First and Ten

by Michel Prince

  “Is that Rome?” Dalton’s voice carried over the phone’s speaker. “Because you need to know right now he doesn’t play when it comes to his soda.”

  “I’ll send you the address of the store once I get everything set up,” Dani said as she held her hand up to keep Rome silent. “Congrats again, it’s a big thing.”

  “Can you explain to me why I’ve crafted this hard ass persona and now I need to change it?”

  “No,” Dani said honestly. “But I’ll make some inquiries and get back to you.”

  “Thanks. Paul isn’t telling me anything.”

  Dani hung up, started going through her text messages, and sat with one leg under the other at the top of Rome’s bed.

  “So I guess we’re done,” Rome said as he looked at her, still standing.

  “Huh?” she asked as she looked up at him, then back to the message from a socialite in crisis.

  “Put down the phone, Dani.”

  “You’re lucky I didn’t hear it when we were having sex,” she said flippantly. “It’s not Tuesday. I need to work.”

  “But—”

  “You’re right,” she said, setting the phone down for a moment. “I should go. This Dalton thing will take me half the night to get coordinated.” Hopping up, she went over to Rome and gave him a light kiss as her hand rested on his abs. “This sucks.”

  “You’re leaving?”

  “My laptop’s in my car but I doubt you want me crashing on your bed making phone calls and instant messaging people all night. I’ll just call people on my way home. No biggie. You see where my shoes went?”

  “No.”

  “Oh.” Dani searched the room, finding the shoes under a pillow that had been tossed at some point. “So we good?”

  “I don’t know what the hell we are,” Rome said, still looking a bit befuddled.

  “I’m sorry, it’s just, see I don’t want to live at home and the only way I can get out on my own is to build my business.”

  “Yet you’re not taking on new clients,” Rome accused. “Because you wouldn’t take me on as a client.”

  “I can’t now. And well.” Dani stood there, exposed in just a button down blouse that fell just low enough to cover her. She chewed on her bottom lip and looked up at Jerome Speed getting the same rush she had the first time she laid eyes on him. Only this time he wasn’t sporting a tacky suit. Now he was standing naked with a gold towel hugging his hips with his hands together and his lips pursed. “Honestly, I knew I wanted to sleep with you the second I saw old whorezilla brushing fake lint off your shoulder.”

  Rome’s hands dropped to his side as a broad smile lit up his face. “Did you now?”

  “Yes, okay, and I couldn’t take you on if any part of me wanted to…well take you on in other ways. Trust me, the last thing I wanted to do was turn you down as a client. Even with finals around the corner, I would have loved the commission from you this summer.”

  “Well we’ve done it, you want me to be your client now?”

  “Yeah, see that won’t work.” She smiled and stood on her tiptoes and took his face in her hands to bring him down for a good long kiss. “I can get over physical attraction easily. And if you would have been a moron or a conceded asshole, I could have totally taken you on as a client, but no.”

  Rome reached up and took the phone that was pressed to his face since it was still in her hand and tossed it on the bed.

  “I need that.”

  “Well, if we’re gonna be talking about needs, I have a couple left.”

  “Where exactly are you heading off to?” Dalton asked as they were getting dressed after practice a few weeks later.

  “When did we start fucking?” Rome joked as he buttoned up his shirt.

  “I’ve noticed a trend over the last few weeks with you.” Dalton pulled his t-shirt over his massive six-ten frame. “On Tuesdays you dress up.”

  “Jealous they don’t make this shirt in ogre size?” Rome fussed with the cuffs before snatching a tie that was hanging on a hook in his locker.

  “I know a certain woman who doesn’t pick up her phone on Tuesdays.”

  “Your point.”

  “My point is this woman keeps said phone on her twenty-four seven and yet a few weeks ago I couldn’t reach her for a significant amount of time.”

  “Who gave you the word a day calendar?”

  “Are you a client of Danika Albright, Mr. Speed?” Dalton asked as he held an imaginary microphone in front of him.

