Chapter 3 Mae
"What the hell! Are you ok?" Dexter shouts, jumping up and running to the kitchen to grab some paper towels to clean up the mess.
"I'm fine, I'm fine,” I try to reassure him as I look down at the couch cushion where I've just spewed a bit of the banana and a load of vodka. Thankfully, none of it seems to have landed on me or him but it reeks of alcohol.
He returns with a handful of paper towels that I immediately use to clean-up the mess. After tossing them in the kitchen trash bin, I rinse out my mouth and gulp down a full glass of water before returning to the living room area.
“Sorry about that,” I apologize, moving to a different section of the couch, further away from the vomit stain and him.
Dexter laughs. "I'm sure this couch has seen much worse than a little hangover vomit."
"Gross."
He smiles, taking me in and I wonder what he sees when he looks at me.
I shared a bit of my story last night, just the low lights, of course, but there’s more to me than the broken young girl who grew up in a wealthy family that’s only language was the language of control, order, and appearances and then married a guy just like that.
It hasn’t been all bad. There’ve been moments of love, joy and fun along the way, even if they’ve been marred by tragedy and fear, too.
“You really haven’t let loose in a while, huh?” he asks, not with pity like most people look at me with when they know what I’ve been through but with admiration.
I shake my head. “Four year old daughter and trying to survive.” I take another long sip of my water bottle and then place it on the table.
“Well, let’s see if we can turn that around so you can get back to living, yeah?”
I nod my head because that sounds good to me.
“So, about the reason that I need your help...” his voice seems lighter this time, less guarded than before. Maybe my vomiting all over the couch helped lighten the mood. “Three years ago, I went a little crazy with women.”
“Three years ago? You say that like you still aren't?” I tease playfully.
He stops and chuckles deeply. “You're right, I still am, but I’m more… careful now.”
I nod. “I won’t interrupt anymore. Go on.”
“I met a woman while traveling internationally for an event with the team. She was a beautiful Brit—long brown hair, creamy skin, and big, round brown eyes. We had sex the first night we met. We weren't careful, but I never really was back then. I never kept in touch with the women after I slept with them. I’m not exactly proud, but I’m also not ashamed to say it’s probably been in the thousands for me.
It's always been purely physical therefore there'd been no desire to keep in touch but something about this one had been different. Mara was… I don’t know, more than just a fun night.
“Against my typical style, I went back to London and saw her, intentionally this time. We spent an extended weekend together and I got to know her—the first woman that I’ve ever done that with.
She was smart, a professor at Oxford, and intelligent.
When I left, we decided to keep things open-ended.
The feelings I had for her freaked me out, and I had just been picked up by the Miami Waves.
I didn’t want to bring her into the madness that comes with American football, and I wasn't sure that I wanted to be tied down anyhow.
Women were throwing themselves at me given my newfound status on the team, and I was more than accepting of it.
Mara was understanding of the position that I was in and my inability to commit, and didn't reach out even though I could tell she wanted more. "
He takes a deep breath again and I can tell this isn’t going to end well, especially with the way he’s referring to her in the past. “Two months after our long weekend together, I received a call from a blocked number. It was Mara and she was calling to tell me that she was pregnant, and the baby was mine.”
I draw in a breath of realization. “Shit.”
He shoots me a lopsided smile. “I’m not going to lie; I was pissed at first. Not at her, but at myself.
Here I was, finally making it into the NFL and I got a girl I wasn't in a relationship with, pregnant. I flew to see her, begged her to keep it quiet, offered to pay her off—anything. She was pissed that I’d offer that but understood.
She swore she wasn’t like any of the other women I was with and cared for me and the child.
I realized she was right. Though it was hard to trust her words, I felt differently about her too. ”
He sighs, “Braxton came into the world perfect. Born on October 13th, 2021. I flew to see her and him only once not to risk the media catching on to my new status as a father. I wanted to protect them both from my rising star. That year we were headed for the Super Bowl again, and every move I made was watched and reported on very closely by the media.”
