Chapter 7
SEVEN
KENNEDY
Our season ended a few weeks ago. We made the playoffs, which is great for a first-year franchise, but we got eliminated quickly. I think this team could be very good. I’m committed to a rigorous off-season workout to get myself into the best shape possible.
Sulley is off doing a photo shoot in Italy, after which she’s going to spend some time with her unworthy boyfriend and then go home to Montana through the holidays.
I can’t believe I’m going to admit this, but I’ll miss her.
She’s become a good friend and a sounding board for me.
She’s always so levelheaded. I need that in my life.
We just got off a call, where she had to talk me off the ledge.
I’ve been on the fence about going to Pierce’s senior night football game.
I’ve managed to live in Philly for over four months without having to spend any time with my mother and minimal time with my father.
I played pickleball with him once, and I’m playing with him in a tournament today.
His pickleball friends are actually kind of funny.
Pierce and I have met for a handful of meals, and I talked to him after a few of my games while managing to avoid my parents.
Sulley thinks I’ll regret it if I don’t go to his final senior year home game. The last time she saw her brother was at her high school basketball senior night. He surprised her and flew in from his deployment overseas for a short visit. It meant everything to her.
Pierce has been begging me to come. It obviously means a lot to him. I think I’m going to suffer through a few hours with my mother and go. I’m on edge about it, but Sulley was able to calm me down by helping me see the big picture.
I walk into Dad’s pickleball club, and his friend David Debois, who I met the last time we played, is standing at the entrance. I high-five him. “How’s it hanging, Double Dees?”
The man, who must be in his mid-sixties, smiles at me. “Pretty low, Triple Dees.”
I smile at his new nickname for me.
Here’s what I’ve learned about the senior men in the pickleball community.
They’re fucking perverts who also happen to think they’re the funniest human beings alive.
They also have a wiseass comment for everything.
Every little thing. And most of those comments are sexual in nature.
They’re funny as hell, and I honestly had the best time when I played with them a few weeks ago.
My father doesn’t join in on their shenanigans though.
Instead, he rolls his eyes, but I can tell he has a lot of affection for them.
While, of course, they get off on playing with the famous Jett Jeffries, they seem to genuinely like my dad. Though always a fierce competitor, he’s a bit more relaxed when he plays than I’m accustomed to seeing him. I think it’s his form of escapism.
I walk over to the bench where my father is sitting. He raises an unamused eyebrow as he takes in my outfit. “Don’t you think that skirt is a little short?”
I smile innocently. “As long as you can’t see my dick, it’s fine.”
He exhales a long breath. “Can we remember that I’m your father and we should have boundaries in how we talk to each other?” He looks around. “You’re going to give these old guys a coronary.”
I shrug as I place my paddle on the bench and remove my sweatshirt, leaving me in only a sports bra on top. He gives me a disapproving scowl. Beginning to stretch my legs and arms, I state, “Whatever it takes to win, Dad.”
He stretches his right arm across his body. “We’re both all-American athletes. We have zero chance of losing today.”
I giggle. He’s not wrong. We’re going to wipe the floor with these guys.
As I’m leaning over, stretching my hamstrings, I notice his iPhone sitting by his bag. I gasp. “Did you get a new phone? One from this century?”
He nods. “I did, and it’s confusing me. Your brother won’t help.” He picks it up and holds it out for me. “Please show me the basics. I can’t figure out how to dial. There are no numbers or buttons. How can you dial a phone without numbers and buttons?”
I bite back my smile. “It’s a touchscreen. Haven’t you ever had an iPad or anything along those lines?”
He runs his fingers through his thick, dark, wavy hair. “Nope.” His eyes meet mine. “Please. A two-minute drill. That’s all I need.”
I take his phone from him and turn it on. “What’s the passcode?”
“The salesman helped set it up for me. It’s 0-2-2-9.”
I lift my head and swallow hard. “My birthday?”
He nods. “The day I became a father. That’s my passcode for everything.
It’s also the code to my front door. You’re always welcome.
