The Firsts Series Box Set

by M. J. Fields

  “Well, times have changed.” He pauses. “Babies will do that to you.”

  “So, you what, take care of”—I pause to piss him off—“the kid? She too busy sleeping and shit-talking me?”

  “She doesn’t shit-talk you one fucking bit. She begged me not to call you,” he tells me. “And she went through some shit.”

  “What kind of shit?”

  “That girl has been through a lot, Trucker. No family, while trying to figure out what she’ll do to raise a baby alone.”

  “Was she gonna give it up?” I ask.

  “No, but she couldn’t look at her without crying the first few days. Not sure if it’s the whole baby blues thing, or the fact she found out she was Troy Fields’ kid. But we got her through it.”

  He laughs.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Hell, everyone offered to take her. Brody and Emma, Dad and Tessa.” He shakes his head as he slowly follows traffic into the Lincoln Tunnel. When we come to a complete stop, he grumbles, “Fuck.”

  They fucking offered to take her kid. What the fuck? What in the actual fuck is that about?

  He grabs his phone, hits a number, and Paris answers immediately.

  “You have one hour to get here.”

  He laughs. “Well, hello to you, too.”

  “Hey,” she says with a smile in her voice.

  “Hi, London,” I say in a sticky sweet voice

  “I can’t believe I have to deal with you—”

  “London,” Logan cuts her off, “we’re heading into the Lincoln Tunnel. We’re gonna lose service. But we’re almost there.”

  “Can’t wait,” she tells him.

  “Me either,” I grumble.

  “Unreal,” she sighs out. “What were you thinking, Logan?”

  “I made nice with Reeves; you can deal with this.” He laughs.

  “Fletcher didn’t knock up your sister and dodge his responsibility,” she huffs.

  Pisses me off.

  “You got a magic eight ball, London?”

  “You wanna talk about balls with me, super sperm?” she snaps back, and Logan holds back a laugh.

  I look at him . “You sure you wanna wife her?”

  “Change of plans. Let’s skip the show tonight and take Trucker to get fitted for cement shoes for his swim in—”

  The phone cuts out.

  I shake my head. “I know you’ve wanted to tap that forever, but let me ask you: was it worth all that?”

  He shrugs. “I’m sure it will be.”

  Bullshit, I think and laugh at him.

  When he squirms in his seat, I about die.

  “You fucking seriously haven’t fucked that?”

  He doesn’t answer.

  “Some advice?”

  “No.”

  “Tough shit. If she’s holding out on you, waiting for marriage, you’re probably gonna be spending a lot of time in the shower. What the hell are you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking I love her and want things to be perfect. I’m thinking she’s waited this long for me—”

  “You forget I was with you when you slashed that kid’s tires?” I laugh. “How do you know she’s waited for you?”

  “I just know.”

  I look at him, needing a little bit more in order to believe that shit.

  When he doesn’t say anything, I tell him, “I really hope everything works out.”

  “Same,” he sighs out.

  I am sitting at a table at Juniors restaurant across from Maddox Hines. Glaring past him at Logan, whose sitting with the oh so pleasant Paris.

  I’m fucking exhausted, and the angry Brit across from me is … well, fucking angry.

  “Didn’t realize we had a foursome. Was looking forward to the threesome myself.”

  He leans forward. “Save your bullshit, Trucker. I’m in no fucking mood.”

  I lean in just the same. “I’m in no fucking mood either.”

  “Let me ask you something. How is it that you can see Keeka with a child that is more than likely yours and not feel something?”

  “Not that it’s any fucking business of yours—”

  “I believe we’ve already visited this. Family is family, and she is in fact my family.”

  I lean back and cross my arms. “That’s great. I’m glad you have a DNA test to prove that. I fucking don’t.”

  “Well, maybe you should step the hell up and request one.”

  I want to scream in his face, Maybe I’ve asked a hundred times if I’m the baby’s father, and she tells me no!

  The waitress delivers our food.

