Football Dick (Big Girls, Bad Boys, and Babies)

by Violet Blaze

  “Is that guy giving people tattoos?” I ask as I notice a dude in a corner pressing a silver machine into some chick's arm.

  “Looks like it,” Rhoden says as he turns around and starts walking backward, pulling me into the crowd with him. I resist a little at first because, come on, who goes dancing when they're pregnant? But then I'm standing in the middle of the room, feeling the crowd's heartbeat in my chest and Rhoden's taking hold of my hips and then … I'm just dancing.

  It's so much weirder to dance sober than it is drunk, a lot harder to get into it at first, but once I do, I find myself laughing as Rhoden turns me in a circle. Flashy costumes twirl by as I let him take me in his arms and grind our bodies together, his hands burning through the leather of my dress.

  As sweat drips down Rhoden's chest, I find my fingers tracing over his muscles, our faces getting closer and closer together until we're kissing as much as we're dancing, his tongue sliding hot and warm against mine. I bet Walter would love to see this, I think as I hook my arms around Rhoden's neck and let him pull us together. He's a hell of a lot more adventurous than I am, but I think that's good for me. I need someone to force me to test new waters (like, literally, a Pacific Ocean swim at night?!), someone to take my hand and pull me onto the dance.

  Rhoden and I grind our way through several songs, until I find myself needing to take a break. I might not be that pregnant, but I'm still carrying an NFL star's baby here.

  We thread our way over to the refreshments and I load up on sparkling water since for some weird reason no rich person I've ever met drinks tap. I notice Rhoden doesn't drink either, opting for soda instead one of the weird dry ice cocktails that are lined up on the table next to us. I don't say anything, choosing to smile secretively into my drink instead.

  “Tell me,” I shout over the hop of the music and the laughter of the people around us. “Was this party on your roster already? I mean … before this whole baby thing came up?” Rhoden grins.

  “I knew about it, sure. But I didn't know if I was gonna come.”

  “Why not?”

  He leans in close to my ear with a smile.

  “There was no point,” he says and then presses a kiss against the side of my throat. “Because I didn't think you were going to be here.”

  He stands up as I flush and lift a hand to press against the sensitive spot on my neck. I have no idea if he's telling me truth or not, but … that'd be crazy nice if it were true.

  Just as I'm starting to feel like I could hit the dance floor again, I see Anise dancing near the massive fireplace, the one whose mouth is as tall as Rhoden. Inside are giant pillar candles of varying heights, melting white wax all over everything.

  “That's her,” I tell Rhoden as I stand up and we start working our way over there.

  As soon as she sees me, Anise's face falls and she purses her lips. She pats one of her white leather gloved hands against her dance partner's chest (the guy's wearing a giant pink mouse head) and steps away to smile tightly at me.

  “Della,” she says as she glances over at Rhoden. Anise takes a deep breath and gestures at the side door to my right. It leads out onto a massive deck that overlooks the forest. People are dancing out here, too. Some of them are in the hot tub to my left, and a couple are starting a fire pit down a stone walkway in the center of the yard. “I was kind of hoping you wouldn't show up,” she says with a bitter looking set to her mouth.

  A waitress in a tight black corset with lizard scale tattoos on her arms (no joke) walks by and Anise snags a drink, her tall body plastered in a white jumpsuit, her perfect dark hair like glittering onyx down her back. She's so much better looking than Walter, it's not even funny. Honestly, I think I'd rather date her.

  “You seriously don't want to marry my brother?” she asks, a tad on the suspicious side, looking me up and down in my tight leather condom dress (that's kind of what it looks like to me) like I'm crazy. “He's got control of Donsanto now,” she adds, like that's the most important part, how much money and power he has. “Are you sure that's not his baby?”

  “Unless he practices the art of immaculate conception, then no.” I fold my arms under my boobs and pretend I don't notice how hard they're trying to escape from the top of the dress. Rhoden is leaning against the side of the house next to me, eyebrows raised, a slight smile on his face. He looks so goddamn young in that moment, like there's no way in hell we could be having a kid together. It hits me suddenly that Rhoden is … like two years younger than me.

