Chapter Twenty-One

Trey

In my life, I’d tried a bunch of shit. I’d been drunk off my ass on more than a few occasions, tried pills that I didn’t even know the name of, and had snorted a little coke at a couple of wild parties. But I’d never gotten hooked on anything. I could always walk away from the bar. Didn’t need pills or injections or powder to keep me going. But, in the two days since Josie walked out of my hotel room, I’d been jonesin’. Big time.

She was under my skin and living in my head. It didn’t matter what I did or where I went, she was there, naggin’ at the back of my brain. I’d even went out, just grabbing a bite to eat, post practice with Cody, Robby, and a few of the other guys, and thought for sure I’d seen her across the room at the bar. I chased the poor woman down, calling out Josie’s name, only to rear back a few seconds later, realizing it wasn’t her at all. In the end, I signed an autograph, smiled for a picture, and the woman went on her way with one crazy ass story about a psycho ball player for her friends at a corner booth.

Cody and Robby hadn’t shut up about it since.

“Hey, Delgado, you wanna go get a bite? Maybe find your mystery reporter again,” Cody teased, grinning over at Robby across the locker room.

I slammed my locker shut. “Fuck off, Wright. I’m not in the mood.”

Robby and Cody exchanged looks and Robby sauntered over, a towel wrapped around his waist. He plopped on the bench and slapped his hands together. “All right, Delgado, spill your guts. What’s got your panties in a bunch?”

Cody nodded, slipped a team tee shirt on, and sat beside Robby, careful to put a few inches between them. “No kidding. You fuckin’ sucked ass in practice today. If you don’t watch yourself, Coach is gonna pull you into his office and rip ya a new one. Trust me, man, you do not wanna go there.”

Robby chuckled and scrubbed a small hand towel over his wet hair. When he finished, he shook off the last of the water and Cody punched him in the ribs for splattering on him.

“You two are one stooge short of a good time,” I commented, my voice dry and humorless. “I don’t need Dr. Phil, all right? Just leave me alone.”

I started to turn away and was surprised when a strong hand wrapped around my arm. I craned around and saw Cody had stood up in time to nab me. “What the fuck, man?” I growled, shaking him off.

His eyes went wide. “Come on, dude. We’re friends, aren’t we? Why can’t you tell us what’s eating you? You’re fucking up the game.”

“Dude, we’re not gonna sell you out to Coach or the media or whatever the fuck it is you’re worried about. Hell, I won’t even tell Paris if you’re that worried about it going viral.”

Cody waited a beat until I sighed and turned back to face them, then he sank back down beside Robby. “We’re serious, man, what the fuck’s going on?” he added.

I heaved another sigh and scrubbed a hand over my face. “It’s all this shit with the she-devil.”

“She-devil?”

“Yeah, Kimberly, she’s the devil. Like, for real. She’s this crazy bitch who claims that she had my baby.”

“Huh?” They both said in unison. I figured they’d heard the gossip online or through the Warriors wives and girlfriends’ grapevine. Apparently they hadn’t.

“Some dumb bitch who claims she had my baby. She’s got my lawyers running in circles, constantly having to shut shit down. She’s spreading lies all over the internet about me. Basically any news channel that’ll give her ten seconds of fame, she’s there. It’s fuckin’ exhausting.”

“And the kid isn’t yours?” Cody asked, cringing slightly, as though he hated to even ask.

I shrugged. “Hell, I guess he could be, but we used protection both times. She’d fucked her way through half of my old team before I even knew she was knocked up. I don’t know why the hell she’s targeting me. She’s fuckin’ evil. She’s blocked attempts to get a DNA test, says it will hurt the baby or some shit.” I paused and shook my head. It was all so stupid. “She just wants my money. I think she’s hoping if she makes enough noise, I’ll just sign over my rights, agree to a settlement and child support, and agree to whatever she says just to get her to go away.”

Robby scoffed. “Gold digging bitch.”

“Yeah. Like she could teach classes to all the other hoes. I don’t get it…fuckin’ pointless.”

“So, just forget about it, man.” Cody shook his head, glancing from Robby to me and back again. “I mean, she’s just fuckin’ with your head. You can’t let her screw up your performance and get you down.”

I flexed my jaw but gave a short nod. “I know. I mean, it’s not just that, but yeah. I just got a call from my lawyer and my agent before practice and it wasn’t good news. That’s why I was shit today.”

Cody and Robby each glanced down at their hands. Another beat later, Cody hopped up and slapped me on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s go BBQ or something. Chelsea has some steaks at the house. We can grill, drink some beer, watch some football and just chill the fuck out.”

“Oh! I have some Cubans, my cousin’s friends—” he paused and waved it off. “Nevermind. Point is, I got the good shit! I’m down. Paris and Chelsea can go shop or whatever the hell they wanna do.”

Cody chuckled. “Yeah. Good luck, Paris. Chelsea’s back to being locked in her office twelve hours a day.”

Robby pulled a face and Cody laughed. I had no idea what they were talking about but it didn’t matter. They were probably right. A night out would do me some good and if we were at Cody and Chelsea’s place, I couldn’t get all screwed up, thinking I’d seen Josie when there wasn’t anyone there.

“You in?” Robby asked, stripping off his towel.

Cody and I groaned as he waved his fuckin’ junk around, and Cody snapped him with his own discarded towel. I chuckled. “Yeah, I’m in. I’ll meet you guys there in half an hour.”

