All We've Got Is Basketball (Blake Griffin FanFic)

Chapter 20

I was sitting downstairs at the bar, on my phone as usual. It was an odd day in Los Angeles. It was storming. After this huge drought we had been having, this was different. A good different? No. I hated the rain. The house was dead silent. No Blake, Chris, DJ, not even any of the girls. I placed my phone down, and walked into the living room. I remembered I had left my purse upstairs, and decided to run upstairs and get it. I ran up the stairs and looked to the chair, but my purse wasn't there. The chair wasn't there. Instead it was a purple room, with cartoon animals and letters on the wall. There was a crib in the corner, with a banner over head, saying 'Welcome to the World, Hope.' What? A baby? I looked down, none other to see my stomach the size of a watermelon. What? I'm pregnant? "Blake? Blake!" I called out. No answer. "DJ? Chris? Anyone?" I repeated, walking down the stairs. I heard the door leading to the guest house, creak open, and I held my breath. Who could that be? "Chris?" I repeated. No answer. I kept my eyes on the hallway that lead to the door.

"Morgan," a voice said in front of me. I turned to see a man standing there, dressed in camouflage. He had a camera around his neck, and he held up his hands. "I'm not here to hurt you if you cooperate." Cooperate?

"Get the hell out of my house," I said, quickly. My heart rate was racing. He didn't show any sign of moving. "Where's Chris and DJ?" I asked, assuming he knew who they were.

"Chris? Chris Paul? Out with his kids," he said nonchalantly leaning against my staircase. I noticed he had a swollen cheek, which had bruised over, going to his eye. "DJ... after Amber broke up with him, he was kicked off the team and became a drug addict. Sad, indeed. Your husband's out shopping for your kid. Hope, right? Already got pictures of the room. Cute with the animals..." I cut him off.

"Get out," I repeated. "Wait, husband?" I questioned. I was pretty sure he said husband.

"Yes," he said like I was going crazy. Maybe I was. "Your husband, Blake." He reminded me. "Star Power Forward for the Los Angeles Clippers. A total dick."

"Get out," I repeated for the third time. This guy was really persistent.

"See, I would," he said, shifting his body weight on the staircase. He took a step toward me and I took a step back. I felt my back pocket for my phone, but it wasn't there. Dammit, I left it on the bar. "But you're dickhead, Blake, smashed my half a million dollar camera with his fist, and also did some other destruction to my face. So now, I'm going to destroy something that's his." The man reached into his pocket, retrieving a small handgun. He pointed it straight to my head. "What do you say we take a drive?"

This is a dream if you haven't noticed, lol.