He swallows, and I can see beads of sweat form on his brow as he works through the ending of the story.
“I hadn’t seen her since that one visit when Braxton was first born.
With my manager's support, I continued to send money through a wire so it couldn’t be traced back to me.
I gave them more than they needed, set him up with the best daycare in London if she wanted to return to teaching but she never did.
She loved being a mom to him and from what I heard, she was a damn good one, too.
Unfortunately, three months ago, I received a call that she was killed in a tragic car accident in London. ”
“Dammit…” I let out a soft breath.
He nods. “The only other people who know are my manager, whom I trust implicitly—he’s been with me since I was a rookie—and Mara’s sister, who also lives in London. Braxton's living with her now.”
I nod. “Dexter, I'm so sorry for your loss.”
He clears his throat, picks up his coffee mug and takes a long sip before looking back in my eyes much more determined now.
“I’m proud of Braxton. He’s a bright, adorable, and sweet two-year-old with a cute accent.
But I can’t let it get out that I have a child.
This isn't me being worried about my reputation or image anymore. I don’t give a shit about that.
People already think I’m a player. A pregnancy and a surprise child wouldn’t be all that shocking to the media.
It’s about Braxton. I want him to have the chance to grow up and live a normal life.
It's what Mara would have wanted. I’m still sending checks to her sister, and they are extremely generous.
My manager is lining up a house for them to live in that I’ll buy so that they will have more space and not be living in a place that constantly reminds him of his mom.
I’ll do anything for him; I just don’t want people to find out that he’s mine.
Not now. Not like this. Not when the wound is so fresh from Mara's passing.”
I understand more than he realizes. When Elsie was born, I’d been worried about the attention that the media would place on her, as her father, a rookie, had just been picked up by the Texan Thunderhawk’s and the media had been relentless about his suspected drug use and partying.
Thankfully, once Vance lost his contract and spiraled, eventually disappearing from the world of football, no one seemed to care anymore about the family he left behind.
“So, you can see now why I think you could help me,” he says.
“I understand better now. But Dexter, the only way to get ahead of this is for you to control the narrative.”
A big smile spreads across his face as he sits back on the couch. “See, I knew I hired you for a reason.”
“You’re okay with a press release announcing you have a child?” I ask, surprised.
"More than okay," he replies. "We just need to divert their attention away from London.
Maybe even craft a fabricated story about who the child is, their age and where they are located.
Honestly, I don't care about the details.
What matters is keeping Braxton's life from being turned upside down.
At least, not until I retire in a few years.
The lifespan of players in this game is short—they burn out faster than they emerge.
I understand that. But until then, I need to protect and shield him. "
I nod, my mind already hard at work as I conjure a plan for how we could announce to the world that the country’s star quarterback, a ladies’ man and family favorite, has a child with a woman he really cared about at one time privately without revealing Braxton's identity. This is personal now, there’s a little boy on the line whose life will be affected if we don’t do this right.
“I can see the wheels turning, and I like it. Imagine how thrown off the media will be when they receive this announcement from a no name publicist. I'm hoping that distracts some of the attention away from the story," he says.
I laugh. “So, you're hoping that by having me drop this story, they’ll dig into my past instead?"
He shrugs. "Change your name before we make the announcement. They won't know who you are and where to look. Plus, wouldn't you prefer to not be tethered to that loser Vance anymore anyhow?"
I think for a moment and then nod my head. I’ve been determined to sever all ties with Vance Jones since the moment I realized who he really was, and changing my last name might be the final thread to cut myself loose.
"Let’s eat and brainstorm for our plan of attack,” Dexter says, leaning forward to grab some fruit from one of the plates.
“Wait,” I put my hands up to stop him. “I’m willing to help you, but I want to talk compensation.”
“Go for it.”
“I want three things as part of this agreement.”
“Lay 'em on me.” He grins as he shovels a handful of blueberries into his mouth.