Bad Ballers: A Contemporary Sports Romance Box Set

by Bishop, S. J.

  During the last few weeks, it had been easier to keep my mind occupied. Last week, we’d had the NFL draft, and the Pats had picked up a few interesting guys. Coach had me scheduled all week, working with rookies and helping to plan the mini-camp before the whole team met for preseason work. When I wasn’t in meetings, I was at the gym or at the trainers. I found that the busier I was, the less I had to think about the Brown sisters.

  I’d not been looking forward to today. It’s hard to ignore the Brown sisters when one of them is in your face, dividing your life in half.

  But I needn’t have been so anxious. Seeing Becca again wasn’t as hard as I’d thought it was going to be. She looked incredible and had dressed for the meeting in a pencil skirt, blouse, and high heels. I’d seen a lot of her and Gil in the magazines lately. I’d seen a lot of myself, too. The magazines had taken my beard as a sign of depression. Really, it was a sign of freedom. Becca hadn’t liked me wearing a beard.

  The asset separation went smoothly. We both made comparable amounts of money, so nobody owed anybody alimony; we had no kids and no animals, so there was no nasty custody dispute. Becca was willing to sell me her half of the house if I wanted it. She planned on moving out to New York, or maybe even LA, to be closer to her new beau. In the end, we decided to sell the house and split the earnings.

  “That was well done, I think,” said Becca, approaching me after the lawyers had left the room.

  “I’m glad about it,” I said. We’d split everything. There was nothing else for us to talk about. For the first time in months, I felt warmly toward my ex-wife. I’d always been enamored of Becca. She was smart, beautiful, and resourceful. While she was completely insensitive most of the time, and could often be a real bitch, I’d loved her.

  “Do you want to grab lunch?” she asked me, clearly on the same page as I was. “I’d love to hear how you’re doing.”

  We went to a bistro nearby and received quite a few looks from the other diners. I knew our photos would appear on social media later, but I didn’t care. Maybe if we looked cordial enough, people would stop speculating that Becca had divorced me so that she could start dating Gil. Had she? I didn’t want to know. It didn’t matter.

  We both ordered salads, and Becca asked me questions about my upcoming season and about some of our new pickups. “I’m going to miss going to the games,” she said.

  I returned her polite question about the season by asking after her family. I realized I was holding my breath and forced myself to exhale.

  “They’re fine,” she said. “I met my dad’s new girlfriend.”

  “Irina?” I said, trying to remember the Jazz singer’s name.

  “Irena,” she corrected. “Yes. She was okay. I think he can do better.” Becca and Annie had always worshipped their father. I’d never understood that. Mr. Brown was fiercely intelligent and epically patient, but he had the need to be the smartest man in every room.

  “And your mom?”

  “Dating around,” said Becca. “She almost came to DC when I was there last week! What a nightmare that would have been.”

  “What were you in DC for?”

  “The WWF gala and a speech to congress on their behalf,” said Becca, casually.

  “Did you see your sister while you were there?”

  I hadn’t spoken to Annie in over a month, not since she’d asked me to leave her hotel room. To be honest, I still didn’t know what I wanted from her. Until I figured it out, I was going to stay away.

  “Yes. She’s doing okay. Actually, I’ve got a little bet going with myself on Annie’s behalf. I keep checking my phone to see if she’s left me a message.”

  I didn’t even know what question to ask, but I didn’t need to. Becca continued, unprompted.

  “She claims she isn’t, but I’ve got great intuition about these things. I think she’s pregnant.”

  The food I’d just swallowed threatened to come back up. “What?” I tried to keep the panic out of my voice.

  “We went out for French food, and she didn’t drink or touch the seafood. And Annie loves nothing more than a buttery scallop and a glass of Pinot. She must be pregnant.”

  “Maybe she just wasn’t in the mood for seafood.”

  “Nope,” said Becca. “I’ve bet myself a new Birkin that I’m going to be an aunt in less than nine months.”

  No. There was no way. No way Annie was pregnant.

