A Rich Man's Baby (11 page)

A
fter another epic sex experience, I was posed on top of Derrick. Every time I was with him I made sure to stroke his ego. I always told him how good his body looked and how great his sex was. My head was on his shoulder and he was stroking my hair back and forth and kissing my forehead. We couldn't keep our hands off each other.

“You getting tired of me yet?” he asked.

“Naw, I'm never going to get tired of you. But can you get your hand off my butt?” I giggled.

“This my butt. I can leave it here all night if I want to. Can't I?”

“Yeah, you can,” I said seductively as I leaned into him and kissed him.
Wow, he is really feeling me
, I thought. It made me feel so good and so powerful and in control. He told me that he had all this property down South and his uncle invested a lot of his money. I told him I needed money for my bills, and he gave me seven thousand without any questions. Plus, he asked me if I wanted to take a trip to the Dominican Republic with him. I told him yeah, and he said he was going to get it set up. I closed my eyes and thought about how good my life was. Hours later, I was jolted out of my sleep when Derrick turned on the light and yelled, “Yo, you got to go!”

“Huh?” I said as I sat up groggily.

“Patrice is on her way here. You have to go.”

I looked at him, thinking,
This is crazy! He has to be joking.
I didn't know where my clothes were and was half asleep. But Derrick wasn't playing. He pulled the sheets off me and started gathering my things off the floor for me. He was looking all around the room for any evidence.

First he handed me my underwear. Then he said, “Here's your bag, and your shoes are right there.”

Derrick placed them by my feet to be sure I wouldn't miss them.

I was so mad. I wanted Patrice to hurry up and come. That way she could catch me there, get mad, quit him, and then I could be his girlfriend and go back to sleep.

“Adrienne, you going to have to hurry up.”

I still took my time. I slowly walked to the bathroom and put water on my face. When I came out of the bathroom he was standing with my coat and began pushing me toward the door. He gave me a kiss on my cheek and said he would call me. On the other side of the door, the brisk fall winds awoke me as I got in my car. I started my car and let it warm up for a minute or so. By the time I reached the gate, I saw a woman on her phone, driving in. She almost crashed into a parked car trying to get a good look at me.
Damn, why did she have to come over?
I felt so dumb driving home at three in the morning on the dark turnpike.

 

I woke up with pregnancy on my mind. I was praying to God to please let me be pregnant. I thought I was. My period was supposed to come on last Wednesday, and it was Saturday.

I didn't know if I should wait for Derrick to call me or call him. I knew he had to go to practice, and they had a bunch of away games coming up. So I called him up.

“Derrick? Hey, Boo Boo,” I said in a baby voice.

“Who is this?” he asked.

“Damn, a few days and you forget me?”

“Oh no, Adrienne. What's up?”

“You always what's up. Um, did you call the travel agent to set up our trip yet?”

“No, I didn't get to it.”

“Why not?”

“I can't see you anymore.”

“Huh?” I asked, shocked.

“Yeah, my girl remembered your face from the party. And you left your earring here. She told me she was going to leave me if I cheated again, and I don't want to lose her, so I'm going to be true to her,” Derrick said as he ended our call. I was mad, but if I was already pregnant it didn't even matter.

 

I got a pregnancy test from the drugstore. It was like sixteen dollars and some change. I knew I was pregnant.
He is the one.
I opened my eyes and stared down at the stick. There was a big fat negative sign.
I let him come in me, and I might not get a chance again. Shit!

I
didn't get pregnant by Derrick, but oh well, on to the next. I wanted to be chillin' somewhere being a Mrs. Super Bowl or Mrs. All-Star with a baby in my stomach and quite possibly a big rock on my left hand. I wasn't trying to be wifey. That takes too long and comes with a prenup. I just wanted somebody's baby so my child can get a percentage of his income automatically for the next eighteen years.

Over the last few weeks I'd learned a few things. I wasn't wasting my time with attorneys, doctors, or any man who worked hard for his money. Why? Because they were too attached to it.

