Page 23 of FWB

Kenny

A week after our incredible, bondage-filled evening, Tiegan sends me three back-to-back texts.

Tiegan: Hey! So, I’ve decided to have a last-minute birthday/Halloween party.

Tiegan: Maybe I’ll even invite you to stay over for the after party ;)

I smile at my phone. Tiegan in her birthday suit on her birthday? Yes, please. I shoot her a quick response.

Kenny: Wouldn’t miss it for the world ;)

The morning of All Hallow’s Eve—but more importantly, Tiegan’s birthday—rolls around.

I wake up feeling amazing and looking forward to the party tonight, despite having to wear a costume under strict instructions from Tiegan.

I don’t even mind that I have to work today.

I’m excited to see Tiegan in her “suitable for work” costume she’s been planning.

She’s gunning for an award during the costume contest Kroger holds every Halloween, along with a chili cook-off.

She’s been keeping her costume under lock and key.

She hasn’t even given me a hint. I’m not participating in either contest. It’s not that I can’t cook; I cook for myself at home all the time.

I just don’t need the approval of others.

When I arrive at work, I see a spot available next to Tiegan’s car in the garage again, so I pull in and turn off the ignition.

I look to my left towards Tiegan’s car and nearly have a heart attack.

She has set up a life-size skeleton with glowing red eyes in her passenger seat, staring out the window with its arm positioned to look like it’s holding the “oh shit!” handle above the window.

I huff out a laugh, snap a quick picture of her passenger, and send it to her with the message:

Kenny: Nice co-pilot! Does he help you get around the HOV laws on the highway? Lol

And then another right after:

Kenny: Happy Birthday, btw. I can’t wait to get you in your bday suit later ;)

I enter the garage elevators. When I exit into the lobby, I get a text, but it isn’t from Tiegan. It’s from an unknown number.

Unknown: Hey, Kenny. We need to talk.

What the hell? I ignore the message and continue walking to the elevators that will take me to the twelfth floor. Then I get another text.

Unknown: It’s Jazmine. We need to talk. It’s urgent. Please. Can we meet up somewhere?

Jazmine? What on earth could that crazy bitch need to say to me? I sure as hell ain’t meeting up with her face to face.

Kenny: There’s is nothing you could possibly say that could convince me to ever lay eyes on you again. Do not contact me.

Before I can block her number, another text comes through:

Unknown: I’m pregnant. And I’m pretty sure it’s yours.

I don’t remember moving my feet. The next thing I know, I’m back in my car, staring at the steering wheel. Jazmine’s pregnant? And she thinks it’s mine? I haven’t slept with her in months, much less even thought about her. Ever since Tiegan … Shit! Tiegan.

I look down and see that she has finally responded to my picture with two of her own—a mirror shot and a selfie.

The mirror shot shows her outfit. She’s wearing a thigh-length black dress with the body of a skeleton printed on the front in stark white, and long sleeves that remind me of bat wings.

I’m stunned when I look at her face shot.

It’s a close-up of her intricate makeup.

She has painted her face to look like a detailed sugar skull, inspired by Dia de los Muertos.

She’s stunning, but the face paint isn’t what stops me in my tracks.

It’s her eyes themselves—so contrastingly aqua against the glitter surrounding her eyes.

They look like they’re peering directly into my soul.

Tiegan peering into my soul is not what I need right now.

I put my phone back in my pocket without responding. Before putting the car in reverse, I take one last look at Tiegan’s passenger.

I drive the twenty-five minutes out of downtown Nashville to Jazmine’s apartment on autopilot in my mind.

Somehow, after all these months, I still remember how to get to her shithole of an apartment.

I guess it’s the universe’s way of telling me I was always going to end up back here dealing with her somehow.

I pull into Jazmine’s complex, passing kids of all ages waiting outside for the school bus to take them away to learn. I park outside of her apartment building, turn off the ignition, and take a deep breath. You can do this. There’s a chance you’re not the father. This is not a death sentence.

I walk through the breezeway of her building to the far right corner where her apartment is located and knock.

After a moment, I hear shuffling on the other end, what sounds like a curse of some kind, and finally the sound of a latch being turned.

Then there she is—Jazmine. A very pregnant Jazmine. Fuck.

“Come in,” she says, cradling her extended belly in one hand and gesturing inside with the other.

With my heart in my stomach, I enter. I take a look around her apartment while standing in the doorway. Not much has changed; it’s still a mess. Empty beer bottles are lying on the counters and it smells like stale cigarette smoke in here. This can’t be happening right now.

“How far along are you?” I ask by way of a greeting, standing just inside the door.

“The doctors said I’m due in December. A Christmas baby.”

I do the math in my head. Goddamnit!

“How sure are you that it’s mine?” I still haven’t moved.

“About ninety-five percent. There was another guy right before you, but we used a condom and I was on birth control.”