  HOLY SHIT!

  “I don't want to do anything to hurt my brother, you know?” Anise says as she takes a step back and laces her fingers together behind her head. “But if he's really stalking you or whatever …” She trails off and glances down at the damp wood of the deck beneath her feet. “I do know what he's capable of.” She looks up at us and runs her tongue along the matte purple of her lipstick. “That guy you went to school with,” Anise says, looking over at Rhoden. He cocks a brow at her.

  “You know about that?” he asks and Anise nods, taking a deep breath and then glancing down to see if the dry ice has melted in her drink. Then she tips it back and takes a giant swig of purple liquid.

  “Actually, yeah.” Anise puts the glass on the railing and then snatches another drink from a waiter in black chaps. “Because it wasn't his girlfriend at the time that was having an affair with Calvin Witten; it was me.”

  “I don't get it,” Rhoden says as he stands up and moves over to stand next to me. “If it was you, then why'd he care so much?”

  “Gigi, the girl he was dating, and I were really close at the time.” Anise gives me a look. “She, like you I guess, had decided she didn't want to marry Walter either. I suppose my brother doesn't exactly have a magnetic presence?”

  “Yeah, well,” I start, but I'm definitely not here to tell Anise what I really think of her psycho brother. I could fill a book with all the things Walter needs help with.

  “Anyway, she had Cal help her move her stuff out of their penthouse when Walter wasn't home. I guess he'd thought she was having an affair with him anyway since they'd been spending so much time together—mostly with me. But Walter dealt with Calvin before I had a chance to set him straight. And then he … well, you know the rest of the story.”

  “So you'll help us?” I ask and Anise nods reluctantly.

  “I don't want something to happen now like it did then. I've learned to forgive my brother over time, but I won't let him keep being a bully.” Anise sighs and taps her manicured black nails against the glass in her hand. “I have some … things that I stole from his home office. Proof that he's been moving company money into offshore accounts.”

  “Your brother's embezzling money?” I ask, completely and utterly perplexed. “But he's … he's already rich as dirt.” Anise gives me a look and a gentle shake of her head, but I don't ask her to explain. Why bother? Don't rich people always embezzle money? I've learned from my stepmom, stepsisters, and father that it's never enough, never enough money or jewelry or cars or property. I don't get it, but I guess that's why the only thing I've ever been excited about in my life is blogging.

  Or being a mother.

  Or … Rhoden Richards.

  “Walt knows that I have this stuff, but he doesn't think I'd ever use it against him. Just … I'll give you copies of everything that I have, and the name of a forensic account that's a friend of mine. It should be enough leverage to get Walter to leave you alone.” Anise looks distinctly uncomfortable about all of this. “Look, he's family, and this isn't just his reputation on the line. It's all of ours. Don't make me regret this, okay?”

  “Thank you, Anise,” I say, feeling a huge wave of relief wash over me. She nods and then pulls her cell from a back pocket, offering it to me so I can plug in my information. Okay, so I plug in Ariana's information because I'm not sure if Walter's been watching my emails or not. God, I really hope he isn't, but at this point I'm not so certain of anything.

  Anise moves b
ack inside to join the fray of dancer as Rhoden smiles down at me.

  “That was … a whole lot less painful than I thought,” I say, feeling a strange sense of relief wash over me. Really? That's it? That's all I have to do?

  I should've known it wouldn't be that simple.

  “Are you ready to try that sex swing now?” Rhoden asks and I laugh, letting him take my hand again. He rubs his thumb in a warm circle in that spot where thumb meets pointer finger, dark eyes half-lidded and sexy as hell. “Back to the dance floor then?”

  “That sounds a little more manageable,” I say as he drags me inside and pulls our bodies together, melding us into a dancing sea of leather and latex clad rich people with serious emotional complexes.

  There's no place in the world I'd rather be.

  After the party, Rhoden offers me a ride in his truck, gliding us smoothly along back roads through the country and then swinging a loop to get us into the heart of the city. He takes us straight into his parking garage before turning and looking me in the face.

