The Talk of the Town

Chapter Seven

Quinton blew his whistle. The kids on the football field stopped running the drills they’d been practicing and glanced his way. “That’s it for today. Let’s clean up.”

A mixture of groans and claps met his response. Some kids would practice all night if he let them. Others were just as ready to get home and get showered as he was. He didn’t fault either side. As long as they did what he asked and kept their heads on straight off the field, he was good.

He glanced at the group of wide receivers practicing with one of the assistant coaches, Clyde Tucker. Shania hung on the outskirts of the group. That was unusual. She was always ready to jump in and be front and center when it came to practices. She’d seemed distracted all day.

As the players started toward the locker room, Quinton called over Clyde. “Everything went well today?” he asked.

Clyde shook his head. He was average height, thin, with a bald head and dark brown skin. “Yeah, pretty good. I tell you, that kid Octavius really knows how to run the routes. I think he’s going to make a big difference this year.”

“That’s good to hear. What about the rest of the receivers? They’re doing well?” Quinton wasn’t surprised about Octavius; he’d also noticed the boy had picked up on the plays quickly and tried to motivate the rest of the receivers to learn their routes.

“Yeah, they’re learning the plays and understanding where they need to be to catch the ball.”

“How is Shania doing?”

Clyde lifted a shoulder. “She’s doing alright, I guess.”

Quinton shifted his stance, focusing on Clyde instead of continuing to watch the kids gather equipment and head to the locker rooms. “You guess? What does that mean?”

“You know, she’s good at learning plays, but let’s be honest.” Clyde leaned closer to Quinton. “If we want to win this year then we can’t put her in the game.”

“Why not?”

Clyde glanced around before meeting his eyes. “I mean...because she can’t keep up.”

Quinton removed his aviator shades and crossed his arms. “I’ve watched her practice and she doesn’t seem to have a problem keeping up.”

Clyde let out an uneasy laugh. “You know what I’m saying.”

Quinton didn’t laugh or smile. “I don’t. Tell me what you’re saying.”

The fake smile on Clyde’s face disappeared. “She’s a girl. If we put her in the game, then she’ll be a liability.”

Quinton didn’t move, but disappointment settled around him. He’d expected this from some of the parents and a few of the players, but he’d hoped to avoid it on his coaching staff. He’d assumed they would follow his lead and support Shania on the team.

“We don’t know that until she plays in a game.” Quinton held back his displeasure with what Clyde said and spoke evenly, giving Clyde the opportunity to correct himself. “And from the way she practices I don’t see her as a potential liability.”

“As soon as one of those boys tackles her on the field, you’ll see that.”

“She’s been playing tackle football for a few years. She knows the risks and she’s good at what she does. Don’t skimp on giving her attention because you don’t think girls should play football.”

Clyde’s eyes widened. “I didn’t say that.”

“You don’t have to. What you said before—prove it.”

“I’m just stating facts. She is a girl and, yeah, right now she’s as big as some of the boys, but that’s because it’s JV. As the year goes on and if she keeps playing, she’s going to get hurt.”

Quinton understood the risks. He knew Shania ever playing professionally was unlikely, but there were other opportunities she could have if she wanted to continue playing football. He wasn’t going to be the person to kill her dream and he wasn’t going to let someone on his coaching staff do the same.

“If she continues to play with us, there are other positions she can switch to. Girls have gone on to play college football, not just as kicker but even as a defensive back. She’ll also have opportunities to coach if she continues to learn the game. If I ever hear you underestimate her contribution to this team because she’s a girl, then you may as well find another team to coach for. You understand?”

Clyde leaned back. “Coach Q, don’t be like that. I’m good with her on the team. I’m just looking out for you. The district wants us to win. We can’t be putting her in the game for clout.”

“I won’t put her in the game for clout. But I’m also not going to keep her out of the game unless I know for sure she can’t keep up. Keep working with her. We’ll go from there.”

Clyde held up a hand and sighed. “Aight, I hear you. I’ve got you.”

Quinton slid his shades back on. “Good.”

He turned away from Clyde and headed toward the locker rooms. Clyde’s comments irritated him the entire way back. He’d made a big deal of telling Halle that he wouldn’t treat Shania any differently than the other players, but he hadn’t considered that some of his coaching staff may be treating her differently. He’d bring up player progression at his next coaching meeting and check to see if anyone else was intentionally not looking at Shania’s talents and only focusing on her gender. She wasn’t quite as good as Octavius physically, but her tenacity and knowledge of the game put her close to his level. He understood the coaches’ need to win, he felt the same urge, but the need to win didn’t mean they couldn’t give Shania a chance.

He checked in with the kids coming in and out of the locker room to make sure they were good and give suggestions to keep them motivated. He kept an eye out for Shania, but didn’t see her. Maybe she’d taken off early. Hopefully, not because Clyde had given her any problems during practice.

He rounded the hall to his office and stopped short. Shania stood outside his office door, arms crossed and a frown on her face.

He walked toward her. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” She shook her head. “No. Not really.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She nodded. “I do.”

