Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 37217 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 186(@200wpm)___ 149(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37217 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 186(@200wpm)___ 149(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
“Cami?”
“He asked me to blow him, Dad. Happy?”
“He did what?”
“Yeah. Asked me to blow him. And when I said no, he kept trying to pressure me. Thank God Carter was there to make him leave me alone.”
“Are you sure he wasn’t just joking around? I mean, he’s kind of an odd duck, honey. He’s got a strange sense of humor—”
“It wasn’t a joke. He was dead serious. And don’t give me that boys will be boys bullshit. That boy is a sexual predator.”
“He’s young—”
“Still not an excuse for that kind of behavior. Sexual harassment is not okay.”
A wistful, nostalgic smile touches his lips. “You sound just like your mother.”
“She taught me well. She taught me to never accept bad behavior and never be afraid to call it out. But I'm making a concerted effort to hold my tongue and not cause a scene. I know how fragile the egos of some of these guys are.”
He sighs and runs a hand through his short salt-and-pepper hair. He seems caught between being an outraged father and a head coach. My dad looks down at the floor for a moment, trying to find the right words to say. Not that I don’t already know. Part of my dad’s job is to protect the team and all the players who wear our uniform—especially from themselves. And that means handling some things in-house, which is just a euphemism for sweeping things under the rug.
When he looks up and I see the look in his eye, I know that’s exactly what is about to happen. I’m tempted to hand him a broom and a dustpan. But I knew that was part of the deal when I signed on to work here after graduating. And I signed on anyway. For the most part, I like working with my dad. But I also want the experience I’m getting here because I’ve got bigger plans for my future—plans that don’t include being sexually harassed by entitled, douchebag frat bros who think they’re God’s gift to the world.
“It’s fine, Dad,” I tell him. “It’s over. I doubt it will happen again, so it’s fine.”
He sighs. “It’s not fine. But you know how things are. Football organizations are like—”
“Please don’t give me the ‘Football organizations are like delicate ecosystems’ speech again. I can’t hear that right now.”
He chuckles softly and nods to himself. My dad likes to say a football organization is a delicate ecosystem that requires all things to be in harmony and balance. That is simply a nice way of saying these thin-skinned million-dollar babies need to be coddled, pampered, and made to feel special because a football team needs all the different pieces of this fragile ecosystem working together. He says if one piece of the ecosystem is disrupted—meaning having one butthurt superstar pouting and brooding like a child—it might just throw the entire system out of balance, which could be catastrophic for the entire football team.
I swear to God, most of these guys have egos that are more fragile than spun sugar. I’ve seen children with thicker skin than some of these guys.
“I’m going to have a word with him,” my father finally says. “I’ll take care of this, honey.”
“Honestly, Dad, just leave it alone. It’s fine. Besides, Carter stepped in and had a word. I doubt Ryder’s going to bother me again.”
He frowns. “I suppose I’ll be having a word with Carter as well since that’s not his job.”
“Dad, seriously… just leave it be. It’s been settled. If you go barking at people and throwing your weight around now, you’re only going to make things worse. And we wouldn’t want to upset the delicate ecosystem, would we?”
My dad looks like a man who just dodged a big bullet. The expression that crosses his face is almost one of relief. I think part of him expects me to demand he do something about his prized rookie quarterback, which would have been my right. The organization has a zero-tolerance sexual harassment policy. On paper, at least. But punishing Ryder for his horrible behavior will likely piss him off, thus upsetting the ecosystem’s fragile balance. And we can’t have that, can we?
“Well, let me know if anything like that ever happens again, Cami.”
“Sure, Dad.”
He gets to his feet and gives me a small smile. He knows I’m not pleased about how this situation is being handled but seems appreciative that I’m not going to make a federal case about it and risk causing strife within the team. I’m nothing if not a team player.
“Dinner tonight?” he asks.
“Sounds good.”
“Okay, I’ll see you later.”
He leaves my office, softly closing the door behind him. I slump back in my seat and blow out a frustrated breath. I’m not the sort of girl who needs somebody to stand up for me. My mom taught me to never rely on anybody else but to be strong enough to stand on my own two feet. But still, it would be nice to know that my father values me more than he values the football team. I mean, I understand the position he’s in. I do. But I wonder how it will feel if he’s just my dad for a change and doesn't stop to think through the ramifications to the whole team when somebody does something terrible to me.