Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
“I just don’t get why you’re calling to ream me right now. At this moment. I’ve been suspended for weeks, and you couldn’t bother to call me then. Why’re you so pressed now?”
The sound of a lighter flicking could be heard through the phone. The man had gone most of his life without picking up a cigarette, and he’d decided to pick up the habit at forty. In my opinion, that should have disqualified him from ranting at me about good life choices.
“You know, Adrián, I tried to raise you the right way.”
“Yeah. You did. Raised me to be a winner.”
“I’m not talking about that,” he said sharply. “And you know it.”
“How would I know that? I grew up being Rosendo Bravo’s son, the best pitcher in the MLB, and you wanted me to rise to that occasion. Now I’m a fuckup.”
“You’re not a fuckup. You just make bad choices.”
Sighing loudly, I watched Simeon kneel beside Brayden and give one of his pep talks. The guy was fantastic at it. I was all about planning and getting the kids in line, but he had the soft touch I could never muster. And it worked. Before my eyes, Brayden went from sullen to smiling and nodding. Fucking Simeon.
“I wonder what the fans would think if they knew linebackers with big contracts still got lectured by their pops?”
“They probably wouldn’t be surprised. You have fame and money and a career, but you’re not thirty in age or twenty in maturity. Get it together.”
“Get what together? My suspension is not a new development, Dad.”
“No, but this is.”
“What—” The sound of an email notification filled my ear. Sighing, I said, “Hold on, and then I gotta go. Kids are waiting.”
He muttered something in Spanish about me going through “all of this” to end up a peewee football coach. My dad. Such an understanding guy. His saltiness was amusing for a hot second until I scanned the article he’d just sent over.
Bravo’s and Boudreaux’s Suspension Gets Cozy
Beneath the headline was a picture. My heart stopped as I realized it’d been taken from outside the diner, but it started again when I realized none of the erotic finger-sucking had been captured by the creepy photog. It was just us laughing over a million pancakes.
“Okay, and?” I said. “It’s a good picture. We’re being all friendly and shit, and my edges look fresh.”
“It looks like you’re on a date.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes, I am serious. You’re supposed to be coaching kids, not having meals together. What were you thinking?”
“Wait—” I stood up on the bleachers. “How—hold up. You’re criticizing me for sharing a meal with the dude I have to hang with for a month and a half? That’s all you’ve got?”
“I’m criticizing you for not being bright enough to anticipate how the media would spin you sharing a meal with a gay man.”
My jaw dropped, and I looked over at Simeon again. He was high-fiving Delilah as the other kids gathered in a circle. As if sensing my gaze, he looked over his shoulder and motioned for me.
Anger gathered in my chest in a way it rarely did. “I always knew you didn’t love the gays, but damn. I didn’t know you refused to break bread with them, Pops. Not very Catholic of you, is it? What would Jesus say?”
“Jesus would tell my pendejo of a son to take his career seriously and be mindful.”
“All righty then. I’m hanging up.”
“Adrián.” My father rarely yelled, so when he raised his voice even a little it had the impact of rolling thunder. I could feel it in my bones. “Don’t turn me into a villain. I am proud of you, of our family, for doing ten times as much as the people who always thought less of us. I just don’t want anything to ruin it for you.”
Irritation softened like melting butter. He never complimented me. Rarely ever said he was proud. Not because he didn’t love me, I’d never questioned that, but because he subscribed to the old-school belief that the moment he lightened up . . . I’d start tripping.
“I got you, Dad. Don’t worry.”
We hung up, but I kept my phone in my hand.
“Bravo,” Simeon shouted across the field. “Come on!”
“Give me a second!”
I opened Twitter, stared at the screen for a second, and then grinned.
Oh snap . . . one lunch w/ @SimeonBoudreaux and the paps are already planning our wedding. We better hurry before it’s outlawed again!
J/K there’s about seventy ladies w/ bowlegs who can tell y’all about how straight I am. People need to calm down with the gay panic shit.
The first reply I got was from Rocky Swoops.
@AdriánBravo ey boy you better watch it with that gay ally shit lmao remember who you’re coming back to
@SwoopsR_ You staking your claim on my friendship, Swoops? Lol