“Carmyn, it might be too late. I live for the boy. As soon as you leave, I’ll call or text him and spend the rest of the day in bed with him.”
“I guess I should say I’m happy for you,” I said.
“Thank you. But what about you? When are we going to find someone for you?”
“I’m fine, Lowell. Maybe I’ll start dating when Brady goes to the league,” I said, giving my standard reply.
“So how much in love were you with Brady’s father?”
“I don’t want to talk about that,” I said quickly. Suddenly I didn’t feel giddy, as memories I had tried to erase entered my mind. They must have shown on my face, because Lowell took my hands and said, “Carmyn, you can trust me. What really happened between you and Brady’s father?”
Maybe it was the champagne, but I looked into Lowell’s eyes and they looked like a safe place to leave some things I had tried to forget.
I took a deep breath. “It’s a long story,” I began. “A twenty-year-old story. It started when I enrolled at the University of Texas.”
Lowell frowned. “I thought you graduated from Clark. I never knew you even lived in Texas.”
“I told you a lot of things. Now I’m going to tell you the truth. My name is really Carmyn Johnson, but I was known by my childhood nickname, Niecey, until I had Brady.
“I went to the University of Texas in 1987, but left after…” I paused, wondering if I could really say the words aloud. “When I was a freshman, I was…I went to a party…had a few drinks.” I stopped, not able to go on.
Lowell chuckled. “Girl, everyone has a night or two like that in college. You don’t have anything to be ashamed of. Hell, I can tell you stories that are a lot worse.”
I shook my head. “Nothing’s worse than what happened to me. Nothing’s worse than what I let happen to myself that night.” I sank in the chair and faced Lowell, although my mind took my eyes away, back to that time, back to a night I had tried to pretend never happened.
“My boyfriend was a star football player for UT, and he invited me to the party for the prospective high school recruits. I didn’t even want to go, but I wanted to please…Woodson.” It was the first time I’d said his name aloud in more than two decades.
“At the party, I drank a little, smoked a little. I wasn’t trying to get drunk or high. I’m the daughter of a preacher. I had lived a sheltered life, and I just wanted to have a good time. I wanted to fit in, be popular and make my boyfriend proud of me. I don’t remember much about the party, but I remember everything afterwards,” I said as tears formed in my eyes.
I continued unfolding the story as it glided from my memory: how I’d awakened in a room not knowing where I was, Woodson finding me naked, and then the smear campaign that Daphne, Woodson’s former girlfriend, launched, and then the letter from Woodson that drove me from campus, back to my parents and Houston.
“Didn’t your parents want to know why you came home?” Lowell asked.
“I told them I didn’t like going to a big white school like UT.”
“Didn’t you have friends you could talk to?”
“No, not really,” I responded. “Can you believe that Daphne called me the other day after all these years?”
“What did she want?”
“I didn’t talk to her long enough to find out. I just hung up,” I said.
“Good for you,” Lowell said. “This Daphne sounds like a playa-hating bitch. Women can be so evil towards each other. But look at you now. You’ve done so well for yourself and Brady. I envy the relationship you two have.”
Every time Lowell said my son’s name, my tears returned. “I haven’t told you the real story yet.” I took a breath. “I’d been in Houston about a month when I suspected that I was pregnant. Shortly after that, my family doctor confirmed that I was, and two months later my parents had me on a plane to Atlanta, so I could have the baby without anyone finding out.
“My parents were mortified. I couldn’t answer any of their questions. They assumed that Woodson was the father. I couldn’t tell them what happened. I couldn’t tell them who the father was, because I didn’t know. They looked at me with such disgust and disdain in their eyes and then told me I needed to disappear faster than ice in a hot drink. As a prominent minister, my father couldn’t have a pregnant unmarried daughter. My mother was so embarrassed that she wouldn’t speak to me, so she sent me a letter.
“But they were good Christians.” I chuckled bitterly. “After a few days of tears from my mother and silence from my father, they told me they forgave me and that one day God would forgive me. And then they sprang into action. Abortion was never an option, but after some research, my mother found the Pure Life Home. It was a Christian home for girls in my situation.”
“I can’t believe your parents sent you away. That sounds like some shit from the fifties.”
I nodded. “I cried every day for the first month I was there, but then I had to get on about the business of finding the perfect family for my baby.”
“You were going to give Brady up?”
I nodded. “At Pure Life, that’s what you’re supposed to do. That’s why my parents sent me there. The plan was for me to have the baby, give it up for adoption, and then return to Houston as if I’d just been away at school. I agreed. I was just eighteen. What was I supposed to do with a baby?
“Pure Life introduced me to five families, and I met an African American couple, Rex and Sophie Maddie. Both of the Maddies had Ph.D.s, and I was impressed with the beautiful home they had just built in an exclusive gated community. I knew they would treat my baby well, because Sophie couldn’t have children and they wanted a baby so badly. I was six months pregnant when I met the Maddies, and for the rest of my pregnancy, they treated me like their daughter. They took me out to dinner, took me shopping; I even spent a couple of weekends in their new home. And they were different from my parents. There was never any shame in their eyes when they looked at me. All I ever felt from them was love. They thought I was a blessing.
