Page 12 of Run the Play
“Stop.” Foster holds his hands up in the air. “If we get him started talking about Corie, this will turn into a love fest, and we’re manly men playing poker.” He puffs his chest out, and Baker tosses a pretzel at him.
“Are we playing poker or what?” Knox asks.
“Deal us in.” Reid raps his knuckles on the table. Foster deals out the cards just as there’s a knock at the door.
“I wonder who that could be?” Baker glances at his cards and shakes his head. “I fold.” Tossing the cards back on the table, he stands to answer the door.
The game continues without Baker. My hand is shit, but I try to bluff, and it ends up kicking me in the ass because Knox wins the pot. He’s raking in his winnings when Baker comes back into the room, which causes us all to turn and look.
He’s not the same man who walked away from the table. No. This version of Baker is white as a ghost, and his eyes have fear in them. Instantly, we’re all on alert.
“What is it?” I ask, standing. I’m ready to be there for one of my best friends.
Baker stands motionless. He doesn’t speak, and I’m pretty sure his eyes aren’t even focused as he stares at the wall.
“Baker?” Knox stands and moves toward him. Still, there’s no reaction.
The door down the hall opens and makes us all sit up straighter. Whoever was at the door is still here. By this point, we’re all on our feet and ready for… I don’t know what. Battle? To comfort our friend? We don’t know, but whatever this is, we’re here for him.
Knox, Reid, Foster, and I stand in a line, arms crossed over our chests, facing our friend. We’re waiting for the newcomer to present themselves, and it doesn’t take long. She comes aroundthe corner, her blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail, and I recognize her immediately.
Natasha Gillman.
My eyes rake over her, looking for why her presence would make Baker freeze up like he has, and that’s when I see it.
She’s pregnant.
My eyes widen, and my mouth falls open in shock. One of the guys coughs, but I can’t tell you which one because I can’t stop staring at her very pregnant belly.
“Hi,” Natasha says. She’s standing with her hand on her belly, her hair and makeup perfectly placed as if she’s ready to walk the runway. She’s not smiling, and the way she’s chewing on her bottom lip tells me she’s nervous, but trying not to show it.
I snap out of my trance and move my attention to her. She waves, but I don’t wave back. I’m trying to wrap my head around this, but the pieces of the puzzle and Baker's reaction tells me everything I need to know.
This is his baby.
I think back to our meeting with my sister; she needed someone to volunteer to go to some charity thing with Natasha, and Baker was quick to offer his services. Not because she’s a beautiful supermodel, but because the alternative was the nursing home where little old Ms. Margaret likes to sink her talons into his ass. He thought he was taking the lesser of two evils.
Apparently, that night went better than he let on.
“Baker,” Foster speaks up. “What’s going on?”
“I think you all should go so Baker and I can talk,” Natasha says as she rubs her belly.
“No,” Knox speaks up. “We’re not leaving him unless he tells us to go.”
“Sinclair, my man, you need to tell us what you need. What can we do?” I ask.
“Do you want us to go?” Reid asks.
We’re tossing out questions left and right, and he’s still just standing there with his pale complexion and lost eyes, not responding. It’s not until Natasha places her hand on his arm that he flinches away from her touch, and his eyes come back into focus.
“Don’t.” His voice is gritty, and you can’t hide the undertone of menace.
“We should talk,” she says, tossing her hair over her shoulder.
Baker seems to be pulling himself together as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Then talk.”
Natasha eyes the wall that we’ve created. “Alone.”