“Come on inside.” He opened his office door and motioned for Shania to sit in the chair across from his desk. He left the door open and sat in his chair. “Is this about playing? I spoke with Coach Tucker and he says you’re doing a good job learning the plays.”

“I am, but he still only wants to focus on Octavius. He doesn’t think I can keep up.” She stated the words as a fact, not like someone who was jealous of the attention Octavius got, but aware that she wasn’t on the radar.

“Did he say that?” If so, Clyde was going to be off the team sooner rather than later.

She shook her head. “He didn’t have to. He shows it in other ways.”

“Like what?”

“Like telling me to keep up all the time. Saying I’m not running fast enough, even when I beat the other kids getting into position. He even says that I have to be faster to avoid taking a hit. Like I haven’t been hit before,” she mumbled, irritation finally entering her voice at the questioning of her abilities.

“I’ll have a talk with him. I know you playing for the high school is something new for everyone, but I meant it when I said that all kids were going to get the same opportunity. If you prove that you can do what we ask, then you’ll get a chance to play.”

The corners of her mouth lifted a little. “That’s cool.”

Quinton relaxed. He felt good about solving her problem. She could go back and tell Halle that he was really doing what he said about giving all kids a fair shot.

“Good.” He moved to stand. “Now, your mom should be here.”

“Are you my dad?”

Quinton froze; his eyes went from Shania to the door and the empty hall beyond, and back to her. “Excuse me?” He couldn’t have heard her right.

She stared back at him, her gaze steady as she watched his reaction closely. “Are you my dad?”

Quinton shook his head and lowered back into his seat. “I’m not your father. Why would you ask that?”

He’d never met Halle before moving to Peachtree Cove. In that time he’d barely had the chance to speak with her before Shania joined his team, much less date or make a baby with her. He knew rumors in this town grew like weeds, but this was one he couldn’t comprehend ever starting.

Shania reached into her gym bag and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. She unfolded the paper and slid it across his desk. “This says you are.”

Quinton scowled at the paper on the table. He looked from it to Shania. Was this a prank? A joke the kids on the team wanted to play. “What’s this?”

She held his gaze. No twitch of the lip. No flash of humor in her eye. Just dogged determination and a stubborn set to her jaw. For a second, she reminded him of himself. A thought he quickly swept from his head.

“It’s something that says there’s a 99.9 percent chance you’re my dad.”

Quinton stared at the paper. At the top was the familiar logo for a popular genealogy website. The same website he’d signed up for and used that one Christmas two years ago when he’d been caught up between sentiment and heartbreak.

Quinton’s heart fell to the bottom of his stomach. If he hadn’t been sitting down, he probably would have sunk to the floor. There was no way this could be happening. No way one of his worst fears, and biggest hopes, would come through in this fashion. His hands shook as he took the paper. “Where did you get this?” he asked, his voice tight.

“I did one of those online DNA things. Mom didn’t want me to, but I did it anyway. I checked the option to find any relatives. It says you’re a match as my dad.”

Quinton lifted the paper. Confirmed it was the same company he’d used. That night came back clearly. When he’d confessed to his sister about what he’d done in college. About being broke, needing books, their parents almost being kicked out of their apartment and not being enough of a superstar in college to get the big money deals or full ride. How he’d listened to a friend.

“They pay big money for our sperm. Women want babies by strong men. I donate all the time.”

It had all sounded so easy. So simple. He’d donated, gotten paid and his parents hadn’t been put out of their apartment. He’d tried to put out of his mind the idea of there being a kid out there who belonged to him, but never quite could. Thoughts of who’d gotten his sperm. Had that person had a boy or a girl? Thoughts he’d kept to himself until that Christmas when he’d been in his feelings after breaking up with Megan and he’d drunk too much of his aunt’s Christmas punch.

“Take a DNA test and list yourself to be connected to relatives. If you have a kid out there, maybe they can find you.” His sister’s Christmas punch–induced advice.

He’d done it. Never in his life thinking a decision made in desperation would come back to him like this. Quinton looked up from the paper that linked him to Shania. Her brows were risen, and she watched him with intense, focused eyes. His eyes.

“So, are you my dad?”

Halle scanned the school parking lot for Shania. Other players got into either their cars or the cars of their waiting parents. A few of the coaches lingered or walked up from the field with kids, but none of them were Shania. She checked her watch and waited. Maybe Shania had gotten caught up with something and would be out soon, but as the players thinned with still no sign of Shania, Halle began to worry.

Had she left already? Why would she do that without talking to her first? Had she wandered off? Some kids walked from the school to the McDonald’s across the street, but Shania should know not to do that without permission. Halle pulled out her cell phone and called.

Shania answered after the third ring. “Hello?”

“Where are you? I’m in the parking lot,” Halle asked in a rush, the rising anxiety subsiding knowing that her daughter wasn’t missing.

“I’m inside talking to Coach Q.” Shania spoke easily enough, but something in her voice put Halle on edge.

“Is everything okay?”

“Not really,” was Shania’s cryptic answer.

Halle turned off the car and reached for her purse. “What does that mean? Are you hurt? Did something happen during practice?”

“This isn’t really about football. Can you come in here?”