No need to knock or ring the doorbell. Just come inside.
Anytime. All the time,” he begins rambling.
“Whenever. Bring friends. The pool is closed now, but you’re always welcome to use it when it’s open in the summer. ”
I don’t acknowledge any of that as I pull up his small handful of apps. There’s one that sticks out right away. I look up at him again. “You’re on a dating app?”
His eyes widen in horror. “Oh…umm…I was just trying it. A…friend recommended it.”
“I’m surprised. I’m sure you don’t have issues meeting women.”
He licks his lips nervously as he admits, “I haven’t dated since your mom.
I plan to wait until your brother graduates.
I don’t want to confuse him.” He fidgets with the bottom of his shirt.
He’s acting like a teenager caught in the act.
“Just toying with the app. I’m sure nothing will come of it.
I want to learn how to use it before really putting myself out there. ”
What the hell? It’s not like I would ever admit this out loud, but my father is an objectively handsome man.
He also happens to be a former superstar athlete with a muscular physique and a very full bank account.
Does he not realize what a commodity he is?
If he’s not looking for skanks, why does he post all those TikTok videos of himself working out? Something doesn’t add up.
And then it occurs to me. There’s no way he has TikTok, or any social media for that matter. He didn’t even have a real phone until now. I quickly scroll through his apps. Sure enough, no TikTok. No other social media. The dating app is the only non-factory setting app on the phone.
I look back up at him again. “How have you been posting all those workout videos if you don’t have TikTok?”
He pinches his eyebrows together. “What workout videos?”
“The ones that have been a mainstay on #SilverFoxTok for two years.”
“What’s a hashbrown silver fox tock?” he asks innocently.
Before I can inquire further, David walks over to us. “Andy Tucker withdrew. I guess he’s tuckered out.” David chuckles to himself. “Will you two warm up with me?”
I nod. “Sure, Double Dees. Do you have a ball?”
He smirks. “I have two, but they’re both old.”
I snort out a laugh. “Double Dees, you’re a degenerate.”
He throws his shoulders back as he stands tall. “Proud of it.”
I guess I will add Dink and Drink Club champion to my resume.
My dad and I wiped the floor with our competition.
I barely broke a sweat. I then agreed to a short lunch with him while I showed him how to use his phone.
He was sketchy as hell about his dating app, but I gave him the tutorial he wanted and desperately needed.
I’m now walking into my brother’s game wearing his team’s sweatshirt. My father gave me one when I was with him and told me how much it means that I’m coming tonight. I reminded him that it’s for Pierce and only Pierce.
He said player announcements would begin at seven, but they’d be there by six if I wanted to come early to hang out. Fat fucking chance of that happening.
At one minute before seven, I walk into the stadium and see all the parents lined up on the sideline with their sons.
As I get closer, I notice one female player.
That’s cool. There’s a new professional women’s football league, so I guess women playing in high school will start happening more and more often.
That didn’t exist when I was in high school.
Too bad. I have a rocket of an arm. I could have been the quarterback.
Seeing my mother feels like a punch to the gut. Of course she had her hair blown out. Her face is covered in makeup for a damn high school football game. She’s probably prowling for men here.
Maybe this was a mistake. I turn to leave but hear Pierce shout, “Kennedy!”
I exhale a long breath before slowly and begrudgingly turning around. He’s running toward me. He looks so grown up in his football uniform with eye black on his face. His blond hair is messy from the helmet. But it’s the enormous grin on his face that clutches my heart. He’s so damn happy I’m here.
Suck it up for him, Kennedy. You can do anything for a few hours. Even hang out with the Wicked Witch of Philly.
He crashes into me and wraps his arms around me, lifting and then twirling me around. “Ahhh, you came. I’m so happy,” he shouts with pure glee.
He places me down, and I see tears welling in his eyes as they meet mine. He croaks out, “Thank you. This means everything.”
Fuck, now I’ve got tears in my eyes. I never cry.
