this week.
“It’s time for a change, Logan,” he says.
I pace about the locker room. Thankfully, I’m the only one here because I really want to punch someone.
“Your mother and I both agree that a wife would be in everyone’s best interest,” he says.
He means his best interest. It’s always about the family which means him. I have two sisters, and he never talks about them, never criticizes them. They’re off studying in Europe, and he never puts the whole weight of the world on their shoulders. It’s bullshit.
“You’re asking me to get married?” I haven’t felt timid since I was four years old.
Despite my interest in Tamber, I am not the marrying type. The fact that I even want another chance with her is a landmark for me. Unless she called me, I was all set to hit the clubs tonight to get her out of my head. Now my dad is coming at me with this shit.
“Son, I’m not asking. I’m telling. We’ve selected a bride for you. She’s upper crust. Appropriate. Beautiful and talented. She understands what it means to be an Oliver,” he says.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I ask, anger dripping in my voice.
That sets him off. Dad doesn’t brook disagreement very well.
“You know exactly what the fuck it means. You’re an Oliver. Certain people expect certain things of you. These kinds of people don’t tend to care for your late night antics. It reflects poorly on your character. And it reflects poorly on the family.”
I’m silent on the phone as my father takes over my entire life, threatening to marry me off. In the back of my mind, I was always afraid this day would come. Part of getting into football was an escape. I thought if I earned millions, then my dad wouldn’t be able to touch me. When I was a kid playing ball in high school, I had these fantasies about disowning the family, going my own way. Stupid me comparing my potential millions to his very real billions. And I’m his only son.
“Who is she?” I ask, slumping against my locker.
“Katerina Prescott,” he says.
I know the name. She’s from New York, a fashion model. Her parents have their money in all kinds of stocks. Century of wealth just like us. So I should be happy right? I’m silent on the phone, yet my dad keeps talking.
“She’s beautiful. You should be happy. A wife, a couple of kids. All this media attention will go away,” he says. I’m not so sure about that, but that’s the bubble my dad lives in. Then I get it. He’s not saying they’ll leave me alone because I’m married, he’s saying that a wife will get me to settle down. They’ll leave me alone because there won’t be anything worth reporting.
“Sure dad,” I mutter. I’ll be in the billionaire bubble before I know it. Everything I’ve done, all the work I put in to make it to the pros will be for nothing.
“I’m glad we see eye to eye for once, son,” he says.
Then an idea pops into my head and out of my mouth. I’m not sure why I say it. Maybe it’s nerves, a touch of panic. Maybe it’s the shrewdest move I’ve ever made. Whatever the reason, I blurt out something that completely changes everything. I call an audible on the whole situation.
“I got engaged last weekend dad,” I say. “I was waiting tell you when the time was right.”
Dad hangs up the phone without even saying another word. That’s how I know he’s really mad.
Of course there is no girl. I don’t even know what I’m doing or why I said it. All I know is that I’m marrying some girl I’ve never met. I figure if I can bluff my dad for a few days that will at least give me time to figure out a way out of this.
I grab my phone and pull up the news, wondering what the fuck my dad was complaining about. Nothing I did this week was worth the paparazzi reporting on me.
Then I see it.
“Oh shit.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Tamber
Gwen ambushed me last night when I walked through the door after saying goodnight to Logan. However I was
“It’s time for a change, Logan,” he says.
I pace about the locker room. Thankfully, I’m the only one here because I really want to punch someone.
“Your mother and I both agree that a wife would be in everyone’s best interest,” he says.
He means his best interest. It’s always about the family which means him. I have two sisters, and he never talks about them, never criticizes them. They’re off studying in Europe, and he never puts the whole weight of the world on their shoulders. It’s bullshit.
“You’re asking me to get married?” I haven’t felt timid since I was four years old.
Despite my interest in Tamber, I am not the marrying type. The fact that I even want another chance with her is a landmark for me. Unless she called me, I was all set to hit the clubs tonight to get her out of my head. Now my dad is coming at me with this shit.
“Son, I’m not asking. I’m telling. We’ve selected a bride for you. She’s upper crust. Appropriate. Beautiful and talented. She understands what it means to be an Oliver,” he says.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I ask, anger dripping in my voice.
That sets him off. Dad doesn’t brook disagreement very well.
“You know exactly what the fuck it means. You’re an Oliver. Certain people expect certain things of you. These kinds of people don’t tend to care for your late night antics. It reflects poorly on your character. And it reflects poorly on the family.”
I’m silent on the phone as my father takes over my entire life, threatening to marry me off. In the back of my mind, I was always afraid this day would come. Part of getting into football was an escape. I thought if I earned millions, then my dad wouldn’t be able to touch me. When I was a kid playing ball in high school, I had these fantasies about disowning the family, going my own way. Stupid me comparing my potential millions to his very real billions. And I’m his only son.
“Who is she?” I ask, slumping against my locker.
“Katerina Prescott,” he says.
I know the name. She’s from New York, a fashion model. Her parents have their money in all kinds of stocks. Century of wealth just like us. So I should be happy right? I’m silent on the phone, yet my dad keeps talking.
“She’s beautiful. You should be happy. A wife, a couple of kids. All this media attention will go away,” he says. I’m not so sure about that, but that’s the bubble my dad lives in. Then I get it. He’s not saying they’ll leave me alone because I’m married, he’s saying that a wife will get me to settle down. They’ll leave me alone because there won’t be anything worth reporting.
“Sure dad,” I mutter. I’ll be in the billionaire bubble before I know it. Everything I’ve done, all the work I put in to make it to the pros will be for nothing.
“I’m glad we see eye to eye for once, son,” he says.
Then an idea pops into my head and out of my mouth. I’m not sure why I say it. Maybe it’s nerves, a touch of panic. Maybe it’s the shrewdest move I’ve ever made. Whatever the reason, I blurt out something that completely changes everything. I call an audible on the whole situation.
“I got engaged last weekend dad,” I say. “I was waiting tell you when the time was right.”
Dad hangs up the phone without even saying another word. That’s how I know he’s really mad.
Of course there is no girl. I don’t even know what I’m doing or why I said it. All I know is that I’m marrying some girl I’ve never met. I figure if I can bluff my dad for a few days that will at least give me time to figure out a way out of this.
I grab my phone and pull up the news, wondering what the fuck my dad was complaining about. Nothing I did this week was worth the paparazzi reporting on me.
Then I see it.
“Oh shit.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Tamber
Gwen ambushed me last night when I walked through the door after saying goodnight to Logan. However I was
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