journey. I reached into my purse for my phone, hoping that I could convince her to meet me at a café a little further away from her place so we could walk together. I pulled my phone out when I heard footsteps behind me.
They were too close and too fast for me to react. I felt the cold steel press into my belly. My baby.
“Give me your fuckin’ purse.”
My body shook from head to toe.
“T-T-T-take it.”
“Give me the fuckin’ phone.”
He yanked the purse off my shoulder and I handed him the phone, my body trembling as I didn’t dare to move.
“Now the Yeezys. Take off the fuckin’ Yeezys.”
What the fuck? Robbers these days were getting bold.
“No!”
He prodded my side with the gun.
“Okay, okay, fine.”
“These ugly fuckin’ shoes go for about $300, don’t they?”
I didn’t bother answering as I shamefully stripped down to my white socks.
“Good. Now you stand still missy and if you dare turn around, I’ll blow your fuckin’ face in.”
“I won’t turn around.”
“I know.”
He ran off in the opposite direction. By the time I dared to turn around, the street was empty and I stood all alone with no way of calling Cynthea, no shoes, and no purse. There went my emergency $20. I kept walking, hugging my shoulders and staring off into the distance with a dazed expression. I couldn’t feel the chilly night and my mind was blank as I went through the motions, plodding one foot in front of the other.
A loud car horn blared behind me.
BEEEEEEEP.
Great, another asshole.
BEEEEEEEEEEEPP.
I kept walking, and the car pulled alongside me, slowing down.
“HEY!”
I didn’t turn and look.
“HEY! Sweeney’ chick!”
I jerked my head around. Vance Tompkins, my ex-boyfriend’s teammate and, as I’d guessed, another complete asshole.
“Oh. Hey. Didn’t hear you.”
“Sure. What’s up, where are your shoes?”
“Long story.”
“I got time. Where’s Tedmund?”
“I dumped his sorry ass! Now can you leave me the hell alone?”
He grinned.
“Sorry to hear that.”
His grin showed otherwise.
“Yeah, you look sorry.”
His grin didn’t falter.
“Where are you goin’ with no shoes?”
“The Boulevard. My friend Cynthea’s place.”
He laughed.
“You’re going to walk forty minutes with no shoes?”
“Yup.”
“Why don’t you let me give you a ride?”
“Because I wouldn’t get in a car with another NBA player if you offered me fifty-thousand dollars. Cash.”
“Your girl Cynthea’s at the club, anyway. Thought you should know.”
“What?”
“I follow her on the ‘gram.”
“I bet you do,” I replied with an exaggerated eye roll which amused Vance.
“What? Everyone knows Cynthea Wheeler is smoking hot.”
“Thanks for the offer, but I think I can handle it.”
“You don’t have a purse. Or a phone. Or shoes. Let me guess, mugging?”
My cheeks grew hot.
“No.”
“Why don’t you just go home?”
“I got evicted today.”
“Damn. And you still won’t accept my offer for a ride? Tedmund must have really screwed the pooch.”
“He did. I’m pregnant.”
“Okay, now this is a matter of honor. Get in the car or I’ll honk my horn and I won’t stop until you open that door.”
“Vance, no—”
“BEEEEEE—”
“OKAY FINE!”
My voice carried over the blaring horn of his Mercedes and he leaned over to open the door to the passenger side of the fire engine red sports car. I climbed in against my better judgment and shut the door. What choice did I have?
“What are you doing in this neighborhood?”
“Honestly?”
“Duh.”
“Looking for Tedmund.”
“Oh.”
“He didn’t mention you guys had —”
He drew his finger across his throat with a gruesome slicing sound.
“This time we’re broken up for good.”
“Cool. Cool. Well. Not cool. He’s my bro.”
“Can we stop talking about Tedmund?”
“Sure. Sure thing.”
“Thank you. I appreciate the ride.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” Vance grumbled.