  “No, I am not,” Rome replied with a smirk as he held in the fact that she doesn’t sleep with clients.

  Bringing the fake mic back to him, Dalton continued his probing questions. “Now what other reason would have said Danika Albright, multitalented, sexy as hell stylist to the stars—”

  “And in your case, burnt out meteors.”

  “Have to be in your house?” Dalton thrust his hand in front of Rome’s face.

  “Who said she was in my house?”

  “Come on, no one’s paying attention to us, are you hittin’ that?”

  Rome looked over his left shoulder, then his right. For once Dalton wasn’t pretending. The locker room was a ghost town. How long had he taken in that shower? “When did you turn into a twelve-year-old-girl?”

  “Girls don’t ask that.”

  “Gossiping dumb ass,” Rome lowered his voice for the few stragglers. “Look, we’ve been seeing each other, okay.”

  “That’s such bullshit. I’ve been trying to get in that forever. Tell the truth? You think it’s my size?” Dalton smoothed down his shirt.

  “Maybe it’s because you refer to her as that.”

  “Just tell me one thing,” he began.

  “Not with her.”

  “That’s fucked up. My job is to make you look good and you can’t even tell me if I’d been wasting my dirty thoughts on her.”

  “Let’s not talk about the fantasies you have, it will extend your life expectancy by a few decades.”

  “Holy shit,” Dalton yelled then put his hands around his mouth to make it a bullhorn as if he needed any help. “Jerome Speed is pussy whipped.”

  “Wow, you’re twelve.” Rome slapped Dalton upside his head. “I’m going now to have an adult conversation with an adult.”

  “You know she’s like barely twenty.”

  “Twenty-six has her closer to the thirty then twenty.”

  “Damn, I thought it was black that don’t crack. I need to get on Dani’s skin regime.”

  It had been decided that any relationship between Rome and Dani would have to be limited. Neither wanted it that way, but he was just hitting his last few days of freedom before camps started and she had finals coming up in a few weeks when they had met. Timing was a son-of-a-bitch. Followed by her finding a new place to live. Had it not been for Candace, Rome would have offered up his bed if for no other reason than to wake up next to Dani each morning. Candace hadn’t burned him, she scorched him and left his carcass for dead. At least with Danika, he was secure in the knowledge she wasn’t holding out for a million-dollar sperm donation. Nope, she had little interest in anything besides moving out and finding her passion.

  Tuesdays had become his favorite day of the week. Three or four hours with Dani before she had to go home. His schedule wasn’t helping when it came to limiting time. OTAs had started so he could barely make it back to the city. Meeting halfway gave them a chance at new places, her normal Tuesday rule, but it limited the physical connection he not only craved, but needed.

  “Jerome,” Candace’s voice grated on him as he left the practice facility. Why couldn’t it just be a fan needing an autograph. “I know you hear me.”

  “And yet—” he was ready to give her is patented I don’t give a fuck speech when he turned and saw DeMonte standing next to her with his tiny hand wrapped around hers. This wasn’t the first time she’d been there at the end of his day, but it was the first time he’d seen his son in real life. She’d brought a trump card
he couldn’t ignore.

  “This crap with the lawyers has to stop,” she said as she walked toward him and he waved off security. DeMonte stayed silent with wide eyes as he looked up at Rome’s massive frame. “Look, I found someone else who’s willing to raise him. Why can’t you let him go?”

  “You’re the one demanding child support.”

  “So, if I drop that part you’ll stop your case?”

  No, in no uncertain terms. He could see himself in the eyes of his child. His father had abandoned him until he started showing out in high school ball. Then suddenly he was around again. This baby didn’t have his father and whoever was his stand in would have hate and resentment for the child of Jerome Speed. He’d seen it before. These damn jersey chasers getting their baby then going back to the man they love only to have him feel less than the father. Jerome wasn’t some god, but in the world they live in athletes were, especially ones that were franchise players.

