“How could I have missed it? I even turned down that twat, Alton Alston, after he begged for a spot on my roster. And you know why? It’s because I don’t take on high risk clients. He has too many baby mommas for my liking. But you…you!” He clapped his hands again. “You were a far more enticing prospect for some reason. But again, how could I have missed this proclivity?” He cupped his chin femininely. “Perhaps it was the fact that you garnered two major endorsement deals in less than a year that seduced me!” he answered himself.
“Ches.” I tossed my hand in the air. “I don’t have time for theories and bullshit. I need to put this plan in action.”
He didn’t immediately react. Things went quiet.
“Mmmmmhmmm,” he muttered while holding his chin with his left hand and hugging himself with his right. “And what did you plan to gain by doing this? How did you do this?”
There he goes again, yelling. I sat back in my seat and gave him a sideways glance.
“I think it’s obvious that I’m trying to have a baby.” I tossed my hand in the air once more. “And I ain’t speaking a fucking detail of how I impregnated a woman. If you don’t know, you won’t find out from me today.”
“Details? No, Mr. Rogers,” he whispered angrily. “I mean no disrespect, but this is not a scouting report where your brain is limited to mastering. This detail is of utmost importance. I need to at least know what you did to impregnate her,” he fucking enunciated each syllable.
“I…” Frustrated, I drug my hands down my face. This was turning out to be more difficult than I thought. “I fucked with the condom. Put the biggest hole in it. Twice. Then I…uhhh…went without…a couple of times.”
Chesney wildly swung his fist in the air. “Son of a bitch!” he screamed into the air.
So fucking dramatic!
His face was red and his thin lips were covering his teeth, he was damn irritated.
Then he hopped in my face, but at a nonthreatening proximity. “What if your plan doesn’t go as you hoped? What if the child is born with defects? What if she dies giving birth? What if—for crying out loud—she isn’t pregnant? What if she was pregnant by Corey, the stocker, at her local Super-Save, but boning you?” He took a minute to catch his breath. “Have you thought about these things?”
I took a minute to consider those scenarios and then thought about Zoey. She’s smart and brilliant in so many ways, but na?ve in many others. I tried not to laugh in Chesney’s burgundy face. He’d likely have a damn heart attack. So, I tried to level with him.
“Chesney, there are a lot of things about this: convoluted, and some may say, fucking—”
“Absurd,” he interrupted me. “Fucking absurd is what it is, my dear Stenton.” He swung his neck back and forth.
“Okay…absurd idea, but the last thing I was so sure about was deciding to declare my eligibility for the NBA. I want this baby, by this woman, right away before…” I caught myself.
Chesney, not skipping a beat, leaped in the damn air and crowded my personal space. “Before what? What are you not telling me?”
“Before she blossoms into a full woman and realizes my vices and how I’m the last person she wants to be tied to for the rest of her life.” I couldn’t believe I admitted that one out loud.
The crazy thing about selfishly plotting on people’s lives is that you can’t share it. It’s something you have to keep to yourself. Your insanities should be closeted, hidden from the world. But this crazy plan had legal detailing that I needed Chesney to assist with, so why the fuck not let it all hang?
I looked up to see Chesney’s eyes fluttering and his mouth hanging open while he squatted in front of my chair, looking like he was taking a shit in his $3,000 designer suit.
“How old is she?” he squeaked out painfully.
I took a deep breath, prepared to tell it all, and muttered, “Twenty-one.”
He pulled his hands together vertically and mouthed, “Thank you, God.” Then he combed his hair with his hand as he looked back at his desk. Chesney grabbed a pencil and legal pad and sat in the chair next to me.
“Before we get started, I need to know everyone you’ve shared this with. Every soul, Stenton,” he demanded.
I found my face wrinkled as I answered, “No one. You know I don’t discuss personal shit with anybody.”