I look down at the little white stick in my hands.

Two lines.

Two fucking-proof-positive lines!

Fuck yeah! Number four, baby! I mentally dance a little jig. Bastian's gonna lose. Bastian's gonna lose, I sing-song in my head.

I can't believe it. I am going to win that bet we made over the summer and this crying bitch is gonna help.

I look up—Cindy? Candy? Oh, yeah, Sammy—is balling her eyes out asking me what we're gonna do about her recently confirmed pregnancy. She's blathering on about finding the cash for an abortion. Damn! Can't have that. "We'll keep it," I tell her. Of course she'll keep it. She better damn well keep it. Keep it long enough for her belly swell with the proof of my virility. How else will I win that bet?

Hot damn! A month ago, I felt sure Bastian was gonna win, but then this! Two confirmations in one week. I'm riding the endorphine high as Sammy continues to cry about how she's let her family down. Blah. Blah. Blah.

Bastian has two confirmed pregnancies, maybe three, so I might have already won. It would have been a shoo-in if I could just remember the names of those two chicks from that frat party a few months ago. I think one of them was pregnant for sure and "took care of it" on the sly. I shrug mentally and force myself back to the game at hand. Poor little Sammy needs some TLC.

"Don't worry about a thing, baby doll," I say as I wrap my arms around her. "I'll be right here for you every step of the way." At least 'til it's born. I lean back and grasp her shoulders, gently pushing her until she looks at me. "I promise," I say. "It will be all right."

Sammy nods and sniffs. She goes to wrap her arms around me and I let her. Man I want to fuck. I wonder if she's willing? That was one thing I always made sure of.

Consent. Gotta have that. No rape charges for me, thank you very much.

I want to shake my head, but don't. I'll save my budding lust for Christy—my date for later tonight. I'm hoping she'll carry little number five.

Quickly, I go through the math again. About two weeks ago, on our last date, I learned—naturally, when she turned me down—that she was on the rag. So that means she should be good and fertile by now. The thought of Christy helping me toward my goal has me popping a woody, but thankfully Sammy doesn't seem to notice. Or she doesn't care. Doesn't matter. My mind circles back to Christy—naked—and the condoms in my back pocket, my wallet, and my glovebox. They are my special brand. I won't use anything else. The fact they are poked so full of holes they might as well be Swiss cheese is something I keep to myself. All my girls need to know is I'm being safe.

I laugh out loud.

Safe.

What a load of shit.

"What?" Sammy asks, clearly confused.

"I'm just so happy and excited," I tell her. It's only a little white lie. "I can't believe I'm a father." ...times four... I snicker.

She smiles timidly at me. Everything about her begs for reassurance from her rounded shoulders to her tear filled eyes. I pull her into another hug. As I rest my chin on the top of her head, I grin. There are two lines on the stick in my hands.

Oh, yeah! I'm gonna win!