Quarterback's Secret Baby(72)

December saw a series of parties. Not parties, that word was no longer accurate. Galas. Events. A lot of them were for charities supported by the Cowboys - and as their breakout star it was my job to make a smiling, enthusiastic appearance at each and every one. Barry messaged me a couple of days before the biggest gala, and event to which all the movers and shakers had been invited, to raise money for the local children's hospital.

"You should bring a girl."

I messaged back: "Why?"

Less than sixty seconds later, my phone rang. Barry. The guy didn't waste time.

"Kaden, hey man. Yeah, as I was saying, bring a girl to the gala on Saturday. You got someone in mind?"

"No," I told him, slightly exasperated. "I've only had two minutes to think about it, though, that might be why."

"Well, either way Kaden, the point is to bring a girl. OK?"

I hesitated. Barry was always like this, insisting I do this or that with little to no explanation. "Uh, OK," I said. "But, why? Is it some kind of rule?"

There was an audible sigh from Barry. "No," he replied, "it's not a rule. But you haven't been photographed with a woman - and your mom doesn't count - since you moved here. People are starting to talk."

"Oh are they?" I laughed. "What, like, I might be gay or something?"

"To be blunt, Barlow, yes. And I'd be lying if I said this wasn't about the sponsorships - they always like a high-profile romance with a pretty girl - but it's about your career as well, in general. You're a big fat star, my man. The NFL wants to use you in this capacity. What they don't want is rumors."

"Jesus Christ," I said. "Really, Barry? So what if I am gay?"

Barry was silent for a few seconds. When he spoke, I could tell he was choosing his words carefully. "Uh, well, Kaden, you, um - are you?"

"No!" I yelled, laughing my head off. "This is so stupid!"

"It may be stupid to you but it's my job to advise you and that's what I'm doing. Bring a girl. A pretty one. She doesn't have to be your actual girlfriend, she just needs to wear something sexy but tasteful and stand beside you on the red carpet with a smile on her face. Can you do that?"

A red carpet. I wish someone - anyone - had mentioned to me that being a football star was about half football and half schmoozing.

"Sure, fine," I conceded. "I'll bring a girl."

"She has to be pretty, Kaden. No trolls."

I rolled my eyes. "You're a piece of work, Barry, you know that?"

"Yep, I know it. Call me when you have someone in mind, I'll get Angela to find her a dress and deal with all that girl stuff."

Angela was Barry's long-suffering assistant. "Sure. OK. Yeah, I'll let you know."

We hung up and I lay back on the wide leather expanse of the newly-purchased, custom-made sofa I'd bought for the living room. Regular sized sofas didn't cut it in a room so big it was more gymnasium then relaxing space. Fuck. Who to invite? Any woman in America would have said yes, I knew that. But I didn't want to show up with some stranger, that would have been awkward. And I knew without a shadow of a doubt that Tasha would have said no. Politely, of course, but no all the same. There was only one other real prospect. I dialed Jess's number and, thankfully, she agreed. She seemed to think it was the funniest thing that had ever happened.

"Really?" She asked, giggling. "You have to bring a girl so they don't all think you're gay? That's so ridiculous, Kaden. What year is it?"

"I know, I know," I told her. "But Barry was insistent. Besides, it'll be fun. You can get all dressed up and then drink free champagne all night."

"Ugh, I don't even like champagne."

"Then I'll insist they only serve you Jack Daniels in a coffee mug, then. Just like at Brooks."

So I flew Jess out to attend the gala and we had a great time. Back then I was still pretty naive about the media, too, so it actually came as something of a shock when the next day the papers and internet gossip sites were all talking about Kaden Barlow and his girlfriend. They also managed to publish only the shots where I had my arm around her or the cameras had managed to catch one of us smiling at the other. It was annoying, and my first thought was actually about Tasha. I shut that down pretty quickly, though, because why would Tasha care? She'd been more than clear that our night together was a one-time thing. Still, the thought of her seeing those photos - and they were everywhere so I knew she probably would, even if it was just while she waited in line at the grocery store - bothered me. I tried to broach the subject with Barry but he shot me down when I suggested releasing a statement that she was just a friend.