  “Can I get another drink? And make it a double please.”

  “Yes, sir, right away.”

  “Make that two.” Maddox leans back in his chair and crosses his arms.

  “You’re the worst date I’ve ever had,” I tell him, forcing myself to take a bite of food.

  “Likewise,” he says, cutting up the rest of his sirloin.

  I lean back and look at him. “On a totally different note, I am so very sorry about T.”

  He looks at me, studying me, and then nods. “Thank you. We did get the plant.”

  “I’m not sure if that was a real thank you or a British fuck you.”

  “The accent throws a lot of people off.” He lifts one shoulder and looks down at his meal. When he glances up, he says, “You’re still wondering because I haven’t decided which I’d prefer it to be. I’ll let you know when I’ve made my decision.”

  I lean forward. “Let me ask you something, Maddox. What did you think before you met her?”

  “Come again?”

  “About me. What did you think about me before you met her.”

  “People change, Trucker,” he answers.

  “Not their character.”

  Date from hell

  Trucker

  After leaving the restaurant, it was time for the second part of the date from hell. We went to see a musical.

  When it started, I wanted to fucking leave. Honestly, I paid little attention to the damn show until I noticed Logan comforting his crying fiancée. What did it remind me of? Keeka and all the fucking times I pushed her, needing her to explain some shit to me. Or when I hurt her because I was fucking hurting. Or Keeka when she was … happy.

  In a nutshell, Waitress, the musical, was about a chick who hated her life. Her husband was an abusive dick, she got knocked up, and cheated on the dick with her snatch doctor, and then she had a kid who seemed to be what made her life change.

  It ended up that the woman was alone, yet happy as a dick in a warm apple pie, with possibly the cutest little shit of a kid smiling her little head off.

  And what was the kid’s name? Lou.

  While my dates used the bathroom. I waited and saw a little baby one-piece thing that said, Lulu’s Pies. I ended up buying the damn thing.

  When we walked back to the hotel that night, London tried to snatch the bag out of my hand, so I had to shove it in my pocket so she wouldn’t see it. I had no idea what the fuck I was going to do with it, but it was none of her damn business.

  In the elevator, I typed out at least ten texts to send to her, then ended up deleting them all. And London was trying to look over my shoulder every time I started typing one out. Pissed me off, and it hit me right then and there that, if I was this kid’s dad and demanded to be part of her life, I would have to deal with London, Maddox, Logan, and the rest of them for the rest of mine.

  After a shower, I lay in bed, looking at the newsfeeds on Facebook of the Ross/Hines/Links crew. I see her smiling, beaming the way she used to look at me every time I walked into her apartment.

  She’s found her football, I think as I look at her smile, ghosting her lips with my thumb.

  Unlike the last time I Facebook stalked her like a fucking high schooler with a hard-on, I allow myself to look at the baby, Leddie Lou. My chest aches. No … my heart fucking hurts as I look at the blue-eyed, black-haired, caramel-skinned littl
e beauty with her mother’s lips, and I wonder how the fuck I’m going to proceed.

  Having decided I wasn’t going to stick around for the second part of the shittiest, longest date I have ever been on, I shower and get dressed.

  While sitting on the bed, trying to find the quickest flight back to Syracuse, someone knocks on my door. I toss my phone on the bed and open it.

  “Good morning.” Maddox nods. “I’d like you to come with me to see London before we bow out of day two.”

  “Good. I was just booking a flight home.”

  “Hmm …” he says, looking around. “Let’s go have a chat with them, shall we?”

  I slide me feet into my boots then follow him to the elevator.

  Minutes later, Maddox knocks on the door, and London opens it.

  “Morning, Paris.” I smile, and she rolls her eyes as she steps back and allows us in.

  Maddox gives her a hug and kisses the top of her head. “Where’s Logan?”

  “He’s still in bed.”

  I can’t help laughing.

  She glares at me. “He’s tired.”

  I smile and shake my head.