“Sophie even encouraged me to write a letter to my baby explaining that I loved him but that I wanted him to have a better life.
“Sophie was in the delivery room when Brady was born. But I wasn’t prepared for what happened next. When my baby was delivered, the plan was to take him out of the room right away. But I begged them to let me see him, let me hold him so that I could say good-bye. And although they hesitated, the nurse handed me the baby.” I paused. “And I never let go. I felt such an immediate and intense love for him.”
“You kept…Brady.”
I nodded. “It was so hard. He was my reason for breathing. Sophie cried, and Rex threatened to sue me for all the money they’d spent. For days I pleaded with them to understand, but all they could feel was their own pain. Sophie told me that I might as well have snatched her heart from her. I cried for them, but I just couldn’t give my baby away.”
I smiled. “I held my baby’s hand. I counted his toes and his fingers. And when he looked at me and stopped crying, he took my breath and filled my heart with love. I couldn’t give him up.
“The nurses were happy for me. They asked me what I was going to name him. I hadn’t considered any names, but I looked up at the television and The Brady Bunch was on. I always loved that show. I had registered at the hospital as Carmyn Bledsoe, using my mother’s maiden name, and I liked the way Brady Bledsoe sounded. Also, by keeping my mother’s maiden name I didn’t totally lose my identity. That day, Niecey Johnson left the building.”
Lowell exhaled a long breath. “I know your parents probably went crazy.”
“That’s one way of putting it. They tried to force me to change my mind, but when I didn’t, they told me I couldn’t come home. My preacher father and my mother, the first lady, told me to stay out of Houston so I wouldn’t embarrass them. They told me they would welcome me back with open arms if I ever gave up my baby.
“I was in shock. I was a teenager, on my own, livin
g in Atlanta, a city I didn’t know. But it didn’t matter. I kept Brady and made a life for both of us. I did get some help with diapers, formula, and other items from an organization called Brandon’s Room that was started by a young woman who gave up her son but then regretted her decision and didn’t have money for a lawyer to get him back. I’m still so grateful for the help I received that every year I send the organization a donation.”
Lowell leaned forward and took my hand. “You made a wonderful life for you and Brady. You did what you had to do, but I think you should tell Brady.”
“What? He might start to hate me. No, I can’t do that.”
“So you did send back those letters from the University of Texas,” Lowell said.
“What could I do? Brady couldn’t end up at the place where I ruined my life. I couldn’t let that happen to my baby or to me. I sent back every one of those letters.”
CHAPTER
19
Brady Takes on Bama
I walked into Coach Hale’s office and noticed a strained look on his face. I knew the coaches were worried about the upcoming game against the University of Alabama, but Coach Hale never let the players see his concern. But when he asked me to come by his office after practice, there was something different in his voice. At first I thought this might be about Chloe, but Lowell assured me he’d taken care of that.
“Coach, you said you needed to see me,” I said as I walked into the massive office overlooking the end zone of the practice field.
“Come in, Brady, have a seat,” Coach Hale replied as he took off his baseball hat, revealing the receding hairline that the players often teased him about.
“Thanks, Coach,” I said. I took a seat in one of the office’s green leather chairs with a gold jaguar head emblazoned on the back.
“Great practice today, Brady,” Coach Hale said. “I can’t tell you what it means to see a senior everybody’s saying might be the best player in the country going full out in practice. It sets such a good example for the younger players. And those early-morning workouts you mandated are really helping, with our players still being fresh in the fourth quarter.”
“Thank you, Coach. I’m just doing what I do,” I said, thinking that the coach hadn’t called a private meeting to compliment me on something that I did all the time.
“So how’s your mother?”
“She’s fine. She’ll be in Tuscaloosa this weekend,” I replied.
“Good. Good. We need all the fans we can get in that place.”
“My mom never misses any of my games,” I said proudly.
“I know, Brady. You’re so lucky to come from good stock. I knew that when I recruited you. Good stock. I wish all of my players were like you, but I understand they can’t be. Not everyone’s as fortunate as you, Bledsoe. I think the NCAA should relax the rules and pay the young athletes who need money so they won’t be forced to do things that are against the rules, like take money from boosters and agents.”
“Yeah, Coach, I’m blessed,” I said.
“How are you handling the agents?”
“I’m not, Coach, but my mom is. She’ll know what to do.”
“Great, Bledsoe. I did tell one agent, Basil Henderson from XJI, that I would give him his props when it came to you. He’s a great agent, and he’s done right by some of my players who signed with him.”
“My mom has already talked to him,” I said.
“Good to hear. Henderson follows the rules.”
After a few nervous moments, I asked Coach if that was all he needed. The coach stared at me silently, then asked if I would shoot straight with him about one of my teammates.
“Sure, Coach.”
“How are things at home?”
I was puzzled. He had already asked about my mother. What home was he talking about?
“Home? You mean in Atlanta?”
“No, I’m sorry, Brady. I mean here on campus. You and Delmar getting along okay?”
“No doubt—Delmar is my boi. We get along fine. Why do you ask?”
