Page 6 of Strong Side

Not Clayton Aldrich, son of the legendary Charles Aldrich.

Just. Clay.

So here I am, sending a text to my best friend and ex-partner about the man who drives me up a fucking wall—who also happens to be my new partner—before driving across town to practice.

Clay

Are you sure you can’t come back?

Jax

Yeah, let me just hop in my time machine and unfuck my knee.

I snort a laugh.

Clay

Okay, okay. Easy killer. Someone's alittle grumpy today?

Jax

I had a meeting with my new physical therapist and Theo this morning to outline my recovery program. So yeah, I’m a little fucking grumpy.

Feeling slightly bad that I poked fun at him when I know I would hate being in his shoes, I answer:

Clay

I really am sorry, man. I would kill to have you back on that court with me.

Jax

I know you are. Just give him a chance, Clay. The guy might surprise you.

Sighing, knowing Jax is right, I pocket my phone as I climb into my Mercedes-AMG CLS, ready to put my differences with Rockwell Campos aside and make the most out of my senior year. I spent the last day and a half anxiously baking in my apartment, trying to make sense of all the thoughts swimming around in my head. I wouldn’t be surprised if I gained ten pounds from the amount of cookies I consumed. In the end though, I’ve decided I’m not going to let his shitty attitude andconstant need to see the world half-empty get in my way of achieving my dreams.

I’m just about to pull onto campus when my phone rings through the car. I look at the dash, and as if he knew I thought about him for only a second, my father’s name lights up the screen. Letting it ring a couple more times, mentally preparing myself for what I know this conversation is going to be about, I inhale a deep breath and reluctantly hit the answer button on the steering wheel.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Why am I just now finding out that Jackson got hurt?” No, “Hi, son. How are you?” Because there never is. He only ever calls me for two things: school and volleyball.

“I’m assuming you talked to Coach Taylor?”

“I called him to see how your first few days back after the break were.” Of course, he did. “Imagine my surprise when he told me Rockwell Campos was your new partner.” He says Rocky’s name as if the words are poison on his tongue.

I should have known he would have talked to Coach Taylor eventually. The two of them used to be doubles partners when my dad won silver in the Olympics. He was twenty-eight when it happened. Cameron Taylor and Charles Aldrich were two of the best players the sport has ever seen. I wasonly two, so I don’t remember any of it. Not that it matters because the old man talks about it like it happened yesterday. Once my dad retired, he started a small real estate company. However, with his and my mother’s family connections, that small company quickly grew, and Aldrich Real Estate is now a Fortune 500 company. My dad spent his entire life working, and my mother spent her entire life acting as Miami’s leading socialite. If it weren’t for Marissa, the household nanny and housekeeper, I would have had no parental figure in my life whatsoever.

It was all a linear equation. The more successful my father became, the more ruthless he grew to be. The more ruthless he became, the more disassociated my mother became. The more dissociated my mother became, the less our house felt like home. The faster our home fell apart, the harder my father pushed me to become a mirror image of him. And the more he pushed, and the less my mother tried to stop him, the ball of resentment that festered inside of me grew until it rivaled the size of Jupiter. Now, all that’s left is the occasional phone call where he never fails to remind me that my actions and behavior are a direct reflection of him and his image.

“Yes, Rocky is my partner now.” I don’t divulge any extra information. I’ve learned the less I say, the faster hecan berate me and the sooner this entire conversation can be over with.

“And what exactly are you going to do about it?”

“What do you mean what am I going to do about it?”

His exaggerated sigh sounds through the interior of the car like the soundtrack to my entire life. “How do you expect to win with a partner likehim?”

A partner like him? An unfamiliar protective instinct rears its head. “Rocky is a great player. One of the best I’ve ever seen, actually.”

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