Page 4 of Play Maker

“Don’t question us, just do it!” my father barked.

With my father’s booming voice still ringing in my ears I left the room, feeling worse than when I first entered. No surprises there. Being around my parents always left me feeling like total shit, and I desperately wanted to run away.

I stumbled out of the building and headed across campus like a zombie. Was this really going to bemylife? Always taking their orders? Never getting out from under their grasp?

I couldn’t do it. I needed a breakaway.

By the time I got back to the dorm, changed, and headed to the pavilion, it was raining heavily, and the gloomy weather suited my mood entirely. I arrived early, but it was fine. I needed a moment to myself. That dreaded spiral of panic set in, and I just knew that no matter what I did or said, I was going to screw this up. And I also knew that tomorrow, I’d replay every word and action in my head. Only, I’d still be lost. I’d hardly want to leave my bed, never mind attending class or hitting the rink.

I sighed as I glanced up at the newest building on campus.

The inaugural international business pavilion was all glass and sharp angles, modern compared to most of the facilities on campus. It didn’t really fit in.

Kinda like you.

I entered the lobby, which was already filling up with attendees, many of them college representatives, donors, and press.

There was a sign near the elevators indicating that the private luncheon was being held on the second floor, but I decided to take the stairs. I needed the walk. Hell, I’d need to walk more than one set of stairs to settle my nerves but it would do for now.

Up here, there was hardly anyone around. It was so eerily quiet that the only sound I heard was the echo of my lonely footsteps.

Until I heard a voice somewhere down the hall.

I followed it but as I drew closer, I realized it wasn’t a stranger, but my father talking. Instead of entering the room right away, I waited outside and listened.

“I’ve had it. I don’t want Axel being brought in for any more of these events,” my father stated. “He’s more of a hindrance at this point. I don’t care about the photo ops, as soon as he opens his mouth it’s clear he won’t or can’t sell the Lund story. He’s fucking useless.”

His words didn’t shock me. Did they hurt? Yes, but I’d learned a long time ago to push that down. Feeling bad for myself didn’t get me anywhere.

I leaned in closer, but stayed behind the door, not wanting him to see me.

“He takes a great picture, and it looks good for the school and therefore for us,” my mother replied. “And we need that publicity now more than ever.”

“If you’d stop fucking every married man you meet, maybe we wouldn’t be in this position,” he snarled. “I’m done paying out hush money. There’s hardly any left to pay out.”

“Make more,” she snapped. “And like you’re one to talk when it comes to spending.”

“I spend money to make money.”

“There’s hardly any of that happening lately.”

Interesting.

“It’s a slow quarter. Property values in some markets are tumbling, and we’re all being hit hard,” he grumbled. “And here’s a novel idea, Venetia, why don’t you find a way to bring in some cash instead of sitting on your ass, or rather, lying on your back?” my father hissed.

“Fuck you, Brad. I did my part. You wanted a son to carry on the family legacy, and I gave you two.”

“Maybe if both of them were mine, I’d agree with you.”

Wait, what?

“Lower your voice,” she whispered. “He’s still a Lund, so what does it matter?”

“Really? Fucking my brother and then passing off his kid as mine doesn’t matter? You’re unreal,” he scoffed. “If Axel was a genius, I’d overlook it. But he’s not. Not even close. All he wants to do is act like a goon with that stupid hockey he’s obsessed with. Fucking idiot.”

I knew there were a lot of family secrets, but I’d never guessed one would be about me. I was suddenly nauseous, feeling like I was going to throw up, until it hit me.

They don’t want this news to get out.

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