I went on a date with this young stockbroker I met at a happy hour. Bad move. Yes, he was degreed up with a suit and tie, and yes, he spoke well, but he was boring, and cheap. On our first date we went to a cigar shop—his suggestion, not mine—and he talked too damn much and was too longwinded.
Shut up,
I thought our entire date. He kept asking me my goals and what my five-year plan was. I didn't know. He was not what I wanted at all. Yeah, if I was dating to date, then fine. But I wasn't dating to date. He made $150,000 a year. Okay, after taxes how much was that? Exactly. Split three ways? He couldn't finance half the lifestyle I was trying to live. I saw how Derrick was living and what he gave me in a matter of weeks.
I'm sorry, I can't go back to Mr. Ordinary.
I wanted what I wanted right now.

I was dating athletes exclusively, because they were all young, in shape, and knew how to have a good time. I'd been hanging out with Angelique, and she gave me so much information. I called her one day to find out when the next event was, and she asked me if I wanted to go to a party in D.C. We went to three clubs in one night, and I never reached in my pocket to get into a club or pay for a drink or a tip. And Angelique knew everybody. She'd dated like ten guys in the NFL and NBA. I went to parties in New York, Virginia, and D.C. with her. She was a little annoying sometimes because she thought guys who didn't try to talk to her were gay. And she also didn't have anything else going on for herself. She just knew she looked good and how to pop what was between her legs.

But with or without her, I was on the party circuit. There were so many party Web sites, chats, and Yahoo! groups. I was on e-mail lists and got texts on the regular.

One of the first things I learned partywise was if you heard about a party on the radio and an athlete was the special invited guest, nine times out of ten the player was probably going to come in the front door and leave out the back in twenty-five minutes. Athletes and celebrities didn't like to hang out with people who would be asking for pictures and autographs. They were tired of that shit.

Two, when you met a player and he told you what he did for a living, you couldn't act like you had no idea. They could tell you were lying.

Three, a lot of them liked to spend money with no attachments. These men acted like they didn't want nobody after the money, but yet they liked to show it off—buying drinks, flashing credit cards, and pulling up in something that cost more than what most people made in a year. We went to a club in New York and I saw a Maybach and a Bentley pull up and I was like, wow, they paid. But everybody who is driving something big is not always the major money getter. The rookies are usually the ones with the most ice on, and would be talking loudly, trying to get attention. And so far I liked basketball player status and money, but their groupies were a little bit more hard-core. NFL dudes seemed to be a little more humble, 'cause they didn't get as much airtime. People didn't really recognize them as much because they always had helmets on when they were on TV. Plus, the football players had shorter careers and their contracts were not guaranteed. If they got hurt, they were done.

Now with all that said, I met a guy at K Street Lounge I found out played for the Cleveland Cavaliers. He wasn't all that cute, but I looked him up on the
USA Today
Web site. His contract was for six million dollars. We could have had two babies together, but the only thing was, I couldn't even get a conversation in with him. Every time I called, his voice mail was always full. I was really trying to be patient and work myself into his schedule, but it was hard.

M
y kids were all in my business every time I got dressed, asking me where I was going. I told them it was none of their business. I made dinner and played mommy until about ten, and after that I'd send Kierra to bed and head out the door.

I'd been trying to look my best, given that I was partying with girls seven years younger than me. I had to keep up and look good. Even though nobody questioned how old I was, every time we went out I'd usually say I was twenty-seven or twenty-eight.

The Miami Heat were in town, and we were going to the game and after-party. I just wanted to meet Dwyane Wade. Jamil loved him, and so did his mom. I knew he was married, but if I could just get a picture or see him in person, I'd be in heaven.

I left work early and got Tyrone to keep Kierra for me. I'd been getting ready for a couple of hours, because being beautiful was a full-time job. I went to the hair salon and nailery. My hair weave was done up with bouncy curls that cascaded past my shoulders with an array of light and golden browns. I got a bikini wax, legs and eyebrows waxed. From there, it was to the mall to get my outfit together.

