His Surprise Baby

by Valentine, Layla

  The two men clambered into the back of the black car, where smooth jazz was playing and a full bar was built into the side paneling. Bradley was debating the efficacy of a Scotch and soda when Todd shifted to face him straight on. That was not a promising look.

  “Listen, man,” Todd said carefully. “Things are—well, I’ll be straight with you. Things are not good.”

  “Can you be more specific?” Bradley responded with caustic sarcasm.

  “Er, yeah.” The agent shifted in his seat, uncomfortable. The leather squeaked with the movements. “Sure. So, you remember the brawl last night?”

  The only sound was the smooth jazz filtering through the car speakers.

  “No.”

  Todd’s eyes widened a little. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “Well,” Todd began sheepishly, “you got into a bar fight. A pretty vicious one.”

  “Oh, fuck,” Bradley moaned. When you’re in the NFL, and deadlift 400 pounds, being in a bar fight just isn’t fair to the other guy. “Did he come out okay?”

  Todd grimaced. “You’ve kindly offered to cover his hospital bills.”

  “Shit.”

  “He’s uninsured.”

  “Shit.”

  Todd hesitated, then reached past him and swiped a bottle of whiskey and a glass from the bar. He poured himself a stiff drink and took a swig.

  “Well?” Bradley asked, not appreciating the theatrics.

  Todd had always been kind of a prima donna, but today, Bradley wasn’t having it.

  “So the thing is,” Todd said, “last night was bad, yeah. But they say bad news arrives in doubles, and that’s kind of the situation we’re dealing with at the moment. You see, well, no easy way to say this…sometime in the early morning, a sex tape was released. And you were in the starring role.”

  Bradley’s mouth dropped open, and he fumbled for words but couldn’t seem to find any between his shock and hangover.

  “And I’m sorry about this, man, I really am, but several sponsors have already started to back out, saying that you no longer meet their ‘family-friendly’ expectations.”

  “Since when am I fucking family-friendly?”

  “You know I’ve been able to spin the sleeping around. This is—you’ve gotta understand—this is a bridge too far for them.”

  Todd took another gulp of the whiskey and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

  “I’ve been on the phone with Coach Simon, too, and he says that the Sharks don’t need any more of this bullshit. Last season’s kerfuffle with Lucas was all that Simon could handle. If you don’t straighten up and fly right, he’ll cut you from the team.”

  Todd finished delivering the news, then polished off the brown liquid in his glass.

  Bradley was stunned. Had America really turned on its golden boy so fast?

  They’d loved him when he’d gotten caught necking in a VIP lounge, or dancing on the tables in St. Moritz. The magazines had published spreads devoted to Bradley’s alleged “Search for the One.” They’d made boatloads of cash off the whole flagrant display. He was 29, in the prime of his damn career, and was about to forfeit his legacy because of some bad behavior that had previously been encouraged? Hell no.

  “All right,” Bradley sighed. “How the fuck are we gonna fix this?”

  Chapter 3

  Heidi

  “Hi, sweetheart. What a wonderful surprise! I was just thinking about calling you the other day, what a funny coincidence, when I ran into Barbara at the grocery store, and do you know what that woman told me, she said—”

  “Mom,” Heidi interrupted, getting a word in edgewise. “I need to tell you something.”

  The line went quiet.

  “Okay,” her mother said slowly.

  “Listen, Mom. I’m leaving Image-ine.”

  Her mother tittered, in that way that only mothers can.

  “Why, honey? Did something happen? I thought you loved it there. Of course it’s hard, but you’ve never been a quitter, your teachers have said as much in every report card ever. You said you loved it.”

  “I do, it’s just…” Heidi trailed off. “It’s Gary.”

  “What did that asshole do this time?”

  Heidi smiled a little. Her straight-laced lawyer mother never swore. When she got this riled up, it meant she was completely on Heidi’s side. With that boost of confidence, Heidi launched into her story.