  But you didn’t use a condom.

  But she was on the pill!

  The pill is not infallible. Did you ever see her take it?

  “Whoa, your face just went scary. Are you okay?”

  Becca peered at me, concerned, and I forced my shoulders to relax and forced my jaw muscles to unclench. “Yeah, sorry – I’m just, not really over this,” I waved my hand between us. That was the truth at least. “Hearing that your sister might be pregnant just reminds me that we aren’t ever going to be.”

  Becca pressed her lips together in disapproval of the topic.

  “Not guilt tripping you,” I said. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

  “No,” said Becca. “It doesn’t.”

  I had a dozen more questions to ask about Annie, but I knew I couldn’t. Becca might be wrong. There was no reason to suspect Annie was pregnant. There was no reason to suspect it was mine. For all I knew, Annie and that Pete character had been sleeping together and the baby was his.

  That thought made me sick to my stomach.

  19

  Anne

  I didn’t think it was possible to be more tired.

  I smiled and waved as the last parent exited my classroom. At this point in the evening, that smile was forced. There were only so many times you could be subtly insulted within the space of a few hours. Parent/Teacher conferences were the worst. I had yet to get through one without some parent trying to argue a grade with me.

  “Ms. Brown?”said someone, angrily.

  I looked up, startled, and was relieved to see Abe standing in my doorway, doing his best stern father impression.

  “Mr. Kraus,” I intoned in my best reprimanding mother voice. Abe’s eyes lifted heavenward, his lips twitching with amusement.

  “Did you not get my SOS text?” he asked as he slid into my room and closed the door behind him.

  “No,” I said, shortly. I’d dropped my phone into the Potomac during practice – a terrible start to an epically horrible day. “My phone is swimming with the fishes.”

  “Another one bites the dust,” said Abe. “That’s phone number three?”

  “No. It’s only the second one.”

  “My mistake. Well, anyway, my brother is staying in my place, and if I have to spend one more night with him, I’m going to commit homicide. So, I’m sleeping on your couch tonight.”

  “That’s fine,” I said. I could use the company. I hadn’t yet told anyone about my pregnancy, and I’d just passed the two-month mark. The whole thing was terrifying. I’d spent at least two weeks desperately trying to figure out what I was going to do. Though I’d been upset at first, I wanted the baby. Badly. But the practical implications of being a single mother were staggering. Supporting a child on a teaching salary was going to be difficult. And what would I do when people asked who the father was?

  I was desperate for someone to talk to. Why not finish a horrible day with a difficult conversation? Abe would come back to my place, and I would rip the duct tape off the wound that was my life.

  Abe and I walked home together, comparing notes about parent/teacher conferences. Abe’s had actually sounded a bit worse than mine, and we both agreed that Isla Sheering’s parents were the absolute worst humans we’d ever encountered.

  “Did one of your neighbors get locked out?” asked Abe as we neared my building. A dark figure was moving back and forth on the deck, shadowed by the porch lights. I didn’t need to see his face to know who it was. I knew that prowl anywhere. I’d watched enough close football games to recognize an anxious, pacing Dash Barnes.


  “Shit,” I said. “Shit. Shit.” I stopped walking and slid into the shadows of a nearby store.

  “What?” asked Abe, following me.

  “That’s Dash.”

  “As in Dash Barnes?” asked Abe, his black brows raising in disbelief. He took another look down the street. “What is he doing at your place? Were you expecting him?”

  I shook my head.

  Abe stared at me a moment and shook his in response. “What is it you’re not telling me, Annabelle Lee?”

  I covered my hands with my face. “That I’m pregnant with Dash’s baby, and he doesn’t know it,” I said.

  Silence.

  “That’s a joke, right?” Abe’s voice was deadpan.

  I shook my head and felt Abe’s hand pry mine from my face. His aqua eyes stared into mine. “Annie, are you serious?”

  “Yes. I’m serious.”