  “Still a virgin, asshat.” She rolls her eyes at me, and Maddox chuckles.

  The suite’s bedroom door is opened, and he walks out. “Everything okay?”

  I can’t help myself. “You tell me?”

  London slugs me in the arm. I rub the opposite one.

  She points to me then Logan. “You two are a lot alike.”

  “Grew up together, Paris,” I remind her.

  “Well, one of you grew up. The other needs to.” She’s fucking quick.

  “What’s going on?” Logan asks, still groggy from sleep.

  “Keeka’s mom has a storage unit that … well, I found out about it and think it’s absurd she’s paying for it every month. I was going to ask you if you’d like to come, but I think Trucker and I can get it.”

  “Me?” I gasp.

  “Yes, you. Then I think you and I can ride home together.” Maddox gives me a quick fuck you grin.

  “This is the worst fucking date I’ve ever been on.” I shake my head.

  “I’ll buy you a drink on the way home.”

  Maddox smirks then looks at London. “You sure you’ll be all right if I take off?”

  She thumbs back at Logan. “He drove through a building to get to me. I think I’m in good hands.”

  As Maddox and Paris chat, I walk over and whisper to Logan, “Bad ass move driving through that building.”

  He smirks.

  Then I ask, “But still no ass?”

  He gives me the finger.

  I pat his shoulder. “You need to work on your game.”

  “Well, you need to work on—”

  “I’m planning on it,” I interrupt him.

  “ ’Bout damn time.”

  “Yeah, well, thanks for the fucking heads-up.”

  He looks at me. “She made me promise, man, and she was hell-bent on not fucking up anyone’s life.”

  “Still bullshit, Logan, and you know it.”

  “Yeah, well, a lot has fucking happened and—” He shakes his head. “Every moment, right?”

  “You okay?”

  He looks at me and shrugs. “Gotta be.”

  “You ready?” Maddox asks.

  I give him two thumbs-up and a fake-ass smile. “Can’t wait.”

  When we walk outside the hotel, I see a white Porsche Cayenne, and a man in front of it with a black jacket with a Porsche logo on it. He steps forward.

  “Mr. Cohen?”

  I look at Hines, who shrugs, then back at the Porsche guy. “Yeah?”

  He opens the door. “It’s exactly what you asked for. Fully loaded and all. Just need a signature.”

  Out of my peripheral, I see Hines chuckle silently.

  Fucker.

  I walk around the vehicle and look at it while Maddox fucking Hines stands smugly watching me.

  “She’s a beauty, but I think you must have misunderstood.” I look at Maddox and continue, “I’m pretty sure I asked for the S, not the entry level version.”

  “Oh. Oh, well, my mistake. I can be back in two hours with the right one.”

  “We’ll take this for now. You don’t mind, do you?” I pull my wallet out of my pocket and hand him my black card.

  He shakes his head, hands me the keys, and takes the card. “Of course not.”

  “Also, I’d like it in cherry red. And when you order the tags, I want vanity plates. I’d like them to say MVP0102.”

  “Of course, Mr. Cohen. It may take a little bit longer, but—”

  “You have my number; just call me.”

  I look at Hines, who is covering his mouth with both hands, hiding a smile, no doubt. “You ready?”

  I get in the vehicle and rev the engine as he gets inside.

  I look over at him. “Nicely played.”

  He shrugs. “I do what I can.”

  “Buckle up.” I hit the accelerator and peel out without giving him a chance.

  Thirty minutes later, we pull up in front of Safe Store in Brooklyn, New York.

  A man walks out to the gates and looks at the car as Hines gets out.

  I toy with sending her a text, but then he walks back, opens the door, and gets in.

  “Wrong place?” I ask, tossing my phone back on the console.

  “No, he’s verifying.”

  “Verifying?”

  He nods.

  “Explain?”

  He turns and looks at me. “I gave him the key, and he said he needed to verify.”

  “She know we’re here then?”

  He shifts in his seat.

