by Lexi Wilson
“Whoever you are,” I whispered, touching my belly, “it’s time for Mommy to go to work.” And with that, I went to the bed to wrap up the white and blue dresses.
_______________
What had made me do it after so much time thinking about it, I don’t know, but once I was dressed in the most attention-getting gown and matching shoes, I took myself down the hall to the door to Barrett’s room.
Perhaps it was just because the little dance I was doing in my head about it was getting so damn tiresome. I think what got me moving was finally remembering something my father always said. “There are times,” he’d say at important moments, “when you’ve just got to do your dance or get off the stage.” I’ve heard the same thing said in much ruder ways, but I liked the way Daddy put it.
So there I was, all dressed up for my debut as a commercial spokesmodel, knocking on the lead spokesman’s door. There was no answer. I put my ear closer to the door, not wanting to muss my hairstyle, listening for any sounds from inside. Maybe Barrett was in the shower. For all that I could hear, it was quiet in there.
I knocked again. Still no answer. And, still no sound coming through the door. Did he have headphones on? Was he dressing in the bathroom? Come on, Barrett, answer. Don’t make me have screwed up my courage for nothing.
I knocked again, but the response that I heard was not from inside Barrett’s room. I put a hand to my bosom, startled, and whipped around at the sound of a door opening behind me and a room service guy with a tray of wine bottles and dishes coming out of someone else’s room. I calmed myself, smiling at him.
“Something I can help you with, Miss?” the hotel staff asked.
A bit ruffled, I said, “Oh, I just wanted to talk to Mr. Porter. This is his room, and…”
“Right,” said the room service guy. “Afraid you missed him by a few minutes. He was right on his way out when I came to pick up these guests’ dishes.”
“Oh,” I said, trying not to show my disappointment. “Thanks. I guess that spares my knuckles any more rapping.”
“I guess so. Have a good evening, Miss,” he said, and headed off with the tray.
Watching him leave, I paused and lingered at Barrett’s door just long enough to curse my bad timing and nurse my regret at having screwed up my courage for nothing. Perhaps the universe was trying to tell me something.
Bama, you’re so worried about being pregnant and you’re not even showing yet. You’re more gorgeous and beautiful tonight than you’ve ever looked in your life. You’re going to a place where all eyes will be on you and everyone will be thinking how gorgeous and beautiful you are. It’ll be a beautiful place with beautiful food, and you’ll be on the arm of the hottest guy in professional sports. Okay, it so happens he’s the guy who knocked you up, but still… You can still tell him later. It’s not like you’re going to get any less pregnant if you don’t tell him tonight.
And maybe it was a cop-out, maybe even a little irresponsible, but I decided the universe was right. I had never had an evening like this in my life, not even in high school when I went to prom. And after this energy drink campaign was over, who knew how many more evenings like this I would have, especially as a mother with an infant to care for. No, I would be beautiful for the cameras, and no one would know why I looked so radiant. I would enjoy this evening as much as I could.
Then I would find some way to get Barrett alone and tell him.
Chapter 10
Barrett
I knew Bama wouldn’t be late. She was used to having to show up on time because of her duties as head cheerleader for the team. She knew the importance of being right where you were supposed to be, right when you were supposed to be there. She’d be as professional about this as she was about her regular job. She wouldn’t be late.
Still, I wondered how close she was going to cut this.
The hotel was attached to a convention and event center, where all kinds of things were put on – concerts, comic book and science fiction conventions, and media events like the one we were doing. The PowerShot people had booked some flavor-of-the-month rock group for the entertainment. My picture and Bama’s would probably end up on their bottles and cans. I was used to that kind of thing, but it would be new for her. The event center was set up for a big dinner and a concert, plus a show of highlights from my games with footage of Bama and the girls edited in, with photo ops for her and me. The hotel was connected to the event center by a big passageway, all enclosed in glass, which had lights strung along it for the evening. I was standing in the lobby near the entrance to the passage. People with cameras were standing by.