I didn't eat anything all day. I wanted my stomach to be flat. I slid my emerald-green dress over my head. I turned around and zipped the back up. It messed my hair up just a little, so I patted it down on both sides. I was ready for the party and to meet someone. I just wanted somebody special, that's all. I didn't even know if I was ready for a boyfriend. But meeting a cute guy with money? Well, that was a bonus.

When we reached the complex, we got a few stares like, “Where are y'all going? This is a basketball game.” We looked better than any girl group. Adrienne looked like a pinup girl, and Angelique was wearing shorts and stilettos and pulling it off. We arrived in the fourth quarter. We took a seat and just waited until the end of the game.

Soon as the game was over, we went to the entrance of the Heat locker room. But we had to get in line. There were all these kids with posters and sports collectors with cards they wanted to get signed. We could not get near anyone, and there were too many people and cameras around. We left and hoped we would have better luck at the official after party of the game. It was invite only, but the line was around the corner. Angelique called someone she knew, and he came out and pulled us out of line. But once in, we were so disappointed.

The club was so pretty and everything looked nice, but nobody was there. Only a few people from the Heat showed up, and they were guys who didn't really get any time. The music was like techno or something with a lot of bass. And every girl in the club was looking like superthirsty, cotton mouths like, “Please pick me. I want to be with a baller tonight. Take me home.”

It wasn't like the other upscale party we went to. And the few players who were there weren't having conversations or buying drinks. All they were doing was making late-night dates and one-night-stand sessions. The girls were out of shape with brightly colored bad weaves and tattooed up. I mean, everyone looked bad. I'd never seen so many unrealistic breasts and so much tan in the bottle in one party.

One guy who played was sitting in the corner on the top of the booth drinking out of a bottle. He had an Asian girl sitting on his lap and a white girl dancing in front of them. He poured champagne into the Asian girl's mouth. “Wow” was all I could say. She was so happy that he was sharing. This party was really filled with I'll-do-anything-to-be-with-you groupies.

“Let's go. I've seen enough. I don't want to be classified or even seen in a party of this magnitude. Look how hungry they look,” Angelique said.

“So, what are we going to do now? Are we going home?”

“No, I'm going to find out where they're staying and we can just go have a drink in the lobby of their hotel.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Adrienne said as I followed them out of the club.

 

The team was staying at the ritzy Four Seasons on the Benjamin Franklin Parkway. Their team bus was parked on the side of the building. We walked past it and straight through the front door to the lobby. The doorman said good evening as he bowed and opened the door. We went in, sat at the bar, and ordered drinks and then had a seat in the lobby.

“They will be down, watch,” Angelique said as she opened her makeup compact.

We just sat in the little foyer of the lobby, talking and fixing makeup. Then a man wearing a dark blue suit came over and approached us.

“Good evening, ladies, do you have a reservation this evening? Because unfortunately, if you don't, we can't allow you to sit in our lobby.”

“Yes, I do. My travel agent set it up for me. I'll be over to check in in a minute,” Angelique said.

The man said no problem but still continued to watch us and whisper to security. We started laughing when he walked away.

“Why are they acting like the Secret Service?” Adrienne asked.

“I don't know, but they usually don't bother you. Anyway, forget tonight and start thinking about January and February. Because they are going to be busy. I know y'all going to go to the Super Bowl with us. The Pro Bowl is next, and the weekend after that is All Star Weekend.”

“I don't know if I will be able to do all that,” I said.

“Y'all waiting on me?” a cute green-eyed stranger asked as he walked over to us.

“Could be. What's up?” Angelique asked.

“The team's having a little get-together upstairs. Y'all want to come and join us?”

“Yeah, we partying,” Angelique answered for us.

“By the way, I'm Troy.” He clapped his hands, said, “Okay,” and told us he would be right back.

Troy came back with a few other women and told us to come on. We grabbed our bags and followed him past the front desk and took the elevator to the fourth floor. The gigantic suite was the size of an apartment. Troy introduced us to everybody, and we all kind of mingled and drank. Then, one by one, the guys said good night and went back to their rooms. A lot of them were married, and I guess tired. They had a game the next day. There were no love connections made. I guess not every party was going to be a good one.