Chapter 21 #2
I stifle a gag at the foul image, though I’m used to the degrading way my parents talk about each other.
“And since you haven’t bothered to answer any of my calls lately—”
“What do you want, Dad?” I say, cutting him off. There’s no reason not to get right to the point. He knows why I don’t answer when he calls, just like I know he’s not here to bestow his well wishes upon me.
“You’re an embarrassment, Alexander. You’re making a fool of this family, and I won’t have it anymore.”
Dad steps closer with each word, and the stink of alcohol on him makes my stomach churn.
“I’m an embarrassment to you, the sky is blue, pizza tastes good. This is all common knowledge. Was it really that important that you had to pull me out of the locker room before a game to remind me?”
“I tolerated your bullshit when you were in Boston. No one gave two shits about you there. You could play your ridiculous game and pretend that wielding a stick on skates made you a man, even if you spent your time off the ice wearing your fruity outfits and acting like a bitch. But now that the media is paying attention to you and this team, I won’t have it any longer. ”
My eyes roll so far back into my head that for a second, I’m worried they might get stuck back there.
“You came all the way from Chicago to tell me you don’t like my clothes? What a waste of carbon emissions. Newsflash, man, I didn’t give a shit what you thought about me when I was a teenager and you tried to beat my personality out of me with your belt, and I especially don’t give a shit now.”
“Don’t you dare talk to me like that. I’ve let you get away with too much, but it’s over now. You want to be a silly little hockey player? Fine. But you’ll do so in a way that brings respect to our family’s name.”
“I could not give less of a fuck about our family’s name if I tried.
Why don’t you save us both the trouble of trying to change me and just publicly disown me?
Then I can continue to live my life not thinking about you and Mom, and the two of you can continue to drink yourselves to death while pretending like your place in society will matter after you’re gone. ”
I turn to leave, my motions slower than I’d like since I’m restricted by all my padding.
“I’ll cut you off,” Dad threatens, and I snort.
“Dude, I haven’t touched my trust fund. Not once. The last thing I took from you was my college tuition. Want it back? I’ll cut you a check right now. Just fucking leave me alone.”
This time, I make it halfway out the door before he calls out again.
“You’ll ruin that little boyfriend of yours, too.”
I turn, feeling the color drain from my face at Dad’s words.
“That’s right. I’ve seen the videos. I know what you and the football player are doing behind closed doors.
You think the world is all sunshine and rainbows, but what happens when the media figures out that the two of you are fucking?
Oh, the press will just have a field day with that one.
San Francisco’s football hero with the golden leg, shacking up with the disgraced, ousted heir to the Holmes fortune?
What happens when your mediocrity rubs off on Elliot Baker, and the city blames you when the Redwoods sink their chances at The Big Game?
Think he’ll still give a shit about you and your dick when you’ve ruined his career, the same way you’re ruining your whole life? ”
It’s bullshit. I know it is. It’s all insane words coming from the mouth of a drunk, pathetic man who cares more about what the other fucks at the golf course think about him than his own son.
None of what my dad is saying even makes any sense.
Like my love for glitter and fanny packs and hair accessories has any effect on the world, whatsoever.
Who I am and what I do has no effect on anyone but me.
He’s just spewing shit at me to try to get under my skin because I won’t let him control me. I’ve never let Conor Holmes’s manipulation get to me before.
But this time, he found the one thing that gives me pause.
Elliot.
All this time, I’ve just wanted to be good for him. To be worthy of him.
Even if the crap my dad said makes no logical sense, it’s in my head now.
What if I’m not good enough for Elliot? Why did I think I ever could be? I can’t even keep the one promise I made to him when we started this whole hookup superstition.
I can’t go back to being his friend after I’ve fallen in love with him. And I can’t tell him that I love him knowing that he won’t feel the same way.
“Fuck. You.” I spit, slamming open the door and leaving my dad in the empty press room.
“Good luck out there, son,” he calls after me, a sinister, cloying hint to his tone, and I can feel the rush of all the good karmic energy I’ve harvested in my life flying out the window.
For the first time since I met Elliot at that club downtown, I step onto the ice feeling unconfident in my abilities and unsure of myself.
And I’m worried that everything I’ve gained in the last few weeks is about to be taken out from under me.