There was this old musical my Mom watched one time. Standing there waiting for Bama, I remembered a song from it: “All I Need is the Girl.”
Suddenly, across the lobby, an elevator door opened, and someone stepped out, all dressed in red. Not blazing-hot red, a more smoldering kind of red. A red that said something had been all lit up not long ago and could get lit up again any time.
Her shoes and lipstick matched the dress perfectly. Her hair was all done up to make her look like a princess. Now I’m a guy, mind you, and I’m used to paying more attention to what’s in the clothes than the clothes themselves. And yes, I’m used to thinking how I can get what’s in the clothes out of the clothes, so I can get myself out of my clothes and put what I’ve got under my clothes to work.
But not tonight. Tonight, I was looking at the whole package. And damn, if she wasn’t the most amazing thing I’d ever seen.
I’d never thought about a girl the way I thought about Bama as she came across the lobby, looking like… Hell, I don’t even know how to describe what she looked like. If she’d been wearing white, I would have said she looked like a virgin, coming to me to show her what a man wants to do with a beautiful woman. But, I knew better than that.
The nearest thing I can say about the way she looked was that she was like all the beauty in the world, wrapped up in one flowing red gown. Damn, I’d never thought about a woman this way in my life. Not even the blonde that I thought would be the love of my life until I found out she was using me as a stud in bed and selling out our pictures to the press.
Watching Bama come across the lobby to me made me believe nothing bad or wrong could ever happen with her. I watched her smile as every head in the place turned in her direction. She loved the attention. Looking like that, she deserved the attention.
She wasn’t a cheerleader tonight, dressed up to shout and kick and prance on a football field. She wasn’t dressed to wave pom poms and shake her moneymaker for a lot of guys in the stands with beers and face paint and signs. No, this was another Bama, someone I’d never seen before – someone, maybe, unlike any other woman I’d ever seen anywhere.
And if I dare say it, when she got near enough to look me up and down, standing near the door to the passage in my pressed designer suit, and saw the smile she’d been giving everyone else in the lobby shining right on me, I felt proud to be the one taking her to the event.
It was the damnedest thing. I’d been with so many beautiful women. Taking them out, escorting them places, was the least of what I did with them. It was practically a formality, something to get through until I finally got to what I really wanted.
But for the first time in my life, with Bama coming towards me looking like that, I actually felt proud to have her on my arm and didn’t actually think about having her any other way. It wasn’t just that I’d already done it to her that one time. It was that she looked...special. And as much as it surprised me to catch myself thinking this way, it kind of made me feel like I was special.
It made no sense, of course. I was used to feeling special. And, it wasn’t like we were going to prom or getting married, or anything. It was just a commercial event. It was about selling sports drinks, for God’s sake.
But tonight, I was going to an event to sell sports drinks with a vision.
Before Bama reached my side, the cameras were going off, and she
was smiling for them like it was a halftime show at a stadium. Good for you, Bama, I thought. Good instincts. Work it. When she came to where I was standing, and I held out my hand for her.
She blazed that smile on me and took my hand. I joined my arm with hers, and we did a little turn to face the cameras, smiling together. Vera was standing behind the photographers, smiling approvingly, pleased that we were getting off to a good start. She’d follow behind the press as they followed us through the glass tunnel and into the event center. Going through that tunnel of glass and lights, we’d be like something out of some old bedtime story.
Off we went, flanked by the media and followed by Vera, to where the big night was waiting for us. And if Bama looked like a princess, this was the first time I’d ever felt anything like a prince.
Like I said, it was the damnedest thing.
_______________
The event center was done up appropriately for the evening. There were tables, and on one side of the place there were serving people getting the prepared meals onto plates and pouring the champagne. At another end was the stage with the instruments and the lighting for the band. And, there were PowerShot banners and posters hung up –along with big Dallas Rangers posters showing me in uniform, me at practice, and Bama at halftime. Yep, it was a party, and it was about the product and about us.