“Here where?” Halle opened the car door and got out. What was going on? Why did Shania sound so...off? What could have happened not related to football that made her talk to Quinton about it? She was supposed to come to Halle with any problems. Not her football coach.

“Come in the back door by the parking lot. I’m in his office at the end of the hall near the gym. Last door on the right.”

Halle spotted the door that the kids and coaches typically came out of after practice. “I’m on my way.”

She hurried inside the building. All types of scenarios played in her mind. Had one of the boys on the team said or done something to her? Had Shania gotten fed up with something and decided to get Quinton’s advice? Had he pulled her aside for some random reason, and if so, why would he single out Shania?

Halle pressed a hand to her chest and took a deep breath, stopping her mind from going all over the place before she walked down the hall. There was no need in making up all kinds of stories. Whatever was going on she’d find out in a matter of minutes anyway, and she’d deal with it then.

The last door on the right was open. Halle quickly walked down the hall and entered. Shania sat in a chair on one side of the desk, Quinton on the other. Shania’s face was stony. Her jaw clenched and her eyes burning with accusation as she stared at Halle. Quinton leaned back in his chair. His jaw slack and his eyes slightly unfocused as if he’d been stunned.

“What the hell happened?” Halle asked. The tension in the room was thick as molasses.

Quinton’s head slowly turned to her. His gaze focused and his brows drew together. “Umm... Shania just asked...” He cleared his throat.

Halle raised her brows. “Asked what?” She looked at her daughter. “What did you ask?”

“Is he my dad?” Shania asked bluntly. Accusation steel in her unexpected question.

Halle’s heart flipped. Pressing a hand to her temple, she closed her eyes and sighed. “Not this again. Coach Evans, I’m sorry. This is a conversation between me and my daughter. She never should have brought you into this.”

“You’re still going to pretend, huh,” Shania said, disappointment and frustration thick in her voice.

“Pretend about what? Coach Evans is not your father. Just because some kid said you look like him doesn’t make him your dad.”

Quinton cleared his throat again. “There’s just one problem.”

Halle’s attention jerked to him. “What problem?”

“This paper says something different.” He picked up the sheet of paper in front of him and held it up.

Halle blinked, her heart racing and the hairs on the back of her neck stood. She crossed the room and snatched the paper. “I don’t care what this paper says...” Her gaze landed on the top of the page and her voice trailed off. She frowned and turned to Shania. “I told you not to do the online DNA test.”

“Why, so I wouldn’t figure out that you and Coach Q are pretending as if you didn’t know each other?”

“We don’t know each other,” she replied.

“We didn’t know each other like that.” Quinton spoke right after.

Shania crossed her arms and glared at them both. “Then why would he pop up as my biological father on this DNA test? Don’t even try to say immaculate conception. I’m young, but I’m not dumb. I know how babies are made.”

“There’s no way.” Halle scanned the paper again, reading over the words and seeing the connection. The results that said Quinton Evans had a 99.9 percent chance of being Shania’s father. Her heart rate sped up. The words on the page blurred and swam together as her world imploded. “It can’t be,” she whispered.

“Are you saying you don’t remember?” Shania asked. “Mom?” She looked at Quinton. “Coach Q? What’s going on? You don’t have to pretend anymore. Just tell the truth.”

Halle looked from the paper to Quinton. Tall, Black man who was smart and healthy. That was all she knew. But could it really be? Could fate be this much of a bitch?

Quinton’s eyes reflected the same shock as hers. After a few tense seconds he spoke slowly. “One time in college. I donated—”

Halle held up a hand. “No. Stop. Not right now. Not like this.”

Quinton’s thick brows drew together. “You’re saying you received my—”

“Come on, Shania. It’s time to go.” Halle spun away from Quinton. She hurried over to Shania and pulled on her daughter’s arm until she stood.

“Wait, Mom. What’s going on? Donated what? Received what?”

“We can talk about this somewhere else. Not here.” She pulled Shania toward the door.

Shania jerked her arm away. “No, I want to understand this now. You can’t keep pushing this aside. Mom, please, tell me what’s going on?” Shania didn’t yell, but the quaver in her voice broke Halle’s heart.

“I can’t...” Halle’s voice trailed off.

Couldn’t what? Tell her the truth of her birth? Tell her daughter the one thing she’d always wanted to know, but Halle had always been too afraid to admit? Afraid of what her family would say? How her aunts, uncles and cousins would have judged her for the decision? How they would have viewed Shania? The gossip that would have surrounded them in a small town full of people with even smaller views of what was acceptable in the world?

“Mom, please,” Shania whispered. “Tell me what’s going on.”

Halle looked at Quinton. She didn’t know what to say. She was never supposed to meet the man. Never supposed to know. Damn online DNA tests and the havoc they caused on people’s lives.

Quinton slowly stood and walked to them in the small space. Shania turned to him. He straightened his shoulders and met her gaze. “One time in college, I, uh, donated my sperm.”

Shania’s brows drew together. Confusion clouded her face before she sucked in a breath and looked back at Halle. “Mom?”

For once, Halle couldn’t ignore the plea in her daughter’s voice. “And, if your paper is right, I’m the person who received his donation.”