  “Now what are the chances you’d give up the money?” Jerome asked, tamping down his feelings and wanting to scoop up his kid and take him away. “Because, Candace, in the last two years I haven’t seen you walk away from a dollar bill. Something tells me this won’t be any different.”

  “At least let me move out of state. It’s bullshit that I have to get your approval to leave.”

  “You want to move to Georgia. That’s not across the toll way to East Chicago. That’s a time zone away. He’s starting school soon. I want to be there for that.”

  “You haven’t been anywhere for him since the day he was born.”

  “Now we’re back to this. I’m a bad dad because you won’t give me access to my son. Didn’t even tell me he was coming. No, you can’t throw that on me. I’m not psychic. I can’t just feel a shift in the weather and know, a whor—” Rome caught himself. DeMonte may be standing quietly and only three, but he heard every word and no matter what she called him, Rome wasn’t going to disparage his mother in front of him. “And know that Candace is pregnant.”

  “You don’t even know him. You might not want to deal with him.”

  “He looks uncontrollable,” Rome said as he held out his fist for the boy to bump which he did, then curled in closer to Candace’s leg. “Can we set up a time to have me meet him? Go out to dinner or to a park?”

  “What about now? I’m free, he’s here.” Candace looked down at DeMonte and pulled him from her leg. “Boy, knock that off. Say hi to your daddy.”

  “Hi, sir,” he replied softly.

  “He’s a little shy when he meets new people.” She pushed him toward Rome. “Give him a hug. That’s your daddy not some stranger, geez, child.”

  Rome knelt down, but kept his hands at his side. DeMonte sized him up and stepped closer only to fall on him when Candace gave him another shove. Rome wrapped his arms tight around his child and the connection he made just from looking at his picture was nothing like holding his boy in his arms. Standing up with DeMonte, the boy didn’t do the normal wrap the legs around the belly. Instead he let his legs dangle, but did put his arm around his shoulders.

  “What do you think, little man? You think you look like me?” DeMonte nodded then snuggled in a bit tighter. “Want to see what an NFL locker room looks like? You like football?’

  “I don’t know,” DeMonte replied meekly and Rome’s heart ached.

  “How about I show you around for a minute and then we go out to dinner? What do you like to eat?”

  “McDonald’s,” DeMonte said as Rome put him down and took his hand.

  “MickyD’s, I don’t know about that, son, but we’ll find a good burger place.”

  “This mean you’re gonna let me move out of state?” Candace asked with her hand on her hip and attitude on her face.

  “You can move whenever you want,” Rome said as he looked back at her and kept his voice light enough to not scare his kid, but still get his point across. “He, on the other hand, ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

  “You could be traded and then who’d have the upper hand.”

  Rome turned and balled up his fist. “You’ve had the upper hand from the second you got knocked up. Don’t act like some innocent victim here. I want to know my son. You can be part of the problem or the solution. Either way, don’t play it off like you’ve been Mary Sunshine and Mother Teresa all wrapped up in the Madonna’s cloak.”

  “Maybe we’re too busy to hang out with you today. Let me check with my lawyer.”

  “I had stuff to do tonight, but I’m willing to pass on it to create a relationship with DeMonte.”

  If Candace could even understand what he was giving up maybe she’d cut him some slack. As he looked into her dark brown eyes, he realized she had no comprehension of love or loyalty. Whoever she was following to Georgia was not only a fool, but a damn fool. She was out for herself and no one else. As he looked down at the little boy standing next to him, he wondered how much money it would take to make Candace go away forever. Right now, DeMonte had the potential of being a monthly paycheck. Even though he was dressed in a white polo shirt, khaki shorts, and a pair of Jordan’s today, Rome doubted this was the child’s usual dress. Today he looked like he belonged to one of the players.

  “Candace, I’m going to play as nice as I can with you. What you did to DeMonte and me is foul on so many levels I lost count. Three years of random photos sent to me at your leisure can’t make up for the fact this kid looks at me like a stranger.”

  Candace crossed her arms and glared at him. “I did what was best for my son. To keep him safe.”