I walked in with Bama on my arm. There were guests and dignitaries, and crews from TV stations and networks, already there to greet us. Coming in smiling, we went to work.
I decided to keep Bama close to me. Not that I didn’t think she could handle herself; she’d been interviewed as the head cheerleader before. But I knew Vera would want the media and the public to think of the two of us as a team, which meant working the room together before we sat down.
Bama took it like a pro, bless her. She almost instinctively knew all the right things to say. Maybe Vera had coached her; I didn’t know and hadn’t asked. But, Bama was a natural. She had everyone eating right out of her hands. Once again I was proud of her. She was becoming the center of attention, and if I was honest, I didn’t mind. Being a quarterback, and especially now since winning the Super Bowl, being the center of attention was like second nature to me. It was something I’d probably have for as long as I was playing. I didn’t mind Bama outshining me tonight.
Let her have this, I thought. Maybe something more for her will come from it. Let her have it. Let me be the guy on her arm.
One of the marketing guys from PowerShot took Bama aside to talk to some other VIP, and she gave me this little look to make sure it was okay. I gave her a little look back to say, Go for it. You’ve got this. And as she stepped away from me, our hands stayed together for a moment. It was like she was a kite and my arm was the string. Then she let go and went off with the marketing guy, flying solo now, and I knew she’d be all right. She had this, for sure.
As soon as Bama was on her way, there was a tap on my shoulder.
I looked behind me, into the face of a man about my father’s age with thinning hair. Beauregard “Bo” Remington smiled at me and said, “Evening, Barrett. Good to see you again, son.”
Mr. Remington, who insisted I call him Bo, was someone I’d known for years. He was a friend of my father’s. And, as my English Composition professor in school used to say, “therein lies a story.”
The story, in a nutshell, was that Mr. Remington had a very beautiful daughter named Kim. And Kim had a unique place in my life. Kim Remington was the one and only beautiful girl I’d ever met that I’d never taken to bed. I’d screwed them all – except one. The one who’d never seen my dick was Kim Remington.
It wasn’t because I didn’t want to screw her. I absolutely would have slipped her the old Porter wood...if she wasn’t the daughter of my father’s friend. I’d kept my dick to myself with Kim because her dad knew my dad, and when I moved on and her feelings were hurt, it would mean trouble between my father’s friend and me. And that would mean it would get back to my father, and that would mean I’d have to deal with my father. And, I hated dealing with the old man.
We hadn’t spoken in years, and I was just as happy knowing we wouldn’t speak for more years yet. He was out of my life, and I was fine with it. To keep the old man out of my life, I made a point of keeping my cock out from between the legs of his friend’s daughter.
The trouble was that Bo Remington liked me. And every so often, Bo and I crossed paths, and I’d have to deal with how much he liked me – for his daughter. I hadn’t counted on having to handle Bo Remington tonight, but here he was, as inevitable as death and taxes. Great; everything had been perfect right up to this point.
“Hey, Mr. Remington,” I said, squirming inside. “Uh...hello.”
Bo held out his hand, chuckling at me, and said, “May I have the honor of shaking the hand of this year’s Super Bowl Champion?”
I shook hands with the guy, if only to speed things up to the first chance to brush him off. “Thanks, that’s very kind,” I said. “But, it was the team. We’re the champions, Mr. Remington.”
Taking back his hand and pointing at mine, he said, “How modest you are, with the championship ring on your finger. And may I remind you, it’s Bo.”
“Right. Bo,” I humored him. Referring to the ring, I brought up, “We’ve all got these, you know.”
“Sure you do,” he said as he grinned. “But on you, it means more. You’re the leader. You led your team to victory in the championship game. Kim and I were watching the game together, you know. She was so proud of you, playing the Super Bowl in your home city. And, she just about turned cartwheels at the winning play. I told her, ‘Honey, you ought to try out for those Dallas Rangers Cheerleaders yourself!’”