“I know. I’m just a little frazzled. This whole thing with Tedmund. I didn’t see it coming and today has been awful. To make matters worse, I’m pregnant. Being pregnant kinda sucks.”
“Pregnant, eh?”
“19 weeks.”
“Damn. You don’t look pregnant.”
“I know you think that’s supposed to be a compliment.”
“Isn’t it?”
“Whatever, Vance. Where are you taking me, anyway?”
“You’re barefoot, pregnant, wandering the streets without a cellphone. I should take you to an asylum.”
“Very funny.”
“My place,” Vance conceded.
“I don’t want to go to your place!”
“Calm down, I have no ill intentions. I’ve got plenty of room and you look like you’re in a world of trouble.”
“What if I still don’t want to go?”
“Sorry, Karnysha. You don’t have a choice.”
He swerved out of our neighborhood and started driving out towards Malibu.
“Are we heading to the coast?”
“Yup.”
“Pull over. I want you to let me down.”
“No.”
“I said pull over!”
Vance jerked the car over to the side of the road. I reached for the handle, but he slammed down on the locks trapping me in the car.
“Stop,” he insisted.
“Let me out of here! HELP! HELP! I’M BEING KIDNAPPED!”
“Will you calm down?”
“No! You’ve kidnapped me!”
“I am not kidnapping you. We need to talk.”
“About what?!”
I jostled the door handle again.
“I’m pregnant! And you’re stressing me out!”
“Too bad. You know something about the Rebels, I know you do.”
“Huh?”
“The organization. The Rebels.”
“What are you talking about!?”
“So you really know nothing?”
“I promise you, I don’t have a damn clue.”
He relaxed his posture and drove off the curb.
“Good. Good.”
“What the hell was that about?”
He grunted and kept driving until we got to his white, minimalist house with a manicured garden, right on the Malibu coast. Vance parked and unlocked the door. I pulled the handle open and walked out. The sea breeze hit me instantly and for a moment, I forgot that I’d been dragged there against my will.
“Come on, no one’s home except the housekeeper.”
“This could be dangerous for me, you know, going into a strange man’s house all alone.”
“No one gets murdered in Malibu.”
“Oh, that’s comforting.”
“Listen, you can come inside, take a load off those bare feet of yours and have something to eat. Or you can walk back to downtown LA for the next eight hours.”
“You wouldn’t even get me a cab?”
“Not a chance. We still need to talk.”
“You weren’t looking for Tedmund, were you? In my neighborhood?”
“C’mon in,” Vance replied, ignoring my question as he thrust open the front door to his house.
The house was small enough that I imagined it was Vance’s second home. It was still a Malibu beach house, so what the home lacked in size, it more than made up for in decadent luxury.
“Wow. Nice house.”
“My realtor insisted on it after the championship last year.”
“It’s gorgeous.”
“And quiet,” Vance said, “Too quiet.”
“No wife? No kids? Not one of those ballplayers who plan to settle down?”
Vance laughed.
“Not me. Settling down means a bunch of bullshit.”
I scoffed.
“Ballers. You’re the only ones who think a wife and kids sound like bullshit.”
“Not the only ones.”
“Whatever.”
“Hey, I don’t mean to be rude. Sit. Have something to drink.”
“Thanks.”
I sat on his large metal stool, my feet barely touching the ground as Vance handed me a glass of water.
“I guess you won’t be wanting anything stronger.”
“Wanting it is one thing. Knowing what’s best for the baby is another.”
“Right.”
“I appreciate you taking me here.”
“Hey, you’ve been with Tedmund for a long time. We’re practically family.”
I snorted.
“He never let me get close to anyone in his life.”
“That’s just Tedmund. Protective.”
My skin crawled hearing Tedmund described like that. His obsessive nature went beyond “protective”. He was controlling and even cruel.
“What did you want to talk to me about?”
“Tedmund might be in trouble. Hell, the entire team might be in trouble.”
“For what? Bar fights? Knocking up porn stars?”
Vance ignored my tone.
“No. Not for bar fights. Something worse.”