“Sounds good, man. I’ll text you the directions.”

“Got it!” I waved and headed out of the locker room.

* * * *

As soon as I got into my rental car, my phone rang through the Bluetooth on the dashboard. I’d had it turned off during practice, after the nasty calls from my lawyer and Mason, and hadn’t turned the sound back up again. I tugged it free from the pocket of my duffel bag and groaned. “Speak of the fuckin’ devil…”

She’d been calling me all day. Each time from a different number. She went through burner phones like most people went through underwear. It was annoying as all hell. I didn’t want to talk to her. I’d made that fact implicitly known several times over the last year since this nightmare ended. I rubbed a hand through my hair, tugging at it slightly. Fuck. It was never gonna end. She was never going to leave me alone.

Something inside of me snapped. All my resolve and self-control vanished in a flash. I grabbed my phone, slammed the tip of my finger against the damn button, and growled, “What the fuck do you want?”

“Some way to answer your phone…” she drawled, her tone oh-so-innocent.

That was another infuriating thing about Kimberly. She always had this wide-eyed kitten look on her face which made me look like a crazy asshole anytime I raised my voice at her in public. Over the past year she’d popped up at baseball games, outside the locker rooms, the mall, my front porch, my favorite coffee shop back in LA. She didn’t work and apparently had nothing better to do with her time than stalk me all over California. I hadn’t seen her since moving to Oklahoma City—one of the only good things about leaving my home—but her shadow followed me wherever I went. I was always aware of the fact that she could pop out from nowhere. Or, worry that she would call me. On top of all that shit, I also had to see her friggin’ face plastered all over the tabloids at airport shops, grocery stores, kiosks at the mall. Whatever. She’d sold her sad little tale of the poor, used woman, and claimed all manner of crazy things about me and her and our alleged relationship. And those damn kitten eyes sold it to perfection.

No one ever gave me a chance to explain who she really was.

Not that they’d probably believe me even if I got someone to listen for more than a sound bite.

“Kimberly, I swear to—”

“Okay! Okay! Trey…” She made a clucking sound with her tongue, like an impatient mother dealing with a tantrum. “I want to talk. That’s it.”

I scowled out the windshield. She wanted to talk. Yeah. Sure. My ass that’s all she wanted. Nailed to a post outside her house for all the world to see and throw rocks at. “Talk.”

“When are you going to come meet Trey Jr?” she asked, her voice too sweet.

I scoffed. “You know that’s never happening. What do you really want to talk about? You have two minutes.”

“That’s all you have time for, huh? Big, important baseball man can’t give the mother of his child more than two fucking minutes?”

I tossed my head back. Yup, there she was. Ladies and gents, the real Kimberly.

“I keep forgetting that you’re a heartless monster who doesn’t care about anything, or anyone, but himself,” she raged, her voice angry and raw.

“Kimberly, I never gave two shits about you and I certainly don’t give two shits about your kid. He’s not mine. You know it just as well as I do. That’s why you won’t take the fucking test. You know it will come back negative and all those fucking people who love you right now, they’ll all turn their backs on you, and then you’ll be the heartless monster for dragging me and said child through this shit for over a fuckin’ year!”

She let out a cold laugh. “Is that what you think? Wow…Trey…baby…I knew you weren’t in genius territory, but that’s sad, even for you. The media loves me. My phone rings off the hook, all day, every day, begging for interviews and pictures of me and your son.”

“He’s not my son,” I argued through gritted teeth. My hand wrapped around the steering wheel to keep from punching it. “Let’s go back to my original question, what do you want?”

Kimberly sighed. “I need a new car. Something sporty but safe for Trey Jr.”

“Stop calling him that.”

“I was thinking of the new Mercedes crossover…” she prattled on, debating different cars, each one with a higher price tag than the last.

“Then use your money from selling your soul to the media. Surely you didn’t walk away empty handed. Or, are you really just so desperate for your fifteen minutes of fame, that you did all those press things for free?”

She was quiet for a long moment. “Well…I got paid…but…”

“But, what? You already fuckin’ spent it?”

“I need a car! That’s all that matters, Trey. You should give a shit that your son is going around in something safe!”

To stop the madness, I sat up straight and interrupted her, “I’ll happily buy you a car, Kimberly.”

“You will?”

I laughed. “Uh huh. Sure will. As soon as the damn test comes back that says he’s my son. Then I’ll buy him a mansion by the ocean, a life size giraffe stuffed animal, a whole closet full of Nike baby shoes, whatever the fuck he wants. But…not a minute before I have that damned test in my hands!”

Kimberly scoffed. “You shouldn’t need a test.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah? Well, I do. Deal with it.”

“My lawyer is advising me to not have the test done.”

I laughed, a true, deep down, belly laugh. “Well, of course not, you dumb ass!”

“What?” she sneered. “You’re cocky because you paid off the lab tech or somethin’?”

I turned the key in the ignition. “How could I do that when I don’t know what clinic the lawyer would even send your sorry ass to? Fuck, Kimberly. You wanna claim I’m such a damned idiot, have you looked in a fuckin’ mirror lately? Take the test, if he’s mine, I’ll get you whatever the fuck you want.”

I clicked off the call and chucked my phone at the passenger seat so hard that it bounced off the seat and flew down to the floor.

I knew my words were probably already out the other ear by now, but I’d had to try. I was so ready for the never ending nightmare to finally be over. Maybe then I could really settle into my new life in Oklahoma and see what the future might bring.