He chuckled some more while my stomach turned. “Oh, shucks, boy, you should have seen Kim that day,” he continued. “She was on the phone with all her girlfriends, jumping up and down, telling ‘em about how proud she was of you.
“And she kept asking me, ‘Daddy, when are you gonna invite Barrett up to the house for supper?’ And ‘Daddy, when are you gonna have Barrett come over for drinks’? She’s been so anxious to see you again. I told her, ‘Sweetheart, I see Barrett every now and again, and I’ll be sure and remind him about you when I do.’ That girl is so sweet on you, son. So sweet.”
I grinned politely at Bo. Yes, Kim was sweet, all right. Sweet and sticky as molasses, I thought.
She had to know my reputation, the same as everyone did. She had to know how much I’d been around, how many beds I’d been in with how many women. And, Kim Remington, sure as shooting, thought of me the way a big game hunter thinks about a rhinoceros. To bag the stud who’d bagged all those women, and have him for herself must be the ultimate prize to her. She knew damn good and well that out of all the women I’d ever met, she was the one and only woman that I’d never dropped trousers for, and that was a situation she meant to change – for keeps.
My patience was getting thinner than a lace nightie that Kim Remington would probably want me to slip off her, and all I could think about was how to untangle myself from this conversation that I didn’t feel like having with a guy that I didn’t feel like talking to.
The only question was how to shed this guy. It shouldn’t be so hard, considering why we were all here this evening. While Bo droned on with stories of Kim and what she was doing and how much she’d loved going out with me, I started looking around for Bama. She should be wherever the men in the place gathered thickest; all I had to do was find the spot that men were gravitating towards.
There!
A few yards away was a bunch of guys clustering around a familiar, shapely figure in red. And, one of them in particular seemed to be paying her extra-special attention. If this were some old cartoon, I thought, his head would disappear for a second and a wolf’s head would take its place. This guy’s type was familiar. He was tall, good-looking, and built, but he was an actor or model, not an athlete.
Watching this character hover over B
ama like a helicopter made me burn. She was supposed to be with me tonight, and I had better things to do than have Bo Remington try to hook me up with his daughter. Luckily, I had the perfect excuse to cut off my dad’s old buddy. Quickly, I turned my attention back to babbling Bo.
“Mr. Remington-” I began.
“Son, Bo, remember? Bo.”
“Um...yeah, Bo. Right. Listen, I’m really here working tonight. This is fun, but really it’s a job that I’m supposed to be doing with Bama over there, and I can’t neglect her. If you don’t mind, I ought to get back to her.”
And even as I started away from him, Bo Remington called after me, “Right, promoting the sports drink. Sure, I understand. Listen, son, I’ll make sure and mention to Kim that I saw you tonight. She’ll get such a kick out of that. I’ll tell her you said hi.”
Moving away more quickly, I called behind me, “Yeah, do that, thanks!” and shoved Bo Remington and his clingy daughter the hell out of my head while making a beeline right for Bama and the hanger-on who wouldn’t be hanging on to her tonight if I had anything to say about it.
I got to where all those guys were buzzing like bees around Bama, and they all smartly stepped to one side when they saw me coming – except for Mr. 8-by-10-Glossy Headshot. She was smiling and being polite to him, but I could tell – and she probably could, too – that he was peeling the red dress off him with his eyes.
Better keep your eyes to yourself, and your hands, too, if you know what’s good for you, I growled at him in my head.
When I reached Bama again, she grinned broadly at me and introduced the glossy guy and sounding impressed, “Barrett, have you met Kevin Delaney? He’s on that daytime soap, Restless Hospital.”
Frankly, I didn’t know this clown from Adam and didn’t care who he was. If he didn’t watch himself, he could end up playing a patient on his own show. I very insincerely told him, “Nice to meet you.”