“I don’t know any other way to put it, but I have been hearing some rumors that are bothering me. I know it might just be gossip, but we are not talking about a sorority here, we’re talking about a football team. Men. You understand what I’m saying, Bledsoe?”
“I don’t think so, Coach. What are you talking about?”
“Damn, I’m just going to flat out ask you. Is Delmar dealing drugs?”
“What? No, Coach. Delmar wouldn’t do anything like that. Who told you that?” I asked.
“We don’t have proof positive, but several of the coaches and even a couple of the trainers have been noticing that he has changed his wardrobe, started wearing better clothes. Then we heard from a couple other guys that he has been picking up the tab at victory celebrations for his teammates, paying for strippers and stuff.”
I had noticed the extra money Delmar seemed to have, but I figured it was coming from his summer job. But what kind of job did he have in the summer? He didn’t say, but I knew he’d gone to several smaller cities in Georgia. I couldn’t imagine Delmar doing anything illegal to earn money.
“Coach, I don’t believe Delmar would do something like that, and I haven’t seen any evidence in our apartment.”
The coach asked me if we had a lot of visitors and also what had happened to Delmar’s baby’s mother. He went on to tell me that in previous years they had received calls all the time from his ex-girlfriend, complaining that Delmar wasn’t paying his child support, but that the calls had recently stopped.
“Is that girl still alive? You don’t think he’s gotten rid of her, do you?” Coach Hale asked.
“Come on now, Coach. This is Delmar you’re talking about. He wouldn’t harm a flea. He’s all talk,” I said. “Besides, he’s always on the phone with her trying to get her to bring his son to games, so I know she’s still around.”
“Do you think he’s taking money from an agent?”
“I doubt that. We’re not talking to any agents yet,” I said, knowing that was totally true.
“Yeah, but you’re a straight shooter, Brady,” Coach Hale said. “They know better than to offer you any money, but some of these agents have no morals, like the guy your mother had to report to the NCAA.”
“Yeah, Nico Benson. But I’m just trying to play by the rules, Coach,” I said.
“You guys represent the University and should be paid. Think about all that money we get from the conference and bowl games. It’s just not fair,” Coach Hale said.
“Maybe it will change some day. I know all my teammates aren’t as blessed as me. Do you want me ask Delmar where all the money is coming from?”
“No, don’t do that. Hopefully, you’re right and Delmar wouldn’t be foolish enough to jeopardize his career. Both of you boys will be playing on Sunday. Just keep your eyes open, son.”
“I will, Coach,” I said as an image of Delmar drinking that expensive Champagne entered my mind. As I walked out of the office, I wondered if my best friend would risk everything for some quick cash.
CHAPTER
20
Barrett Gets Something to Cheer About
Barrett was getting ready to walk into the complex for cheer practice, and felt her cell phone vibrate. She looked at the name on the tiny screen and decided to take the call. Some of the female squad members walked by, engaged in conversation and acting like they didn’t see her. Before answering, Barrett muttered, “Bitches,” and turned around, facing the parking lot so she wouldn’t have to see any of them until she joined them for their two-mile run before practice.
“Hey,” Barrett said.
“Are you sitting down?” the familiar male voice said.
“Actually, I’m standing up,” Barrett said.
“I’ve got some startling news which might help our cause, but you’ve got to act on this right away. First of all, you’re not going to believe this. Maybe I should catch a flight down and tell you in person. I would love
to see your face when I tell you.”
“Don’t do that to me. Tell me,” Barrett demanded.
“Okay. Well, it seems like Mother Bledsoe was a little slut puppy back in the day. Got herself knocked up with your boy while entertaining the football troops. She doesn’t have a clue who her baby’s daddy is,” he said, laughing.
“What? Brady’s father is dead,” Barrett said.
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”
“How did you find out?”
“From the horse’s mouth. You see, I’m thorough, baby, and I always cover all the bases, and I had a backup plan just in case your feminine power couldn’t close the deal. You know I hire some good-looking guys who are just big-time freaks in case I’m trying to sign some faggot mofo. You’d be surprised how many of them there are in the league,” he said.
“I’m sure Brady isn’t gay, so what are you talking about?” Barrett asked.
“I’ll explain that later, but this is what happened. It seems like Brady’s mother had a ‘come to Jesus’ moment and shared her deep, dark secret with her best friend, that faggot professor who’s Brady’s godfather.”
“So what do you want me to do?”
“You have to tell him.”
“How can I do that without connecting you to this?”
“If you use the right acting skills, which means your I-hate-to-do-this-but-I’m-really-concerned act, I think it will send him over the edge.”
“Do you have any more details, just in case he doesn’t believe me?”
“Sure. Ask him if he ever met his grandparents.”
“I’ve never heard him mention grandparents.”
“Right, because his mother never told him about them and it seems the good preacher and his wife disowned their daughter the tramp.”
“This is too wild. I guess that bitch of a mother is going to be sorry she turned her nose up at me,” Barrett said as she noticed Frank, one of the male cheerleaders, running toward the door. Barrett knew she was at least ten minutes late for practice, since Frank was always late—so late that the squad members took bets on when he would show.
Just Too Good to Be True Page 18