  See, Gary—as her mom had so aptly noted—had always been an asshole. He was Heidi’s boss, but he sure as shit didn’t act like it. He commented on her tits, her ass, and everything in between.

  He made lewd suggestions about what they could do after-hours, and had refused to call her anything except ‘the hot one,’ until at last she’d made exec tier and he’d had no choice but to acknowledge her by name. Not a single person in the office had spoken up about it, possibly because the HR person was a nepotism hire who owed his job to Uncle Gary.

  In short, he’d been harassing Heidi for years. She’d told her mom, Dina, about all of this in previous calls over her tenure at the company, and her mother, like any good parent, had encouraged her to quit.

  But it wasn’t that simple, obviously. Heidi had built up a reputation at the firm, had made good connections, and she didn’t want to sacrifice all of it just because some man was an asshole. No. She couldn’t let him win. If she could just ride out another year or so on the company’s paycheck, amass enough money for her own firm—then she’d tell Gary where to shove it, and flounce out the door.

  That hadn’t quite panned out. Because, this morning, she told Dina, on this godforsaken Monday morning, he’d cornered her in the office kitchen, licking his teeth and bragging about the shit he’d pulled over the weekend. She’d tried to ignore him and had continued preparing her breakfast. But he wasn’t having it; he craved her attention, and (Heidi suspected) the following rejection.

  Because he didn’t really think he ever had a chance with her, right? A young woman that smart, that funny, that hot—in what damn world would she sleep with a guy like him? She assumed he knew the answer was ‘never,’ but that didn’t seem to change anything.

  He’d gotten back up in her face, his breath reeking of stale liquor, either from last night or this morning (or both), and bragged about the models he’d been screwing, name-dropping one woman after another. Heidi wouldn’t have been impressed even if she had believed him, but she didn’t believe him. Gary was a pathological liar.

  “Tell your wife I said hi,” she’d shot back at him, as she’d attempted to maneuver her way out of the small kitchenette. “She must be so very pleased with your behavior.”

  He’d laughed a deep, cruel laugh. “That bitch doesn’t know a thing,” he’d said.

  Now, that interaction alone wouldn’t have been worth a call to her mom. Gary said shit like that on a daily basis. On Heidi’s personal ‘Scale of Bad Gary Behavior,’ this barely registered.

  Hence, it was an essentially unmemorable day until the front door of the office had slammed open, and a piercing shriek had filled the building, bouncing off white-washed walls, no carpet in its modern lines to dampen the noise.

  The scream had risen and risen until its owner came into view—it was Ellen, Gary’s wife, and the mother of his children. Heidi knew this from having met her at a few office Christmas parties, at which Ellen usually slurred about how mean Gary was (no surprise there), and how he was a terrible father.

  But never, not ever, had she appeared in the office. This was bad news.

  Ellen had shouted, “Get that fucking asshole out here, right now!” to a nearby secretary, who’d skittered off in search of the boss. Gary had appeared moments later, using hushed tones and calming words, saying “Now, now, honey.” While the entire staff had looked on, Ellen had pulled from her designer purse a pair of purple lace panties.

  “Whose thong is this?” she’d bellowed into his face. “I’m an extra small, and these are a medium. Not to mention, I found
them in the back of your car, and God knows we haven’t had sex in there since the Bush administration. You gonna tell me who they belong to? Or should I just call up my lawyer and get him working on the divorce paperwork?"

  Gary had rambled nervously, going on and on about how he was so sorry to cause her any alarm, he really was, and how badly he felt that she’d had to drive all the way down here to yell at him about underwear, when they didn’t actually mean a thing.

  “Because,” he’d said, turning towards Heidi, “they’re Heidi’s.”

  The office of two dozen people had gasped in a jarring unison, like in a particularly cheesy movie.

  What the fuck, Heidi had thought-screamed. That can’t be true. Unless he found the pair I keep in my office for emergencies. But why was he searching through my desk? Was he searching through my—

  “No, not like that,” he’d went on, holding up his hands in a peace gesture to the room. “I was giving Heidi a ride home from the gym last week, and silly goose, she didn’t zip her bag up tight. Classic. Her, ah, undergarments fell out in the trunk.”

