Quarterback's Surprise Baby (Bad Boy Ballers Book 2) Read Online Free Page A

ass off on the field. Years of perfecting my craft, practicing any and every chance I could, mainly so I didn’t have to go home and face my foster family. I'd rather drop and give my coach a million “twenties” rather than see my drunken foster dad's angry eyes grow an even paler red before he'd start to hit me.
    My agent told me I had to get the best lawyer I could. He said I needed to get in front of this thing and make sure the world knew I wasn't guilty. Problem is, I feel guilty even though I didn't do any of the shit she says I did. Even though she's trying to take all my money, and my hard-won reputation as the best ballplayer around, I still feel like trash. First round draft pick and all that goes with it will go to shit if I get charged with domestic violence. Her word against mine. She probably has pictures, who knows, but I am not the one at fault. So why do I feel that way?
    She almost makes me want to hit her, accusing me of that kind of thing, though I never would in a million years. That's the problem with these goddamn gold-digging bitches. They get their claws into you and then try to rip everything you worked for away.
    That girl from last night wouldn't do something like that, but then again you can never know. She’s too classy, and she’s right. It’s best to keep things anonymous—that way nobody gets hurt. One and done, everybody gets what they want. Besides, it doesn’t seem she is hurting for money. She had some pretty bomb-ass accessories.
    I spit out my toothpaste, wipe my face, and go to put on my best suit: a custom-made Italian suit that makes me look killer, along with a Brooks Brothers shirt and tie to slip over my tatted torso and biceps. I’ve always loved Brooks Brothers because it reminds me of my alma mater, Brooks U. Though I would never have been able to afford even one of their shirts back in the day. Nah, I barely had anything back then. Just true friends. I miss them.
    “Gryphon James, you'll never amount to anything,” I say to myself, mimicking Miss Emory’s attitude. “Just the starting QB on the winningest football team in the league.” But it all feels hollow.
    Why? Sabrina.

4
    Odell
    “ S o what happened with Loverboy ?” I hear as I put the phone to my ear. Of course, it's Sandra. She wants to get the gossip on last night's conquest, and she wants it now.
    “Wouldn't you like to know,” I demur, smiling despite myself. She usually gets the full scoop, but I’m not sure how much I want to tell her about this one. The sex was fantastic, but in some ways strangely sweeter and sexier than I would have imagined coming from a man like him. Makes me feel a little—private about it.
    “Yes, I would like to know,” she says. “Of course ! Every little detail. And every not-so-little detail too, I hope! But start at the beginning. What's his name, anyway? I don't want to keep calling him Loverboy.”
    “Well,” I stall, “That's something I'd like to know,” I laugh. “Yeah, I can’t really answer that.”
    “You went home with him and you don't even know his name?” I can practically hear her jaw hitting the floor through the phone.
    “Yup,” I smile. “You were the first person to tell me that it didn't mean anything, so why does knowing his name matter anyhow? Keep it meaningless, keep it anonymous, you know?”
    “Wow girl, you were doing it up right!” She sounds sincerely impressed.
    “Yeah, well you know I wanted someone to celebrate with. Something just for me for once.” I play with that one strand of hair that never stays in place, and it pops back as soon as I let it go.
    “You deserve it—that's for sure. As long as he treated you right,” she cautions. Her voice has lost the laugh now, and I do appreciate it. But nothing to worry about really.
    “Actually, yeah, pretty well! He was respectful, you know, didn’t do anything I didn’t want him to, and did a hell of a lot of things I did.”
    She snorts in my ear. “How did you