CHAPTER 3 Dex Bradley
Tens of Billions
I don’t know exactly why I said it.
Maybe it was the way she looked at me when she bumped into me on the street. Her eyes were so sad, but the recognition was immediate on her end. It often is. I’m a pro football player. It took me a second to place her, though.
She’s not the quiet, shy, rather unnoticeable teenager who’d come over to hang with my littlest sister anymore.
She grew into a gorgeous woman. She was made up for television, which might’ve had something to do with it, but they just highlighted whatever features she already had.
I’ve learned over time that makeup can’t hide what’s inside, and despite her sadness when she literally crashed into me, there was something radiating from her that I don’t experience much in this town.
Innocence, maybe. Purity and kindness. Maybe a little slice of home.
I shake it off.
I think I just wanted Tawny to believe she’s leaving the kid in good hands, even if I’m not sure she is.
She looked shocked when I said girlfriend.
I was shocked I said it.
My phone rings again, and I know I can’t keep putting my dad off, so as I look through my dresser for the smallest T-shirt and shorts combo I can find, I finally answer. “What?”
“Hell of a way to greet your old man, but I guess it’s better than being sent to voicemail for the fourth time today.”
“I’m busy,” I say petulantly.
“I’ll be quick then. I assume Madden let you in on the underground operations?” he asks.
I freeze. “What underground operations?”
“The casinos.”
“Casinos?” I repeat. “What casinos?” I rifle through a drawer and find an old shirt that I know is too small for me, so maybe it’ll be okay on her.
“My casinos,” he says.
“What?” I choke as I freeze again, and I realize not for the first time how much I really don’t know a goddamn thing about the man I call Dad.
“Madden actually kept his mouth shut, huh? I have an underground casino operation in Chicago. The feds are on my trail here, so I want your help starting one in Vegas. You have a ticket into the lives of the rich and famous out there, you know all the greatest places, and you’re already involved in underground gambling rings.
Do this with me and I’ll make the bottom line very attractive for you.
It’ll be your part in carrying on the Bradley legacy. ”
“You know I can’t. I have a season starting in a few weeks, and I can’t get caught up in underground bullshit,” I say. “Besides, you’ve got the Vegas casinos to contend with here. The only way you’re setting up anything underground is with a hell of a lot of capital.”
“In the billions?” he asks.
“Tens of them, at least.”
“Done.” He’s flippant, and meanwhile, I’m sweating.
My brows crash together. He has that much money?
I feel like with tens of billions, all my problems could cease to exist. All of them.
“I’m flying out at the end of the week, and I’d like to meet with you in person to go over the finer details while I’m there,” he says.
This is a terrible idea. I shouldn’t get involved.
But I find myself struggling with my loyalties.
My father is always droning on and on about the Bradley legacy, and he’s asking me a favor.
The truth is that yes, I do know a lot of rich people in this town, and there’s probably something in this deal for me, too.
“Fine. Text me your itinerary, and I’ll let you know when I can meet. ”
I cut the call there before he can guilt me into more bullshit, and I grab a pair of boxer shorts and a shirt.
That thrill I was looking for seems to be hitting me over the head today.
First I find out I have a kid.
Then I run into this woman I know but don’t who’s apparently going to play my girlfriend while I figure out this kid issue.
Then my father asks me to start up an underground poker ring? That third one has the potential to fire me up. The others feel like situations that need to be handled.
I head back out to the family room, and I toss the shirt and shorts to Ainsley.
“Thanks,” she murmurs, and then she disappears down the hall.
“I guess I need to get going, but it’s harder to say goodbye than I thought,” Tawny says to me. She reaches into the purse she set on the table and pulls out a paper. “This is his birth certificate in case you need it.” She holds it out for me, and I grab it from her.
I glance at the paper. There’s no father listed, and Tawny’s real name is apparently Theresa Jeffries. The baby’s full name is Jack Dexter Jeffries. She gave him my first name as his middle name.