  Gary had looked directly at her, the mean set of his jaw indicating that she was to play along, or else.

  “I texted you and said I’d give them back, right Heidi? But I just forgot.”

  Heidi had been astonished. Did he really expect her to play possum while he lied to his wife of 15-odd years? It was one thing to be subjected to his unwanted advances, and another to be made complicit in the ruining of that woman’s life.

  He’d walked over to Ellen, plucked the offending panties out of her hand, and strode back across the office, like a matador proudly presenting his cape to screaming fans in the stands of an arena. He’d come to a halt in front of Heidi, and lifted his arm, dangling the panties between two bloated fingers. Her eyes had swum with the purple lace.

  “Now,” he’d growled, leaning in, “here’s your underwear. Take it.”

  The words had been a command, a threat, and the moment had hung tensely. Distantly, she’d thought she’d heard a secretary whisper, “Oh my God.”

  At last, after years of putting up with his bullshit, Heidi could no longer dance around the problem. The time for venting about it—or desperately hoping Gary could become a different person—was over. She had been confronted with a choice: take the underwear, cover up Gary’s indiscretion, and continue her swift rise to the top, or refuse it, and lose everything she’d worked for over the past five years.

  Heidi had taken a deep breath, and peered around Gary’s flabby, red face. She’d made eye contact with Ellen, who had been shaking in the middle of the cubicle maze, a tear running helplessly down her sunken cheeks. That was the face of a woman who had been through the wars, a face that deserved some honesty for the first time in over a decade.

  “These,” Heidi had told Ellen, “are not my fucking underwear.”

  There had been a pin-drop silence. Gary had moved to stand inches from Heidi’s face, thin lips parted into a sneer, bloodshot eyes attempting to drill a hole into her own.

  “What,” he’d whispered, “did you just say?”

  “I said,” she’d replied, voice rising to a shout audible for the whole office, “these are not my fucking underwear!”

  And thus, even as she knew she’d ended any future career at Image-ine, Heidi had been able to confidently stride away from the scene she’d left in her wake—a crying, yelling Ellen, a stuttering Gary, an office in chaos. She had finally stood up to her creepy boss, and had brought him to his knees in a room of his peers. God, it had felt really, really good to land that last metaphorical kick in the balls.

  She finished relaying the story to her mom, who had been dutifully drawing in sharp inhales of breath at all the right moments.

  “Well,” Heidi said into the receiver with finality, “what do you think? Did I make the right choice?”

  “Honey,” Dina replied, “of course you did. That monster got exactly what he deserved. And you got what you deserved—freedom from his bullshit. A fresh start.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” She paused. “Listen, I gotta go now. Pack up my stuff, you know.”

  “Were you officially fired?”

  “I mean, not technically, but suffice to say, I’m done here.”

  “Okay,” Dina said. “I can’t wait to see what you do next.”

  They exchanged a round of ‘I love yous’ and ‘goodbyes,’ and Heidi hung up the phone, satisfied. Yes, she was a confident young professional, but having her mom’s approval was still worth something.

  She began pulling open the drawers of her desk, taking out any personal objects and leaving the office supplies. She had a tidy workspace; it wouldn’t take her too long to clean out what few items she’d brought in.

  She was mulling over stealing some pens and staplers in lieu of a severance package when her phone rang. Probably just Dina again, reminding her about a holiday she’d need to travel home for or something.

  “Hey Mom,” Heidi said, distracted as she dropped her items into a box. “What’d you forget?”

  “Actually,” a deep voice on the other end said, “I’d rather you call me Daddy.”

  Chapter 4

  Heidi

  Heidi was mute for what seemed like eons, until at last she gathered her social graces and attempted speech.

  “Um, what?” Not a good first try.