  “My lawyer says he’s been off and on assistance since birth. How did you manage that with me as his father?”

  “I didn’t list you. In fact, if it wasn’t for the state demanding I try to go after a father, I wouldn’t have even started this shit. I have a real man now.”

  “A real man, huh? And you’re still livin’ with your mama in Roseland and using state services?”

  “My mama is good people.” Candace’s hand flew in emphasis. “Don’t worry, she won’t be living in Roseland soon.”

  “She movin’ to Georgia too?”

  “No, but your child support should be more than enough to buy her a nice house somewhere else.”

  “You know what the most f—” Rome caught himself as he looked down at DeMonte. “I tried to buy her a home and you said no. I’m not with you for the money. You lie like it’s an Olympic event. You’re probably moving to Alaska not Georgia. Has anything you’ve ever said been true?”

  “DeMonte’s your son and there ain’t no more truth I owe you than that.”

  Chapter Nine

  Dani tapped her highlighter absently at the top of her open book. Advanced Microeconomics in Developing Countries had never been a page-turner. Why was she a business major again? Skill, sure, the breakdown of numbers made sense and she was adept to it. Theories were fine and she could understand them. Much like fashion, she knew it, it was easy, but there was no sizzle or pop. Lately, the only sizzle or pop she got was from being with Rome, but that wasn’t a job. If it was, one of them would have been fired earlier tonight.

  She’d waited almost an hour at Longitud315 in Highland Park before she’d taken out her phone for the tenth time and tried to decide if she should turn it on. Turning on the phone would mean she was working. Plus, Rome hadn’t left her hanging once. Last week he’d even been early. And the month with him had been great even with the limited contact. Tonight was supposed to be different. After dinner they were going to find a hotel and he was going to spend the night so he was close for OTAs the next day. Even though she hadn’t wanted to watch the time, the look of you got stood up from the wait staff was enough. Since it was too late to order for herself at that point she had conceded it was time to go home. When she turned on her phone in the morning she’d hear Rome’s excuse and it had better be a damned good one.

  A knock brought her back to the textbook in front of her.

  “Hey, Birdie,” her dad said as he s
tepped into her room. Captain of industry with the money to prove it. If people saw him on a random weeknight they’d never expect it. Wearing an alumni shirt from the University of Wisconsin and a pair of jeans, he looked more like a blue-collar worker. “Your mom has successfully turned chicken into charcoal.”

  “Energy crisis solved in one Bonnie Albright meal. Not bad for a random Tuesday night.” How Dani and her siblings survived before they had a maid who cooked must have something to do with fast food and her dad’s crock pot chili they still enjoyed a few times a year.

  “Well, we were hoping since we’re going fancy and ordering from Number One Chinese.” The smirk on her dad’s face made her drop her head and laugh. “You up for some takeout?”

  “What treat is this? Feeding the starving college student. Doesn’t that fly in the face of the William Albright rules of self-sufficiency?”

  “Mom burned the food that you chip in for,” he explained and she tried to stifle a grin. The hundred bucks a week she gave her family was her father’s way of teaching her responsibility. Of course it hadn’t adjusted for inflation or late night pantry raids in the past six years. Not a bad deal when she thought about all she really had to pay for in the world. “You can get takeout with us.”

  Her dad came in the room and sat on the end of her bed. Lifting the cover of her textbook to see the title, he looked back at her and shook his head. “You know, we miss our little Birdie. It’s like you’re never here. I haven’t seen you in a week. We have dinner at six-thirty most nights. It would be nice to be joined instead of you grabbing a plate of food and scurrying off to your room.”

  She felt the opposite. Only her family called her Birdie. Her sister, Tawny, was to blame. Only two when Dani was born, they tried to teach her how to say her baby sister’s name. It was the Ka at the end that tripped her up and she thought she was like all the other animals she learned by what they say. Cow, moo, cat, meow, baby sister with the ka, birdie. Stupid what sticks and what doesn’t.

  “Fine, I’ll take some sesame chicken. What do I have, an hour or so?”