Nobody calls me Dexter. I actually thought about legally shortening it to Dex since that’s what I’ve been called my entire life. But my full name is Dexter James Bradley, and it’s weird seeing my name on a certificate as someone else’s middle name.
It’s unsettling. Confusing.
It pulses a bit of unfamiliar emotion in me.
I don’t like it.
She squeezes Jack tightly, and then she hands me another paper. “This one names you as the father and signs custody over to you. You can file for a new birth certificate with it. My lawyer has a copy of it as well. If you need me to sign any paperwork, you know where to find me.”
I nod, and eventually she shudders as she hands Jack over to me. I’m awkward as hell as I take him from her. I think this marks the first time I’ve ever actually held a baby, and I cradle him, not sure what else to do with him. He wiggles a little, and I feel like I might drop him.
“Take better care of him than I could have, okay?” she asks.
I nod as I stare down at him, and he stares up at me. I spot something in his eyes like recognition, and the strangest sensation like I know him washes over me. I think the same sensation is washing over him at the same time.
I hear the door click shut as if Tawny—Theresa, whatever—just walked out, and as soon as the door clicks, Jack bursts into tears.
Fuck. What do I do?
I suddenly want to cry, too. I am completely out of my element here.
“Stop crying,” I tell the kid.
He doesn’t listen.
“Shh,” I say.
Nope.
I walk around the room and bounce a little, but I’ve always heard that you never shake a baby, so I don’t know how much bouncing is allowed.
“Fuck!” I yell.
“Okay, okay,” Ainsley says, appearing out of nowhere in a shirt that’s most definitely drowning her. “When a baby cries, it’s usually because he’s hungry, wet, or tired. Sometimes all three. When did he eat last?”
I shrug. Is she talking to me?
“Well, let’s start there. Where’s his bottle?”
“I wasn’t kidding when I said that I literally just found out I’m a father like forty-five minutes ago,” I snap. The kid is screaming his little head off, and what the fuck? Where did my peace and quiet go? The tranquil view of the Strip has been erased by this nonsense.
I shove the kid at Ainsley, and I run toward the room where we dumped all the baby stuff.
I find the bag with a bottle in it. I procure it and hold it up as if I’ve just performed some sort of epic feat, and I hand the bottle to Ainsley, who looks much more natural holding a baby in her arms than I just did.
She takes the bottle from me and taps the top of it onto her wrist then shakes it before sliding it into the baby’s mouth.
“Why’d you do that?” I ask.
“Checking the temperature of the formula. What’s his name?”
“Jack,” I say, relieved that I finally know an answer.
“Do you have a rocking chair?” she asks. I shake my head, and she sits on the couch. “Crib?”
I shrug. “Some little box thing Tawny brought over.”
“Box thing? Show me.”
I grab it out of the room I decided would be Jack’s and show it to her.
“That’s a bassinet, which will do in a pinch, but he’s growing pretty big already. You’ll want a crib for him. What about a baby monitor?”
I shake my head.
“Diaper Genie?”
“A what?”
“Start making a list,” she says.
“A list?” I ask stupidly. “I wasn’t expecting a kid, and I’m not planning to keep him.”
“He’s your son, Dex. You can’t just give him away.”
“Tawny did.”
“You’re panicking, and that’s normal. But I can help you through this transition, okay?”
I blow out a breath. “I don’t want to do this.”
She stares down at the baby as he sucks down that bottle. “I know. But you have to.”
I’m not convinced she’s right just yet…but I think I’m starting to face facts.
Regardless, the kid needs supplies, so a few hours later, Target is making a delivery with all of these new products.
Milton sends back the dress and manages to get Ainsley’s luggage back, though she has to promise to interview with producers before they’ll release her phone.
We also negotiate daily payment while she’s here helping me out.
So far, she seems to know everything about babies, and having her here is pulsing a sense of relief in me I wasn’t expecting. And that’s hard to put a price tag on.
I’m still not convinced this is real, but either way, I’ll need these things for the next few days until I figure out the next step.