  Abe stared me down a moment and then looked up toward the night sky, as if asking God for divine inspiration on how to deal with me. “Okay,” he said, after a moment. “Do you think Dash knows?”

  “I don’t know what he knows or doesn’t know, but he’s right there,” I said, slightly hysterical. I was close to crying. What if he was at my doorstep because he’d finally figured out what he wanted from me? Had he been thinking about what I’d said at all? I hadn’t heard from him, not for a month.

  “Are you going to tell him?”

  “I have no idea. I have no idea. I can’t do this…”

  Abe looked at me seriously. “Do you want to go back to my place?”

  And leave Dash pacing on my front stoop? How long had he been there? God, he must have texted me. He must be furious that I hadn’t responded. Why was he here?

  “No,” I said, after a moment. “But will you walk up with me?”

  “Of course,” said Abe, and he waited for me to gather myself and stroll out into the street.

  Dash spotted us when we were just a few houses away, and he stopped pacing, his eyes landing on Abe with an intensity that wasn’t at all friendly. If he’d been jealous of Pete, he was bound to be jealous of Abe, who was much better looking.

  “What the hell, Annie?” Dash’s voice split the air, and I felt Abe start next to me. “Why don’t you ever answer your goddamn phone?”

  I took a deep breath, his anger fueling mine. It was easier to deal with Dash when I was angry. “I dropped my phone in the river this morning,” I said, keeping my voice even. “I wasn’t expecting to see you.”

  I could see Dash trying to calm himself. He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. He was still sporting that beard he’d been wearing when I’d seen him in Boston.

  Beside me, I could feel Abe taking Dash’s measure.

  “I need to talk to you,” said Dash, after a minute. “Alone.”

  “I’m not so sure I’m comfortable leaving Anne with you,” said Abe. “You’re a big boy, you seem agitated, and I don’t know you.”

  Dash fixed Abe with his most intimidating stare, and I saw Abe’s shoulders stiffen in resolve. “I don’t know you either,” said Dash, his voice low and dangerous.

  “This is Abe,” I said. “Abe, this is Dash, my sister’s ex-husband.”

  I watched as Dash recognized Abe’s name from the some of stories I’d told him over the years. His shoulders relaxed marginally. Abe’s didn’t.

  “Sorry,” said Dash after a moment. “I’ve been trying to reach Annie for the last six hours.”

  I shrugged, helplessly. I hadn’t known.

  “Do you want me to stay?” asked Abe, turning to me but raising his voice so that Dash could hear.

  “To keep me from doing anything stupid?” I said under my breath. Abe didn’t smile. Instead, he handed me his phone. “I’m going straight home. I’ll use my brother’s phone. His number is programmed into mine. If you need me, you call me, okay?”

  “I’ll be fine,” I said. “Dash isn’t dangerous.”

  “Just because he’s not dangerous doesn’t mean you’ll be fine. Call my brother when you need me, okay?”

  “Okay.” Abe glanced back at Dash once more. Based on Dash’s surprised expression, I knew Abe must have delivered some kind of silent warning. Turning, Abe strolled off down the street.

  Dash and I stood staring at each other for a moment. “So? Can we talk?” Dash snapped. Now that Abe was gone, he was back to sounding impatient.

  “I don’t know, can you calm down?” I snapped back. “Because I’m not so sure I want to be alone in a room with you right now.”

  Dash gripped the deck’s iron railing. “I’m calm,” he said.

  Sure he was. But curiosity got the better of me. I tugged my keys out of my purse, and we headed upstairs.

  This isn’t about the baby. I told myself. How would he know about that? You haven’t told anyone. This is about Boston, about you asking him ‘what he wants.’ But why was he so angry?

  In my apartment, Dash moved ahead of me, striding from the living room to the kitchen. “Goddamn it,” he said after a moment. “How do you live in a place this tiny?”

  I blinked. “DC is expensive,” I said. “Are you telling me you came here to talk about my apartment?”

  “I talked to your sister.”

  My heart sank. “You told Becca about us?” My voice came out hoarse.

