Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
“Fuck” falls out of my mouth.
Brady starts laughing. “Oooh, you’re in trouble.” He takes off at a run and goes right toward the person I will be working with for the next few years while I wait for Brady to learn the job.
My future agent: Uncle Damon.
And he does not look happy.
His partner, on the other hand, beams like all the drama is going to be so much fun.
I’m tempted to turn and run all the way to Shenanigans for liquid courage, but I think that might make the inevitable worse. So instead, with false bravado I don’t feel, I march right up to my family. “What’s up?”
“Cute,” Dad says dryly. “But you’re not getting out of this that easily. I don’t care what innocent faces you try to pull—I know they’re all bullshit because you get them from me. Get in the house.”
As I walk past the four adults staring at me, Dad and Pop look pissed, Damon appears sympathetic, but when I reach Uncle Maddox, he smiles and hugs me.
“I’m so proud of you, you little manwhore.”
I snort. “Thank … you?”
He keeps his arm around me as we head for inside, and then Brady darts past me.
“I’m getting popcorn.” He makes way for the kitchen.
“No you’re not,” Dad barks. “Come. Sit.”
“Why am I in trouble?” Brady asks.
“Oh, I don’t know. For staying out all night? For having your phone off? Anything could have happened to you. We thought you were dead!”
Brady looks at Pop. “Why is he always so dramatic when he’s stressed?”
“Your dad is always dramatic. Period,” Uncle Maddox says. “When he’s stressed, he just adds a serious tone to it.”
Dad turns to him. “Why did you even come? I asked for Damon.”
Uncle Maddox sits in one of the armchairs in the living room. “And miss the fireworks? Hell no. Besides, it’s the weekend. Looking forward to a Cali getaway after Damon yells at Peyton.”
“Hey,” I whine. “You were on my side out there.”
“Oh, I’m proud of you for staying out all night. So, so proud. Like, if I had ever become a parent, I would’ve wanted a slutbag like you for a son.”
“And that’s why we never became parents,” Damon says.
Maddox looks at his partner of over twenty-five years. “You said it was because your clients are like your children.”
“No, I said they act like children.”
“Hey,” Dad and Pop whine at the same time.
“Are you all done?” Uncle Damon asks.
“Yes. You may get on with your yelling.” Uncle Maddox waves a hand and then shuffles to the edge of his seat.
Uncle Damon turns to Brady. “Take notes. This is how you handle athletes who have done boneheaded, impulsive things.”
“No yelling?” Uncle Maddox sounds so dejected.
“No yelling.” Uncle Damon pulls one of the dining room chairs over into the living room and sits in front of me. “Now. How do you want to handle this situation?”
My mouth opens and closes a few times. “Isn’t that a you job?”
“Not yet. I’m still only here as your uncle.”
“May as well sign on the dotted line,” Dad says. “There’s no way your team is going to be selected for the playoff after going viral.”
“Says the guy who proposed to his husband publicly after winning the Super Bowl,” Brady mutters.
“Key words in that sentence were winning and Super Bowl. If he’d done it at the final championship, I’d be happy for him. But this couldn’t have come at a worse time.”
Okay, so Dad really is pissed. It’s rare he shows this kind of panic, and the only time I remember seeing him like this is when Brady and I were younger, and I was told to watch Brady at the mall while our dads looked at … I can’t even remember what they were looking at to buy now. I’d say we were maybe six and seven years old, so I spaced out, and Brady disappeared.
I’ve never heard Dad scream so loud as he ran through the mall trying to find him.
We did eventually find him at the ice cream stand, trying to buy ice cream with a button, but Dad’s wearing the same distraught “This is the worst thing that could happen” face.
Pop’s there with his arms around Dad’s shoulders, trying to calm him down, and now the guilt really hits me in the gut. Though Pop’s gaze when he hits mine is somewhat reassuring. He gives me a nod, and I’m thrown back to before the game last night when he told me to follow my heart.
I want to argue that I did what Pop told me to do, but now’s not the time to throw him under the bus. “We were all under the impression that if we won last night, we’d make it to the playoff. So, when I made the throw of my college career and we took the win, I got carried away with celebrating. I didn’t even think it could put the team’s spot at risk. At least, not in the moment.”