  “Do you want to stay the night again?” he asks, and I nod, enjoying the way his expression shifts into that deep, dark shadow of a smile that drew me to him at the masquerade party. It only gets worse as we take the elevator up and enter the darkness of his penthouse.

  I can practically taste the sexual tension between us.

  I move into the room and drop my purse on his couch, pausing as I catch sight of his laptop on a desk in the corner. The screen is open and there's an image there that I recognize, burned into my brain by the hot iron of embarrassment.

  It's our ocean kissing picture, the one with my hair hanging in my face, my hands pressed against Rhoden's cheeks. Looking at it now gives me the chills. Or maybe that's his warm presence behind me, fingers trailing down my arms as I study the screen.

  “Is this your collection of conquests?” I ask, but the image doesn't change. It's not a slideshow on a loop, just a single photo. I look at it for a long time before Rhoden turns me around and bites his bottom lip in thought for a second.

  “I told you, Della,” he says as he lifts me up onto the edge of the desk and pushes my leather dress up my thighs, stepping between them. “Fate brought us together. I thought that from moment one. Although Virgin pissed me off, threw a few wrenches in my plan. I was gunning for you the second I saw you in the dog park. I was just biding my time.”

  “Sure. Because I'm so much better than all those models, right?”

  His mouth twitches at the corners as he yanks me into his leather pants, the hard bulge of his cock teasing me through the thin layers of fabric.

  “Why do you discount yourself so much?” he asks as he leans in and breathes hot against my neck. Rhoden smells divine right now, like sandalwood and oak, fierce but comforting at the same time.

  “Because I don't think I'm good enough for you,” I admit as Rhoden slides a hand up my back and takes my zipper, pulling it down in a slow, agonizing sort of way. “Because I've never been enough for anyone before—not even my own family.”

  Rhoden leans back and looks at me carefully, slowly, studying my face as I sit there in front of his computer and try to breathe. I don't know why I feel so nervous right now, why I care so much.

  Why I'm so desperate for this guy to fall in love with me.

  “Don't let that bullshit get to you,” he says as reaches down and takes hold of the leather dress, drawing it up and over my head before tossing it onto the back of his couch. “The only person that has to think that you're good enough is you. You have to believe in yourself before anybody else can.” Rhoden pauses as he runs his hands down my slowly thickening waist. I wonder if he'll still like me this way when I get huge? “But for the record, I think you're more than good enough for me. Too good, maybe.”

  “You don't even know me.”

  “Then why don't you help me out with that?” he asks as he reaches around my back and unhooks my strapless bra with one hand. My breasts tumble out and Rhoden grins. “Help me get to know you better.”

  He leans down and captures my nipple with his hot mouth, my fingers curling in his dark hair as I arch my back against the pleasure. Oddly enough, that's when it really hits me, a question that's been brewing for a while. It might not seem all that important, but for me, it is.

  “Rhoden,” I whisper and he pauses, standing up straight to look at me. “Do you by chance happen to purchase your jeans from Target?” He gives me a look like I'm a crazy person.

  “Who doesn't?” he asks and then grins big, picking me up from the desk and carrying me into his room.

  I don't say anything in that moment, but I'm pretty damn sure I've just met my soul mate.

  The next morning, I wake up alone in Rhoden's bed, stretching my limbs languorously and smiling up at his mother's quote on the ceiling. I crawl out from under the covers and log onto his computer with the password he left me.

  As promised, there's an email in Ariana's inbox (we're BFFs, okay, we share passwords) from Anise. I open it up and check out the files: a few emails, some spreadsheets, a couple of hard copies that were scanned in. It all looks foreign as hell to me, but I suppose I'll never know if this stuff is real or not unless I test the theory.