“Y’all didn’t kill nobody, right?”
“No. Nothing like that.”
“Then what?”
“The league suspects ‘the organization’ is involved. But if they are, someone on the team has broken contract. That’s a big deal.”
“None of these words make any sense to me.”
“Nevermind. You say Tedmund never spoke to you about this?”
“No. He didn’t. And Tedmund and I are over, so I can’t help you, anyway.”
“Too late. You’re here. You’re going to help.”
“How?”
“I need a key.”
I rolled my eyes.
“What key?”
“Tedmund’s key. The one he keeps on a gold chain around his neck.”
“The ugly ass brass thing?”
“That’s the one.”
“Yeah. He’s looking for it too.”
He had his hands around my neck because he thought I took it. Asshole!
Vance’s ears perked up.
“He can’t find it?”
“He thinks I have it.”
“Do you?”
“No. I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
“Your apartment?”
“Locked. If it’s in there—”
“When will they open it up?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Great. We’ll go tomorrow.”
“What about tonight?!”
“I’ve got a guest bedroom if you don’t mind staying. And uh… my sister visited from Baltimore last week and she might have some shoes you can borrow.”
“Cool. Thanks. Care to clue me in on what it is you’re looking for?”
“If you don’t know about the organization, it’s hard to explain.”
“Try me.”
“Gambling. Illegal gambling. There’s something big going on and coach is getting worried.”
“Why?”
“If it involves any of the team, the entire season could fall apart. The franchise could fall apart.”
“So what. Isn’t there fresh talent keeping it together?”
“It’s more complicated than that.”
“Fine. But Tedmund knows nothing about this. He can’t. Tedmund would never do anything illegal.”
“But you dumped him.”
I rolled my eyes.
“I dumped him because he’s an asshole who can’t keep his hands off me. He wouldn’t mess with his game. I know him.”
“Couldn’t keep his hands off you? You mean he hit you?”
“I don’t want to talk about that.”
“You brought it up.”
“Only because you brought up that I dumped him.”
He gave me a confused look, like he almost believed me but didn’t quite know what to think. By now, I was used to that. No one believed women. Ever. When a famous guy like Tedmund Sweeney hurt someone, women stood even less of a chance.
“Fine. If he isn’t involved, someone else on our team is and Tedmund knows who it is.”
“So what’s in the box then?”
“With the key?”
“Yup.”
“No idea.”
A sharp pain shot through my lower back. I groaned and hopped off the stool, taking deep breaths and pacing in Vance’s kitchen.
“How do you expect me to help you?”
“The key. I think it’s in your apartment. Tomorrow morning, we’ll go get it, then we’ll go to the box and open it, see what’s inside.”
“Maybe it’s in one of Tedmund’s side-pieces apartments.”
“No. I already thought of that.”
I scowled.
“Unbelievable.”
“What?”
“You knew. All you bastards knew.”
“About Tedmund?”
“Yes.”
“Weren’t you two in some kind of open relationship?”
“No! Do I look like an open relationship kind of girl?”
“You look pregnant out of wedlock to me.”
I could slap him across his sorry ass face. I didn’t care if Vance Tompkins was the hottest guy in the league. He could fuck right off with that crop of dirty blonde hair and those steely blue eyes. His chiseled jaw bone and cheek dimple didn’t have the same effect on me they had on other girls.
“Do you want me to help you, or not?”
“Help.”
“Then you need to help me. I need to get a new phone and a new purse before we head to my place tomorrow.”
“Sorted.”
“And you need to give me your phone so I can call Cynthea.”
“You’ll tell her you’re here?”
“No. I don’t want her to think I’m some kind of slut.”
“Whoa there. Strong language.”
“What? It’s what she’ll assume.”
“Fair point.”
He handed me his cell phone, and I called Cynthea, one of the few phone numbers that I knew from memory. I explained that I was visiting a friend in Malibu and explained that someone robbed me. Cynthea seemed concerned, but I could tell that she was already drunk. When I heard a man’s voice slurring into the phone, whispering something lewd into her ear, I hung up. Thanks a lot, Cynthea.