  Dash looked incredulous. “Of course not!”

  Oh, thank god. I sank into one of my kitchen chairs. And then stared at him. So then, what was this about?

  “You’re pregnant.”

  Fuck. “Did Becca tell you that?”

  “She said you denied it.”

  “I did deny it.”

  “So she’s mistaken?” It was clear he didn’t believe that she was mistaken.

  Shit. What was I supposed to do? Did I lie to him? Could I tell him the truth?

  I knew that, more than anything, Dash wanted a family. And it was because of that want that I hadn’t yet told him about the pregnancy. I’d thought it through, and there were several truths that I couldn’t escape:

  1) I still loved Dash.

  2) I wanted a family, too – and I was almost thirty! This might be my only chance to have one.

  3) This would ruin my relationship with my sister, with my mother, maybe even with my father. This would impact my status as a teacher. It would be in all the tabloids.

  4) Dash would feel responsible and would try to have a relationship with me. It wouldn’t be because he loved me or because he thought we might work. It would be because he felt responsible.

  “Shit.”

  My silence, apparently, had spoken for me. I stared up at Dash as he processed what I wasn’t saying. “And it’s mine.”

  “I never slept with Pete,” I said.

  It was Dash’s turn to sit down. The starch seemed to leave his body entirely, and he all but fell onto the arm of my couch.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” he demanded after a moment. “Where you even going to tell me?” Anger turned the question into an accusation.

  I shook my head. “No,” I said. “I wasn’t going to.”

  “Annie, why the hell…”

  “Because what are we going to do, Dash!?” I said, my voice rising. “Raise it together? Tell the entire world that you got your ex-wife’s sister pregnant the week your divorce went through?” It was my turn to start pacing.

  “That’s not a reason not to tell me!” said Dash. “Goddamn it, Annie, to hear it from your sister!”

  “I didn’t tell her. She guessed!”

  “Are you keeping it?” Dash continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “And what if you’re not keeping it!? Would you have aborted my child without saying a thing to me?”

  I whirled on him, anger turning my hands into fists. “How the fuck are you managing to make this all about you!?” I asked, furious. “Jesus Christ, Dash, you must be the most egotistical person I know! I’m the one who’s having my sister’s ex-husband’s baby. And, oh yeah, the father of my lov
e-child just happens to be the most famous quarterback in all of football! The media’s going to have a field day! My students will know... my whole life is about to change, and all you can do is think about yourself!?”

  My last few words were shouted so loud that they seemed to vibrate against the narrow walls of my living room. Anger, fear, and a whole host of nameless emotions were riding me. I stood up and slammed the kitchen chair with my foot, sending it crashing into the door.

  20

  Dash

  As the chair hit the door, both of us froze. Annie’s eyes were wild. Her hands were fists at her side, and she seemed to be having an internal battle. She was staring at the floor and breathing hard.

  I tried to focus on her words. I tried to calm down, myself. Angry Annie was turning me on something fierce, and the absolute worst thing I could do right was act on it. So I sat there, trying to focus my mind on something innocuous.

  It was hard to calm down. Upon leaving my lunch with Becca, I must have called Annie twelve times and left half a dozen messages. Then I’d booked a flight. I’d called her again and again, and with each call, I’d gotten more and more angry. I was sure she’d been avoiding me.

  It was hard to calm down now, but I tried to be rational. I tried to think about how she must be feeling… but it was hard.

  Minutes of silence dragged on between us. At one point, Annie walked over, righted the chair, and sat in it, facing me. But she stared at the floor. I wanted to haul her into my arms, shake her, and kiss her until she came to her senses. Of course she wasn’t getting rid of the baby. Of course she was going to have it, and we’d raise it together.

  The knowledge swept over me suddenly. Of course we’d raise it together. More than anything, I wanted a family. And now, here was Annie, pregnant with my child. I was closer to that dream than I’d ever been while married to Becca.

  I took a deep breath. “Can I suggest something?” I said.