  “I’m sorry,” the voice said, breaking into a laugh. “Bad joke. I wasn’t trying to be creepy.” A pause, then it continued. “Oh shit, it was super creepy, wasn’t it? My apologies, ma’am, I promise I was raised right. My mom would be horrified—her Bradley is an upstanding man!”

  Bradley? Who the hell is Bradley? she thought.

  Then, realizing a phone isn’t a telepathy instrument, she said into the receiver, “Who’s Bradley?”

  “Me. Bradley Fox. And you’re Heidi Morris.”

  Her mind raced.

  Bradley Fox? All-star quarterback for the Orlando Sharks? Has at least ten different commercials running on TV at any given time? The playboy, millionaire, and American heartthrob? Holy shit.

  She gathered herself, unwilling to let her total shock touch the conversation; she had too much pride.

  “I am indeed Heidi Morris. How can I be of assistance?” she said in a tone that she hoped concealed her absolute wonderment. And, if not, who could blame her? The man was a dreamboat.

  “Dwayne, our running back, suggested I give you a call. He said you helped him out of a jam a few years back, when that escort went public and tried to sue him for all he was worth. If you keep up with the, ah, well…internet, you may have seen that I got into some trouble last night.”

  That was putting it pretty mildly. She had seen the headlines:

  “Bradley Fox Throws Punches!” “Fox Sex Tape Leaked!” “Head Coach of Sharks Considering Fox’s Removal!”

  “I’ve heard bits and pieces,” she said, trying to play it cool and make it seem like no big deal. This guy had already had a bad enough day without her rubbing salt in the wound.

  “Then you know I’m in need of an image makeover. A total reset. Clean slate. Whatever you wanna call it. Heidi,” he said quietly, “could you help me? I love this sport, and it would kill me to lose all I’ve accomplished over some stupid antics.”

  Just as she was in the middle of leaving one job, the opportunity of the century had rung her personal line. Fate had a funny way of stepping in and writing her the title of a new chapter.

  “Of course I can help.”

  “Lunch tomorrow, say about noon?”

  “Deal.”

  “Give me your cell number and I’ll text you the details.”

  She relayed her number to Bradley, whilst thinking in the back of her mind how much her teenage self would kill to see this moment, wherein she gave her number to the country’s greatest QB. Talk about living your wet dreams.

  “All right,” Bradley said. “I look forward to meeting you tomorrow. I’ve heard good things.”

/>   And with that, he hung up, leaving Heidi star-struck and delighted.

  Her career wasn’t over, no, far from it—all of a sudden, it was just beginning. Starting an agency from scratch was brutal work. But starting an agency with Bradley Fox as the headlining client on your roster? It made the mountain climbable.

  She grinned, and thought with awe, Heidi, you are one lucky bitch.

  Chapter 5

  Heidi

  The next day, after an early-morning spin class, Heidi came home and started gathering tax documents. Unfortunately, starting a new business was as much grunt work as it was glamorous networking, and she had to do the grunt before she got to do the glamour.

  A few hours of absentmindedly filling out forms later, typing her name, address, and social security number out so many times she began to get them mixed up, she decided to put down the grunt work, and prepare for some glamorous networking.

  First, an internet deep dive on Bradley, because she was nothing if not meticulous. As a woman who worked in contemporary media, she had some vague awareness of his antics, but as she went further and further back into the search engine archives, she found intimate details on the football star. What she found painted a painfully clear image, and one she almost regretted seeing.

  He’d grown up in a small, impoverished town in Hawaii, the kind of place where “not having two cents to rub together” was practically literal. There was one photo after another of him as a boy, usually with his beatifically smiling mother at his side, in a dingy house, palm trees visible outside their window.

  Heidi’s heart ached for that boy, who looked too big for such a tiny room, for such a tiny town. She read that he’d shown early signs of athletic prowess, and before long, some kindly teacher had suggested he join the middle school football team. Heidi scoured the photo galleries, watching him grow from just a kid into the grinning, self-confident captain of his high school team. Click, click, click.