Long: A Secret Baby Sports Romance(18)

My hometown was nothing like MD. My hometown was worse than the area around MD, actually. I came from a poor neighborhood where the idea of working a normal job all day long seemed absurd. People were more interested in making moonshine than money.

But I’d gotten out of that. I’d worked my ass off and gotten away. I left that all behind when I stepped off the bus three years ago. Or so I had thought up until I spoke with my father again.

My phone rang again. It was a number I didn’t recognize.

“Hello?”

“Gibson Evans,” the man said. “Do you know who this is?”

I had a guess. “Johnny.”

“How are you, kid?”

“I’m okay. You?”

“Good. I see your old man all the time still. We all root for you down here, you know.”

“Thanks. I appreciate that.”

“But listen, what can I do for you? It’s a little unusual for me, you know, getting a call from you.”

“I know that. I actually need some help.”

There was a pause. “What kind of help?”

“I need a loan.”

“I’m a bookie, kid. I don’t do loans.”

“I know that. But you work for an organization, right?”

“I do.”

“And they do loans.”

“Yeah. Some of them do.”

“I was hoping you could point me in the direction of someone who does loans. Someone local. Maybe someone in Chicago.”

“We have people there.” He paused again. “Look, kid, I don’t know if I should be doing this. You’d be better off going to a bank, you know? I shouldn’t say that, but it’s the truth.”

“If I could go to a bank, I would, but I need money fast and I don’t have any other options. I’m pretty limited.”

“Okay, kid,” he said. “I’ll look around and get back to you. Sit tight.”

“Thanks, Johnny.”

“Don’t thank me, and don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He hung up the phone.

I sighed and slipped my cell back into my pocket. That was what I had wanted, and he’d promised to help, but it didn’t feel good. In fact, it felt pretty fucked up. Even the mobster was trying to warn me away from getting involved with the fucking mob.

But what other choice did I have? I needed money to help Avery, and I needed it fast. I could pay them back when I got into the NFL. It wouldn’t be too long.

They’d give me the money. They had to. As far as I could tell, everyone was dying to get something from me.

The mob was going to love the chance to get me in their debt.

I stood up, my legs sore from the morning session. Campus didn’t look so serene or beautiful anymore. I started walking back to my apartment.





8





Avery





I stood outside the house, the booming bass music spilling out from the half-open windows, and felt nervous.

The last house party I was at, I ended up having sex with Gibson in his truck and getting pregnant. All I needed to do was not get pregnant again, and it would be a much more successful night all right. But I was still nervous for some stupid reason.

“We don’t have to go in,” Harper said.

“I know,” I said. “I want to, though.”

“Sure you do. I’m just saying, we can turn around and leave.”

I sighed and shook my head. “Come on. Let’s go.”

She smiled at me as we headed up the front steps. I knocked on the door and some drunk kid in a polo shirt answered. He just cheered as we walked into the mayhem that was the party.

It was only ten thirty and the place was already raging. There had to be at least fifty people crammed into that space. Up ahead in the kitchen was a keg manned by a large guy in a football jersey. People were milling about in small groups, and people were even coming up and down the steps. The house itself looked too nice to be owned by a college student, so I guessed it was another alumni thing.

“Do you see him?” I asked Harper.

She shook her head. “Come on. Let’s check out back.”

I followed her through the crowd. I didn’t recognize a single person there, but all the girls looked familiar. They were basically all thin, blond, and dressed like they were going to some upscale nightclub. I felt out of place, but I’d come too far to turn back.

Harper pushed through the back door. Outside, the night was cool. Smokers stood in small groups, and in the very center of the backyard, a shirtless guy whooped and shouted as another shirtless guy drank the beer bong he held up proudly.

I looked at Harper. “Unless that’s him taking a beer bong, I don’t think he’s out here.”

She laughed. “I don’t know. Maybe he gained some weight.”