Nobody's Baby but Mine(13)

“I was playing ball. I didn’t have time for that shit. Besides, we’re not talking about that now. We’re talking about the fact that it’s the Bomber’s birthday, we got him the best freakin’ present money could buy, and he wants to freakin’ pass!”

“It’s because she’s too old,” Willie exclaimed. “I told you we should have gone for somebody younger, but y’all kept sayin’ how she wasn’t supposed to remind him of Kelly. She’s only twenty-four, Cal. Honest.”

Just like that, she’d lost another year.

“You can’t pass.” Chris stepped forward, a belligerent look in his eyes. “She’s your birthday present. You got to fu—er—bonk her.”

Her skin grew hot, and since she couldn’t be caught blushing, she turned away and pretended to study the living room. Its low-pile white carpet, gray sectional sofa, stereo equipment, and large-screen television were expensive but uninteresting. She noticed various containers tossed down on the carpet: a plastic cup, a KFC bucket, an empty cereal box. In addition to being a hayseed, Mr. Bonner was a slob, but since messiness wasn’t genetic, it didn’t concern her.

He flipped the golf putter he’d been holding from one hand to the other. “Tell you what, guys. People exchange presents all the time. How about I trade her in for a steak dinner?”

He couldn’t do that! She would never find anyone more perfect to father her child.

“Shit, Bomber, she cost a hell of a lot more than a steak dinner!”

She wondered how much. Junior had handed her the money, which she’d tucked into her purse without looking, then slid under the front seat of her car. First thing tomorrow, she’d donate every dollar to the college scholarship fund.

He drained the liquor in his glass. “I appreciate the thought, guys, but I guess I just don’t feel like having a whore tonight.”

Anger hit her like a molecular collision. How dare he talk about her like that! Her emotions sometimes betrayed her, but her mind seldom did, and now it was shouting at her to do something. She couldn’t give up this easily. He was ideal, and somehow she had to find a way to make him change his mind. Yes, he was physically terrifying, and she didn’t believe he would be a gentle lover, but a few minutes rough handling wouldn’t kill her, and hadn’t she chosen him because he was her opposite in every way?

“Aw, come on, Bomber,” Willie said. “She’s hot. I’m getting hard just looking at her.”

“Then take her.” Bonner jerked his head toward the hallway. “You know where the spare bedroom is.”

“No!”

They all turned to stare at her.

She thought of his cornpone accent and reminded herself that he wasn’t anything more than a simpleminded football player. The pills gave her courage. All she had to do was outwit him. “I’m not a piece of meat that gets passed around. I work under exclusive contract, and my contract calls for me to practice my craft only with Mr. Bonner.” Avoiding his eyes, she looked toward the other men. “Why don’t you gentlemen leave now so he and I can discuss this privately?”

“Yeah, why don’t we do that,” Melvin said. “Come on, guys.”

He didn’t have to convince them. They rushed toward the foyer with a speed that was at odds with their size.

Melvin turned back to her at the last minute. “We expect our money’s worth, Rose. You give Bomber the works, you hear? Anything he wants.”

She gulped and nodded. A moment later, the front door slammed shut.

She and the man they called the Bomber were alone.





Jane watched the Stars’ quarterback refill his glass from a bottle sitting on the coffee table. As he raised the tumbler to his lips, he studied her with pale piercing eyes that looked as if they could carry out a scorched-earth campaign all by themselves.

She had to come up with some way to seduce him before he threw her out, but what? She could simply strip off her clothes, but since her small-breasted body wasn’t exactly pinup quality, that might be the quickest way to get thrown out. Besides, it was hard to get enthusiastic about undressing in front of a stranger who was standing in a fully lit room that had a wall of curtainless windows. When she’d envisioned the nudity part of this, she’d imagined someplace very dark.

“You might as well go on with ’em, Rosebud. I believe I told you I ain’t much for hookers.”

His atrocious grammar renewed her commitment. With every one of his linguistic mistakes, her unborn child’s IQ dropped another few points.

She stalled for time. “I’ve always found it inadvisable to stereotype any group of people.”