  I start an email to Walter, trying to keep it cool and civil, telling him that I want to be left alone, that I want Rhoden left alone, and that my friends need to get their jobs back. I know I should probably call him or meet him in person or something, but the thought of it just makes me feel sick to my stomach. I don't attach any of the files, but I do tell him that I got a few gifts from Anise, hoping that's vague enough to sound scary. It's not like I exactly write threatening notes to people on a regular basis. Actually, that's Ariana's thing. She's damn good at writing vaguely threatening emails; it's one of her best skills.

  As soon as I get that sent, I pull up a blank email and start dictating a blog post that I figure I can use later, when Walter finally gets it in his right mind to stop stalking me like a crazy lunatic.

  Listen up, on Wednesday after practice, my new NFL … boyfriend? can I call him my boyfriend now? … and I are going to head into the country to see his mother. It'll only be for one night, but I'm basically freaking the hell out. Do you know the last time I met a guy's mother? It was … well, we'll just call the guy Mr. Virgin. Anyway, this visit feels important. Rhoden clearly looks up to his mother, wants to support her. I have a feeling that this could make or break our not-yet-a-real-relationship relationship.

  Anyway, sorry about not being able to give away that signed football like I'd promised; I now have thirteen of them that I stole from the autograph session at the arts center. I'll post some contests when I get back, so stay tuned for those. And trust me—I WILL be back. Honestly, writing about my problems makes them seem … less problematic.

  I remember the first time my stepmom called me fat, pinched the skin of my arm with her long nails and bruised me. I cried away my entire weekend. And then do you know what I did? I grabbed a notebook and I wrote down all of the things I was feeling and why I thought I was feeling them and guess what? It didn't make them go away, but it put them in perspective.

  I'm not perfect, no, but I'm trying. That's all we can ever do, try. So I'm going to keep up on my dress for success plan, and I'm going to keep challenging myself, and I'm going to be good enough.

  For my baby. For the guy I'm starting to fall for.

  Most importantly, for me.

  I send the email to myself and stand up, looking out the window at the city below and smiling. I have a good feeling about the next step in my life. I put a hand on my tummy and take a breath. Things will be okay if I let them, I know they will.

  I just need to see if Walter shares that same sentiment.

  Ariana and Hal came over to pack my clothes for the trip. I'm scared to unzip the bag and see what's in it because I kept adding things and they kept taking them away. What I do know is that I got some Target jeans in there, but I'm actually scared they're not
going to fit because they were tight when I got them and well, I'm growing an NFL player's baby right now.

  Also, I'm pretty sure that Ariana tucked some of her wedding invitations into the bag as a subtle hint. She wants Rhoden there more badly than she wants Scottie, I think. As I'm sure meeting Rhoden's mom will be some kind of litmus test for our relationship, I know that a night in with my friends will be the same.

  That's why, when Rhoden gets back from practice, we're heading over to Ariana's for dinner before we leave for his mom's place

  I am scared shitless. You should be, too.

  By the way, I'm wearing a kick ass pair of velvet lace-up booties and a black and white polka dot shirtdress—with no sleeves! Yeah, I'm starting to think that maybe I'm over that. Time to pick a new challenge and test my emotional/mental limits.

  Here's what I'm thinking: feeling beautiful through pregnancy. And I don't just mean on the outside because makeup and haircuts are easy, but on the inside. I want to stay positive, point the compass of my life in a certain direction and go for it.

  Now, I'm off to hear Scottie discuss corporate taxation limits.

  Woo hoo!

  My computer closes with a click as I head to the door and open it to find Rhoden waiting for me. His hand is raised to knock and he drops it by his side with a sly smile.

  “Fate,” he tells me, pointing between the two of us. Billy barks in agreement as he reaches for me and takes me by the arms, kissing me long and deep and hard with his tongue. It's a greeting I've never gotten from a man before, like I'm the highlight of his entire day.

  It's surprising … and exciting at the same time.

  I love it.

  “Are you ready for this?” I ask, because taking Rhoden to meet my friends is the equivalent of a meet-the-parents date. As of right now, I have zero interest in taking him to see my father or stepfamily. Sorry, but no. Not going to happen until I get some serious apologies. “Because I'm cool with stopping somewhere on the way to your mom's instead.”