Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 77718 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77718 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
He’s on the phone when I enter, so I just go over and take the seat across from him, putting my bag on the floor by my feet.
He lifts a finger, telling me he’ll be a minute, and I nod.
I take a moment to watch him while he’s on the phone.
My dad is a handsome man.
He’ll turn fifty next year, but he looks like he is in his early forties. His hair is full and dark with only a hint of gray at the sides. He’s this tall, gigantic beast of a man. Still in great shape for his age.
He still gets women checking him out. The hostess at the restaurant he took me to the other night was openly flirting with him. Not that he even noticed. I actually felt a little bad for her.
God, I remember the arguments it caused between him and my mom when she was still alive. I always felt bad for him because it wasn’t like he ever did anything to incite those women looking at him and flirting with him, and he never noticed back then either.
But then he never noticed my mom. Maybe that was the problem.
He’s more interested in football. Always has been, and he always will be.
He played professional football before I was born, but a knee injury took him out early in his career.
When I was a little kid, he would pick me up with one hand and sit me up on his shoulder, and I remember how safe I used to feel up there because I knew he would never let me fall.
I thought nothing and no one could ever hurt me while I had a dad who was as big and strong as he was.
How wrong I was.
“Yep, sounds good, Bill,” he says, finishing off his call. “Next week. Yep…yep. See you then.” He hangs up the phone and looks at me. “How are you doing?”
“Good. You wanted me?”
“Yeah.” He leans back in his chair, elbows on the armrests, and steeples his fingers together. “Ares has been driving you to and from work.” It’s not a question; he knows it’s a fact. “Is there anything I need to know?”
I frown. “Such as?”
“Are you dating him?”
“No.”
“Sleeping with him?”
“Jesus Christ, Dad.” I shake my head, annoyed. “Not that it’s any of your business who I date or sleep with—”
“You’re my daughter, so it is my business. And especially if it’s one of my players that you’re seeing.”
Right. So, this is actually about his precious player, not his daughter.
Why am I not surprised?
“Well, you can rest easy, Dad. I’m not doing anything with Ares Kincaid, except riding in his truck—and not riding in the biblical sense. He knew I lived in the city and that I was taking the bus in, so he offered to give me a lift.”
“So, you’re just friends?” He seems surprised that would even be an option.
Gee, thanks, Dad.
I don’t want him knowing that Ares and I hang out. If he has a problem with me riding in his truck, then he’ll definitely have a problem if he knows Ares spends time at my apartment.
“I wouldn’t say friends…but I have hung out with his sister a few times.” I say this to put his nose on a different scent.
“Missy. Yeah, I’ve met her.” He nods. “She seems like a nice girl.”
Unlike me.
“She is.”
He pauses a moment, tapping his fingers together. I stare at him, waiting for him to say whatever he thinks he needs to.
“Look, Ari…I just don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be riding around in Ares’s truck.”
“I didn’t know I needed your permission.”
His lips tighten. That’s his tell when he’s frustrated. “He’s my quarterback. You’re my daughter. People talk.”
“News flash: people always talk. It’s the beauty of the gift of speech.”
“Don’t be smart, Ari. You know exactly what I’m talking about. You’re in a vulnerable place right now, and you don’t need people talking about you.”
“More than they already have, you mean? I’m pretty sure everyone in New York knows the worst of what I’ve done. But that’s not it, is it? No, this is about Ares. You don’t want people talking about him, especially not in the same sentence as me, right? It’s bad press if people think the quarterback is lowering his standards to the coach’s messed up daughter. Well, don’t worry, Dad; Ares is most definitely not doing anything with me that will bring disrepute to his name.” Tears are stinging the backs of my eyes, so I stand. “And I’ll go back to taking the bus home from now on. Don’t want to tarnish the shiny reputation of your star player.”
“That’s not what I’m saying, and you know it.”
“Bullshit. That’s exactly what you’re saying. Trust me, Dad; I know where your loyalty lies, and it sure as hell isn’t with me.”