Quarterback's Surprise Baby (Bad Boy Ballers Book 2) Read Online Free
Author: Imani King
mirror built into the shower wall. Gotta look extra impressive for my appointment with the lawyer today.
It's not going to be easy to seem contrite in this situation, but that's only because I'm just so very fucking angry. I don't know how I'm going to convince anyone that I never laid a hand on Sabrina with the background I’m saddled with, but the fact is I didn't. I would never. I get all my aggressions out on the field, where I'm supposed to. I don't hit women.
I catch myself in the full-length mirror as I dry off. Tattoos, ripped muscles, massive, powerful body. It's pretty tough for people to see me and realize that I'm not the intimidating hulk I might appear to be. They judge a book by its cover. And it's always been that way. Ever since I was a little boy.
* * *
“ G ryphon James !” I start out of a sound sleep. “Come to the front of the class!”
Oh, shit. I’m caught. I pull my too big, lanky body from the small desk and walk up to the front of the room, careful not to hit my sore muscles and to keep my head up. My foster dad was wailing on me last night, and he may have done some real damage this time—going by the stiffness and pain, at least.
“Hurry up, young man,” growls Miss Emory. You’d think a woman in a flowered shirt and a cardigan couldn’t sound this threatening, but Miss Emory makes it an art.
“Yes ma'am,” I answer. I'm terrified, but I force myself not to show it—gotta keep a strong front. I quicken my pace a bit. Darryl in the second row sticks out his foot, trying to trip me but I kick him instead, earning myself another demerit. Christ, two more, and I get detention for a week. Which means another beating from “Dad”.
She hands me the chalk. “Now do you want to show us how to do this problem?” Endless numbers and symbols cover the green board. I'm not at all sure which one she means. I rub the back of my neck with my hand. “Yes ma'am,” I answer again in hopes that the answer will become clear if I stare at it long enough.
But instead of becoming clearer, the numbers start to blur due to the tears that are welling in my eyes. The tapping of her foot punctuates my thoughts.
“Well, Gryphon?” Her ‘teacher voice’ is in full effect, with all its nuances of disapproval. “You don't know how to do it, do you?” I hide a sniffle under a cough. “Perhaps you shouldn't be such a good for nothing, always sleeping in class!” Her voice is strangely triumphant and whiny.
I take aim at her. “Perhaps if you were a better teacher, I wouldn't,” I shoot back, and drop the chalk in front of her. Shit. I've done it now. I'm going to get whooped again tonight. After a moment of stunned silence, the class erupts in jeers and laughter as I strut back to my desk. Darryl's foot stays where it is under his chair, though he makes sure to give me a grim look.
I do an exaggerated bow at my desk, putting my hands in front of my stomach.
Miss Emory is none too happy with me. She scribbles furiously at her desk before holding a piece of paper out to me.
“Take this to the principal's office,” she spits. “Gryphon James, if you don’t remember any other single thing from my class, just remember this: you'll never amount to anything .”
“Why don't you tell me something I don't know,” I ask her, as I rip the paper from her hand. The kids hoot and holler.
As I leave the room, she says to the other children, “Now let this be a lesson to you kids. Do not think you should be like Gryphon James. You may think he's cool, but no matter what he does, he's always going to be a low-class good-for-nothing.”
Alone in the hall, I fight back the tears and then I punch the next locker I see, leaving a small fist-sized dent in it. I don't know how to win in this world.
* * *
A nd win is exactly what I have to do with this Sabrina situation. That bitch is trying to steal everything I’ve worked for, everything I've managed to achieve through all the years of working my
It's not going to be easy to seem contrite in this situation, but that's only because I'm just so very fucking angry. I don't know how I'm going to convince anyone that I never laid a hand on Sabrina with the background I’m saddled with, but the fact is I didn't. I would never. I get all my aggressions out on the field, where I'm supposed to. I don't hit women.
I catch myself in the full-length mirror as I dry off. Tattoos, ripped muscles, massive, powerful body. It's pretty tough for people to see me and realize that I'm not the intimidating hulk I might appear to be. They judge a book by its cover. And it's always been that way. Ever since I was a little boy.
* * *
“ G ryphon James !” I start out of a sound sleep. “Come to the front of the class!”
Oh, shit. I’m caught. I pull my too big, lanky body from the small desk and walk up to the front of the room, careful not to hit my sore muscles and to keep my head up. My foster dad was wailing on me last night, and he may have done some real damage this time—going by the stiffness and pain, at least.
“Hurry up, young man,” growls Miss Emory. You’d think a woman in a flowered shirt and a cardigan couldn’t sound this threatening, but Miss Emory makes it an art.
“Yes ma'am,” I answer. I'm terrified, but I force myself not to show it—gotta keep a strong front. I quicken my pace a bit. Darryl in the second row sticks out his foot, trying to trip me but I kick him instead, earning myself another demerit. Christ, two more, and I get detention for a week. Which means another beating from “Dad”.
She hands me the chalk. “Now do you want to show us how to do this problem?” Endless numbers and symbols cover the green board. I'm not at all sure which one she means. I rub the back of my neck with my hand. “Yes ma'am,” I answer again in hopes that the answer will become clear if I stare at it long enough.
But instead of becoming clearer, the numbers start to blur due to the tears that are welling in my eyes. The tapping of her foot punctuates my thoughts.
“Well, Gryphon?” Her ‘teacher voice’ is in full effect, with all its nuances of disapproval. “You don't know how to do it, do you?” I hide a sniffle under a cough. “Perhaps you shouldn't be such a good for nothing, always sleeping in class!” Her voice is strangely triumphant and whiny.
I take aim at her. “Perhaps if you were a better teacher, I wouldn't,” I shoot back, and drop the chalk in front of her. Shit. I've done it now. I'm going to get whooped again tonight. After a moment of stunned silence, the class erupts in jeers and laughter as I strut back to my desk. Darryl's foot stays where it is under his chair, though he makes sure to give me a grim look.
I do an exaggerated bow at my desk, putting my hands in front of my stomach.
Miss Emory is none too happy with me. She scribbles furiously at her desk before holding a piece of paper out to me.
“Take this to the principal's office,” she spits. “Gryphon James, if you don’t remember any other single thing from my class, just remember this: you'll never amount to anything .”
“Why don't you tell me something I don't know,” I ask her, as I rip the paper from her hand. The kids hoot and holler.
As I leave the room, she says to the other children, “Now let this be a lesson to you kids. Do not think you should be like Gryphon James. You may think he's cool, but no matter what he does, he's always going to be a low-class good-for-nothing.”
Alone in the hall, I fight back the tears and then I punch the next locker I see, leaving a small fist-sized dent in it. I don't know how to win in this world.
* * *
A nd win is exactly what I have to do with this Sabrina situation. That bitch is trying to steal everything I’ve worked for, everything I've managed to achieve through all the years of working my
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