“Yeah, about that. What the fuck, Jazmine? You told me you were on the pill!”

She flinches slightly, and I immediately regret raising my voice, but I don’t apologize. “I swear I was on the pill, but I also had those few days where I had to take some antibiotics for an infection. Remember? It was around that time that we, ya know, without a condom.”

“That was one time! “ My head is spinning. I need air.

“Well, one time is all it takes, I guess. Because I’m now obviously very knocked up and you are the one that’s responsible!“ she yells back, getting the fire back in her.

“How am I supposed to believe that I was the only guy you were fucking raw at that time, huh?”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Kenny, but I’m telling you the truth.”

“Why are you just telling me? You’ve had seven months to come forward about this. Why now?”

She chews her bottom lip and avoids my gaze while absentmindedly rubbing her protruding belly.

“Tell me!”

“Because I need money! I don’t have the money I need to take care of this kid on my own.”

“You must really think I’m a sucker if you think I’m gonna give you a dime until I find out for sure that I’m the father. I don’t want to have anything to do with you. Not until the baby comes. As soon as you have it–”

“Her,” she interrupts.

“What?”

“She’s not an it. It’s a little girl.”

“Doesn’t matter if she’s a space alien—until she comes out and I get medical proof that I’m the father, don’t call me.”

I open the door to leave. Jazmine doesn’t stop me.

I call in sick for the day. I just need to be at home alone with my thoughts. I have to figure out what I’m going to do. I can’t be a dad. I’m nearly forty! The days of wanting kids came and went a long time ago.

When I pull into my driveway, I see Sam’s car.

Fuck. I really don’t want to have to tell him what’s going on, but he’s going to take one look at me and know something is up.

I can’t lie to him. This is going to affect him too.

If this kid is mine, I plan on going for at least partial custody.

Jazmine is not fit to be a full-time mother.

That was evident from one look inside her apartment today.

Therefore, this kid—my daughter— has to have a place that’s stable and welcoming.

Hot tears spring into my eyes. God, I haven’t cried since my mom died.

I don’t know how long I sit in my car, just sobbing.

It’s not until there’s a knock on my driver’s side window that I even remember what world I’m in.

Sam is standing outside my car door wearing a bright orange T-shirt with a jack-o-lantern face painted on it.

I wipe my eyes before I open my door and exit the vehicle.

“Hey, man. You’ve been sitting out here for a while. Why aren’t you at work? And have you been crying? “ he asks incredulously.

“I’ve got something to tell you, brother,” I say as I choke back another sob.

“Okay … Okay. Let’s go inside and whatever it is, we’ll figure this out together. I got your back.”

He leads the way up the stairs to the back deck, into the house, through the kitchen, and finally lands in the living room. He turns off the television and sits on our sectional couch. I take a seat opposite him in the recliner.

“Now, mind telling me what the fuck has you so worked up?” he demands to know. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cry, and I’ve known you for over twenty years now. What is going on? ”

I sit there a moment, gathering the courage to say what I’m about to. Sam is patient. He knows me well enough to not press me and that I’ll confide in him when I’m ready.

“She’s pregnant,” I finally say, choking back another sob.

“Who’s pregnant?”

“Jazmine.”

Sam has to think back. I can see him putting the name to the horror stories I told him throughout my and Jazmine’s five-week-long hookup. I never bring my hookups to the house, so Sam has never met Jazmine in person. He just knows what I tell him. Finally, he says, “Oh, fuck.”

It’s all I can do to nod my head.

“And she’s sure it’s yours?”

“Yeah, she’s pretty sure she’s mine.”

“She?” he asks.

“It’s a girl.”

Sam sits there silently for a good two minutes. “Okay. Well, what’s the game plan?”

“I told her I still don’t want anything to do with her until the baby is born. Then, if the paternity test proves that I’m the father, I’ll go for at least partial custody.”

“Does that mean we get to contact Maury?”

The edges of my lips twitch up in response to the joke. It was a good joke.

“It means,” I say, taking in a deep breath, “that I’m gonna need you to move downstairs to your studio space so the baby can have a nursery when she’s here.”

“Done.”

I’m stunned. Sam is laid-back, but I didn’t think he’d be so cool about giving up his room. “Done? You mean, you don’t mind?”

“Hell no, I don’t mind! I’m down there most of the time anyway. You know I’m only up here when there’s a Bruins game on. Besides, there’s still plenty of space to put a bed down there without it being too cramped. I’ll be fine.”

I let out the deep breath I do know I’ve been holding in. Then, I do something I never do with Sam—I hug him. I wrap my arms around him and I lose it. I don’t know how long he lets me cry on his shoulder, but he does. Finally, I pull away and wipe my face with the sleeves of my Bruins hoodie.

“I love you, brother,” I tell him, sincerely—another thing I haven’t done in a while.

“I love you, too. We’ll figure this out. We always do.”