  “Let me rephrase. How did you get the key?”

  “It was in her apartment,” he answers.

  “She know you were in there?”

  “You know, you ask a lot of questions for a man who spoke so poorly of her just a few days ago.”

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but since I found out she was knocked up three days before Chaos, I’ve asked her if I was the baby’s father, and she says no every time.”

  “You’ve spoken to her?”

  Now I’m the one to look away.

  “Let me rephrase. Have you spoken to her?”

  “That wasn’t actually rephrasing.”

  “Well, in case you didn’t notice, I’m not much for games.” He pulls his sunglasses off.

  I pull mine off, too, and lean in. “Bullshit. I just bought a car.”

  He looks away, smirking. Then he says, “Tell me how you found out.”

  I look away. “JJ Jones. He came to visit me after the season ended. He told me. He also told me there was a possibility of four others being a baby daddy to Keeka’s kid.”

  “Is that so?”

  “It is so. And he thought she was only six of seven months along. That would put me out of the running.”

  “Request a DNA test then. Don’t go around fucking with her heart.”

  “Her heart? She broke mine!”

  He cocks his head and looks at me. “I think you’ll soon see she was protecting you. I think you’ll see she was protecting herself. And I’ll think you’ll also see that she will protect Leddie even more fiercely.”

  “I’m not the fucking enemy, Hines.”

  “On the contrary, I think you’ll soon become a very formidable ally. But first, you need to know what you’re up against.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Our pasts can be ignored, but they must first be faced. I don’t think either one of you have done that completely.”

  “When did Brits start making fortune cookies?”

  “What?”

  “Nothing, man, nothing.”

  “Have you faced your past?”

  “Fuck yes, I have, and I worked to overcome it.”

  “A woman’s heart is much more delicate. And her emotions? Fucking confusing.”

  “No shit, right?” I si
gh.

  He smiles and nods. “But beautiful creatures aren’t easy to look away from. And true love? A million miles, a million years, won’t change what the heart wants. What does your heart want, Trucker?”

  A rap on the window saves my ass from answering the question … or so I think.

  He doesn’t look away. “Well, do you love her?”

  A woman knocks again.

  “Someone’s at the window.”

  I start to open my door, but he stops me.

  “Trucker?”

  “One blunt object to a heart can destroy it. It can kill a man, Hines. But I sure as fuck did once.”

  She hasn’t let me close enough to figure out if I still do. She keeps fucking hurting me, telling me no, lying to me. I don’t do lies. Fuck that.

  I walk around the car and look at the older black woman. “Can we help you?”

  She cocks her head and laughs a deep belly laugh. “You Trucker Cohen?”

  That fucking laugh, that smile, they could knock a man off his feet.

  “Sure am.”

  “You the one here about the storage unit?”

  I nod. “I suppose I am.”

  “Can I ask why?”

  “Keeka pays for something she doesn’t need to. We thought we’d save her some money while we were in town.”

  “Keeka …?” she begins.

  “Hello, ma’am. I’m Maddox Hines.”

  “Oh yes, you are. How do the two of you know my girl?”

  “How the hell did I miss that?” I laugh. “You’re Shakeeka.”

  “Are you confused, son? You just said you were here for me.” She laughs again.

  “Keeka, Carmen’s daughter?”

  She looks at me in confusion. “You mean Brooklyn?”

  Angels and family

  Keeka

  We’ve spent four days in Blue Valley. Two with London, and two without. Lucas played chauffer and blessed us with a playlist that consisted of every rock song from the 80s until now with word angel in the title.

  While there, I spent a few hours behind my grandmother Josie’s bar and met some of her regulars while she showed Leddie off like she was the most amazing creation on this earth, and she is. The bar is in the country, on a small lake, and was nothing like the one I worked at. But the people who came in and out of it were treated like family, which was similar. No, it wasn’t the same as a sports bar, so there wasn’t a lot of sports talk. It seemed as though their “football,” their passion, their sport, was fishing.