2. Omiri Hayes #2
Shit pissed me off so I quickly let the world know I didn’t want kids, and if she was carrying mine, she needed to come collect her check.
Whether she kept it or not after that was up to her but she would damn sure be a single mother.
I was high as hell that night so when Vanessa, my publicist, played the clip for me the next morning, she got in my ass about being so reckless.
I waved it off, telling her the whole family thing would never be me. That wasn’t my calling.
“I want to make sure this isn’t a problem.”
“I’ll make some calls to get this set up. You need to be careful…”
“I know. Just handle it.”
“Do you have her information?”
“Yeah, hold on. I have her wallet.”
“How the hell do you have her wallet?”
“She was so busy running from me she didn’t realize she left it.”
“What the hell do you mean running from you? What did you do, O?”
“Nothing.” I dropped back against the sofa and stared at the picture on her license. “Long story.”
“One that could potentially be attached to some charges?”
“No. I didn’t touch her.”
“Aight, give me her information.”
I read him the name and address, which he repeated back to me.
“I’ll call you later today.”
I ended the call and tossed her license back on the ottoman before I lifted from the sofa and headed to my room, stripping out of my clothes from last night.
I dressed in a pair of shorts and headed to the extra room I converted to a gym and spent the next two hours working out.
I pushed my body to its limit trying to calm the thoughts in my head.
Did I want to be a father?
Hell no. I wasn’t equipped for that shit because I had never been provided with the proper example.
My own hardly ever showed up unless he needed cash or the connections my name provided and my mother had checked out emotionally after O’Rion died.
Even before that she dumped all her energy into him because I was a lost cause.
O’Rion was smart as fuck, had academic scholarships left and right.
All I could do was catch a football. She literally said that to me once when I asked why she never showed me the same love she had for O’Rion.
I never took that out on him. He couldn’t help who he was or how she loved him.
That was on her, but regardless, parenting wasn’t in my DNA.
So no, I didn’t want to be a father but my brother never got to be and if he were here and knew I had a kid out there, he would have put his foot in my ass about not being present.
Again, all terrible fucking reasons to want this but this was where I was because if the kid was mine…
The thought had me dropping the weights to my side mid rep.
I stared at my reflection in the mirror, seeing so many things.
A man who busted my ass for the people I loved but never got the acknowledgment or respect and a man who didn’t deserve to be standing here but most of all I saw the eyes of the man who did.
How fucking ironic. The one thing that tied me to a father that let me down and a brother I let down was the one thing that tied me to a life I didn’t fucking want.
But if she was mine, I couldn’t walk away like she didn’t exist.
I put the weights down and headed to my room to shower. Once I was dressed in sweats and a hoodie, I was back in the living room with my phone in hand. There was a text from Raaj telling me he had everything set up and would send the paperwork to Makari when I was ready.
Yeah, that shit was going to go over smoothly.
I needed a distraction so I hit up my boy Ryland and put the phone on speaker while I lifted the remote to pull up highlight film from the Super Bowl and muted the sound.
“What’s good, fam.”
“Ain’t shit, what you into?”
“About to let that little shorty at Tranquil Breeze put her hands on me to work these muscles then I’m gonna drop this dick off in her to work hers.”
I smirked and shook my head. “You really need to stop fucking your massage therapist, Land. Got them women up there putting their hands up over some dick that will never be theirs. The owner is going to start taxing you for disrupting their establishment.”
“That’s on them.”
“Remember that shit when they send your ass a bill.” He laughed and I brushed a hand over my head then just blurted this shit out. “I might have a kid.”
“You what?”
“A kid. A little girl.”
“You serious?”
“Yeah, she’s like three ,maybe four, months.”
“So you can’t even pay her off. Damn that’s fucked up.”
I frowned hard at that even though that was literally my response every time the conversation of me and babies came up.
“Right now I just want to know for sure.”
“Wait, three or four months means Super Bowl last year.”
“Yeah.”
“Ahh hell, I remember her. That was ol’ girl you disappeared with the night we were at The Metropolitan. Damn, baby was fine.”
“Bruh, didn’t I just fucking say I might have a kid with her? Chill the fuck out.”
He laughed.
“Aight, aight. You talked to her?”
“No, but I looked her up.”
“So all you’ve done is stalk her?”
“I’m being proactive.”
“Nah, that’s not proactive. That’s you trying to figure out how much it’s going to cost you to make this go away.”
“I’m just trying to figure this shit out.”
“What’s there to figure out, O? You don’t want kids. I can’t count the number of times I’ve heard you say that shit…” He paused. “Wait, you’re stressing over this. What are you worried about, that she’s yours or that she’s not?”
I dropped my head back and closed my eyes. “Fuck if I know. Shit, both maybe.”
“Ahh hell, you’re really considering this. I mean shit changes all the time, and if she’s yours, you have rights, but so does she. This isn’t just about you, O. It’s about all of you, but most importantly the kid.”
“I know, which is why I’m trying to do this shit right. If I fuck this up it will end up all over the media. Last thing I need is another ‘Omiri Hayes Secret Love Child’ story circulating.”
“Who the fuck cares about that? You’re not the first NFL player to have a kid. I can name three people on our team right now dealing with the same shit.”
“Yeah but she’s not trying to fuck with me. She was hiding the kid, which means this could get messy, and I’m not trying to be stuck in the middle of anything like that.”
“What did you do to her?”
“Not a damn thing.” I frowned hard. Hell, she was the one who ran out on me that next morning without so much as a fuck you or a thank you for fucking me.
I also knew my record wasn’t the best. I had already considered that.
Just this week there was an article about me fighting in a club in Miami, two weeks before that, rumors about a DUI Raaj had managed to make disappear.
The night we won the Super Bowl, a video leaked of me getting head in an elevator from two random women.
That shit was wild but never again. I couldn’t fucking focus.
So yeah, not exactly father of the year material.
Regardless ,deciding whether or not I wanted to be a father should have been my choice. She took that shit from me and I was fucking pissed.
“You sure?”
“Yeah, muthafucker, I’m sure, whose side are you on?”
“The kid’s if I have to choose but truthfully there are no sides. If you want my advice, talk that shit out. Be straight with her and make sure you have that conversation when you’re not drunk or high. Especially if you want to be in the kid’s life.”
His words gut punched but he was right and I really couldn’t be mad. I damn sure didn’t live a child-friendly life.
“Yeah, I feel you.”
“I’m about to pull up at Tranquil. Keep me posted because if you’re about to be daddy daycare, then you’re going to need a wing man.”
“Bruh, I know the fuck you don’t think that’s you when you just told me you’re about to get a massage then give her a happy ending. You’re damn sure not a role model.”
“Balance, muthafucker.”
I chuckled because he was on one. “Yeah, aight. I’ll holla at you.”
I need the call and unmuted the TV, trying to focus on the game. My life was about to do a complete one eighty and I was the one pushing for this shit.