I turned my attention back to Vance, who towered over me as I leaned against the counter.
“Sorted?”
“Yup.”
“Good. Hungry?”
“Starving.”
“I don’t normally cook, but tonight, I will.”
“Can’t we just go out?”
“So your crazy ex will spot us together? No. We’ve got to keep this under the radar. You get it?”
“Got it.”
“Not even Cynthea.”
“She’s my best friend!”
“Seriously.”
“Fine. I won’t tell her. I still don’t understand what’s going on.”
“Let’s eat first. How do you like fried chicken?”
“Is that a race thing?”
“No! No. It’s just that pregnant women crave things. Like fried chicken.”
I doubted that his save was authentic, but I had to admit to myself that I had been craving fried chicken. And pizza. And anything starchy that would raise my personal trainer’s hackles if he’d heard about it.
“Yes. It sounds perfect.”
“French fries too?”
“With ketchup.”
Vance winked.
“Gotcha. Well, you relax here, or you can head up to the guest room if you’d like.”
“Got a shower in this place?”
“No, I don’t bathe.”
He paused for a beat and my mouth dropped.
“Geez, Karnysha, I’m joking. I can’t smell that bad, can I.”
I smiled awkwardly and excused myself as this seven foot tall white pro-ball player started making me fried chicken in his Malibu kitchen. Life can be so crazy. I stripped down and showered, enjoying the scorching water on my aching back. My nipples were still sore from rubbing against my shirt all day. As I searched through the guest bedroom closet, I found a pair of black yoga pants that were a little big for my skinny legs and then an oversized sweatshirt that smelled like Vance.
As I pulled the sweatshirt over my head, his scent rushed into my nostrils. I closed my eyes as I inhaled and then caught myself enjoying the remnants of his musk. My hand clasped to my mouth dramatically. Even if I was alone.
“Behave yourself, Karnysha,” I whispered.
Vance was attractive, light-haired and one inch taller than Tedmund. His eyes were a piercing shade of blue with flecks of darker blue spiraling out from the pupils. His sweatshirt engulfed me and the waistband sat loosely around my knees. I slipped into a pair of fresh white wool socks and bounded downstairs. I wrapped my hair in a high messy bun with a few wisps of long black hair framing my face.
As I walked into the kitchen, orange sunset poured in through the windows.
“Wow,” Vance said once he saw me enter.
“What? The sunset?”
“No. You. In that light. I don’t think I’ve ever seen skin so dark.”
“Oh…”
I didn’t know how to interpret his comment. Sentences that started that way ended in a backhanded compliment more often than not.
“It’s beautiful. I mean, it’s so dark it’s almost… purple.”
“Thanks.”
“Seriously. You have the most beautiful complexion I’ve ever seen.”
His compliment embarrassed me a little. I didn’t feel beautiful. Someone mugged me earlier that day. I was single. And the reality of facing Los Angeles as an ex-model and single mother didn’t exactly make me feel like Duchess Meghan.
“Thanks.”
“Here’s dinner. I rarely eat at the table, but today, I figured I’d make the effort.”
He sat across from me and didn’t wait to eat. All the players in the league had terrifying appetites, and Vance was no different. I dove in, using my fork and knife at first, too shy to dive in.
“Fork and knife? What is this, England?”
“No. I just — ”
“C’mon,” Vance insisted, “Go ham. Use your hands.”
I obliged him and starting picking at my check with my fingers. I found his food surprisingly good.
“Oh my goodness, this is amazing.”
“I know. I took classes.”
“Fried chicken classes?”
“No. A soul food class. Taught by Bee Wyndham. Can you believe it?”
“Like from TV?”
“Yup. She was back in LA last year. Got me on my A game.”
“I’m impressed.”
We kept eating, quiet for a few more minutes.