He grabs my hand and brings me over toward our parents, as well as all the other seniors lined up. My father mouths, “Thank you,” as I approach. I don’t know what my mother does because I avoid eye contact with her.
I feel her grab my arm, but quickly pull away and grit out, “Don’t. I’m here for him.”
“But Ken—”
I finally look at her. I’ve done my best not to glance her way at my games and have avoided her like the plague afterward.
While I noticed she looked different, this is the first time I’ve seen her up close in a long while.
She has truly ruined her once-good looks with plastic surgery.
She’s got fillers everywhere. Her lips appear as though she was stung by ten bees.
She’s very obviously had work done on her eyes.
She basically looks like Catwoman. I don’t know why she’d do this to her face.
“I. Said. Don’t,” I practically spit. I give her a look to suggest she not make a scene because I will turn around and leave.
She has the fucking nerve to appear teary eyed. Or maybe she just can’t blink properly with all the work she’s had done to her face.
She pinches her giant, fake lips together but doesn’t otherwise say a word. Pierce seems blissfully unaware. He’s beaming as the man with the microphone begins talking about the seniors.
My parents are now on either side of Pierce. Picking the lesser of two evils, I stand on the other side of my father.
We gradually move to the front of the line.
The man on the microphone starts talking about Pierce’s accomplishments.
Holy crap, he’s super smart. He has a ton of academic awards.
It sounds like he’s a science genius. When they get to his athletic accomplishments, they’re a bit more limited, but when they get to his personal statement about what shaped him, my mind is blown.
The man talks about how Pierce mentioned how lucky he was to grow up with one of the biggest athletic superstars in the country. All eyes in the stands find my father, whose own eyes briefly turn to mine before the corners of his mouth raise ever so slightly.
The man continues, “In his personal statement, Pierce wrote, ‘While some people get to watch their idols on television, I was fortunate to live with mine. I learned what hard work and determination can achieve. What perseverance looks like. And lucky for me, I now get to see her play more often. My sister, Kennedy, is my idol.’”
What? He grew up with a Hall of Fame father and I’m his idol?
My father’s smile grows. He knew what Pierce wrote beforehand. He leans over and whispers, “Like I said, thanks for being here. He worships you.”
Pierce throws four touchdowns and runs for another. He’s quite obviously the best player on the field. At some point, I turn to my dad and ask, “Why isn’t he playing in college? He’s really good.”
He briefly tucks his lips under his teeth as if choosing his words carefully before tapping the left side of his chest. “Heart. Football isn’t in his heart.
He enjoys it like a hobby, but it’s not the air he breathes.
I think he felt pressure to do so because of me, not because it’s what he truly wanted.
He’s obviously got some talent, but he’s not like you, Kennedy.
You have this extra quality about you, and you have since you were a little girl.
It’s an inner fire that you either have or you don’t.
You had it. You still have it. He doesn’t.
He loves science. He wants to be a doctor.
You and I both know how hard it is to balance being a student and an athlete at a high level.
He shouldn’t have to sacrifice what he truly wants because he’s my son and feels like he has to follow a certain path.
” He twists his lips. “Does that make sense?”
I nod. I could never have been on the pre-med track with my basketball schedule in college. “Pierce told me you’re the one who encouraged him not to play in college.”
“That’s right. Because I just want what’s best for him. For both of you.”
“But you always pushed me.” Playing basketball was the only thing he and I ever discussed growing up.
He exhales a long breath. “If it was too much, I’m sorry. You were born to be a star, Kennedy. Sometimes your attit…strong convictions got in the way. I did what I thought was best, but I’m not perfect.” He smirks. “I suppose I’m mellowing in my old age.”
When the game is over, Pierce runs over to me and gives me the game ball he was awarded by his coach. He then proudly introduces me to all his friends.
I’m so caught up in my emotions that I somehow manage to offer his best friend, Rooster, an internship with me.
He wants to go into sports management, and Pierce begged me to take him on and show him the ropes.
I wasn’t really in a position to deny my brother anything tonight.
He said Rooster also happens to be a tech genius if I have any needs in that regard.