“Someone is collecting big bucks to throw games. That’s what this is all about,” he said, after a pronounced silence.
“On purpose?”
“Yup. There’s an organization in Vegas that runs the whole thing, supposedly. They’ve got a list of names, a little black book, and they know which guys will take the money and shut up and which won’t. It’s a network bigger than the Sundevils.”
“How could the Sundevils get involved with something like this? I mean, are you sure the team’s involved?”
“Maybe. There’s a big game over in Vegas in a couple days, which is why we’re back in LA. The organization responsible for all this has already called the game. Coach knows. A few teammates know. Aside from that, the whole thing is hush-hush. The league wants to get this under control before the public finds out.”
“And before anyone gets arrested.”
“Exactly. Just like the football players, we prefer to deal with our problems internally.”
“It sounds like a conspiracy theory.”
“That’s exactly what it is.”
“You don’t really believe Tedmund would throw games? He cares about basketball more than anything else.”
More than he ever cared about me. Or the life growing inside me that shared his DNA.
“I don’t know what to believe.”
“He’s your best friend, Vance.”
“He might have been my best friend. But do I really know him at all if I didn’t even know he laid hands on you?”
I assumed Vance would brush me off when I mentioned that. My cheeks warmed as he brought it up again.
“That’s unrelated.”
“It’s not. Any man that puts his hands on a woman deserves to have the shit kicked out of him.”
“Could’ve used some of that this morning,” I mumbled.
“He hit you again?”
“I never leave Tedmund’s place unscathed.”
Vance winced, and I took perverse enjoyment in watching him squirm. The men in the league, especially the Sundevils, considered themselves men of honor. Watching Vance’s perfect world where he and his boys were all nice, regular folks get shattered brought me pleasure. I’d been suffering in silence long enough.
“I never knew,” he mumbled.
I wondered if Vance knew how pathetic he sounded. Famous guys didn’t care about how their buddies treated women like me. Men didn’t care.
“Would you have done anything if you knew? He’s your best friend. He’s famous. Everyone around the country knows his name. I’m just a washed up model.”
“Washed up? Hell no.”
“I’m pregnant. I’ve gained weight. I haven’t done a shoot in years. In this town, I’m washed up.”
“Well fuck this town. There’s dark shit here. People here aren’t as perfect as they want you to think.”
“Amen to that.”
“Are you tired?”
“Yes.”
“We’ve got a long day tomorrow.”
“I still don’t know why you want me to help you.”
“Because. You’re smart. You know the game. You know the league. And I’ve heard a lot about you from Tedmund. If there’s something up with him, you’ll figure it out.”
“It’s not my job to save Tedmund’s ass for whatever trouble he’s in.”
“I know. But I owe him.”
“I thought you were done with him,” I scoffed.
“I am. Well, I will be. As long as I clear things up for him here. Then I’m done. Once I’ve paid my debt.”
“What could you possibly owe Tedmund for?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Okay. Whatever.”
He grinned, flashing that heart-melting dimple at me as he gestured toward my half-finished plate.
“Enjoy the food?”
“It’s great.”
“Good.”
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK. A loud, aggressive knock on Vance’s front door startled both of us.
“Yo Vance! Vance!”
I knew that voice.
BANG. BANG. BANG.
I gasped, my hand clasped over my mouth. Vance gestured to his bedroom and mouthed.
“Go.”
I left my plate at the dinner table and raced into Vance’s bedroom, slamming the door shut and twisting the lock. I searched for a place I could hide, in case Vance was unsuccessful and weaseled my way into Vance’s walk-in closet. I padded along the penthouse carpet and pressed my back up against the wall. The warm scent of leather soothed me as I stared up at walls and walls of expensive, brand new basketball shoes and leather loafers.
I clutched my knees to my chest and listened to the muffled voices outside…
* * *
Don’t Wait.
Click here to pre-order the story.
**This story was previously published under a different title, Black Bride, White Baller. Over 10k words have been added and serious edits to the story to update it for a current readership.**