Page 11 of In the Safety's Zone
“Call me Ashe.”
I kept my face impassive as I heard my father turn on the charm that he only reserved for people he wanted to fuck. The sad thing about this was, this girl knew the game and still looked like she was interested. Her kissing his ass when she’d talked about mygood genetic advantagewas spot on. I thought for sure fraternization on these types of shoots were a no go but from the way she perked up when he spoke she either didn’t care, knew she had the complexion for protection, or knew someone high enough up that her job wasn’t in jeopardy.
She angled her body toward my father as if I was no longer a part of the conversation and I wanted to get up and leave. I was so tired of him doing this. Of making me uncomfortable with his actions because he wouldn’t respect my mother enough not to fuck around. And he wouldn’t respect me enough to keep that shit away from me. It was one reason I tried my hardest to stay away from people like him. Especially after I had gotten away from one.
“So Ashe, how does it feel to have a daughter that people are calling a protégé?”
“I mean she’s a little too old to be a protégé don’t you think?”
They shared a laugh that was clearly at my expense and I knew for sure I’d be relaying to Billy everything I could about this chick so that she was blackballed from ever being able to interview me again. I had pull and none of it was because of my father. In the past, I had been remiss in exercising it because I didn’t want to be labeled as difficult or someone who thought she was too good. But now? I’d use everything I had to make sure this chick was covering high school athletes if she wasn’t fired.
“I think the word you’re confusing is ingenue. I’m not young enough to be an ingenue, at least not anymore.”
They were not about to clown me like I wasn’t part of the conversation and my words let them both know they hadn’t bothered me at all with their dig. Trying to call me old at twenty-five was in fact laughable. Especially since Ashlei with an i had to be around my age.
Folks don’t understand hypocrisy at all.
“Well, you’re not my protégé. My style of play was far more aggressive. I saw the ball and attacked it like I would do with any other aspect of life: with vigor and the stamina to go for as many sets as needed in order to secure the victory.”
This shit was so fucking inappropriate and even still, after all these years, I wasn’t desensitized to how he flirted. My skin always crawled when he behaved this way, whether it be an interviewer, a server or a teacher at one of my schools. There wasn’t a female tennis coach within the entire state who hadn’t either been hit on by him or fallen to his charms.
Thank God Terri isn’t like that.
“That sounds incredibly promising. Maybe it is something that we can delve into a bit more later.”
From the grin on her face, I knew that she was going to be the next notch on his unenviably long belt of conquests and I had to stifle a sigh that threatened to break through watching the two of them. I shifted slightly and Ashlei, with an i, had the good sense to remember I was in the room. My father had no qualms and continued to flirt with her despite my being here.
The large warehouse space had been sectioned off, with some families being interviewed and others jumping straight into the photo portion. My father canceled the car I’d ordered at the last minute insisting that he drive into the city. My mother, of course, was thrilled since she bought his bullshit about wanting to spend time together. Our time would’ve been far more quality if we’d had someone driving so he could focus on me and not the road, but common sense went out the window a lot with her.
When we’d arrived, he’d complained about the parking and the number of other people who were inside to be interviewed. In his mind, he was still the great Ashe Harper and people should’ve been rolling out the red carpet to be in his presence. He’d insulted everyone who was trying their best to wrangle this massive production of people their helpers and egos. I was shocked my father didn’t have some of his people show up to make him feel even more important. I’d learned early on to keep my circle small because his entourage was happy to hang around when money was being spent. They were always gone when it was time for actual work to be done. I refused to have a ton of people around me and if my agent or my PR rep couldn’t come with me somewhere; I was normally solo.
We went through the rest of the routine questions before she wrapped up the interview but tapped her phone to my father’s so they could exchange contact informationin case she needed more information for the article. I knew it was bullshit because she didn’t bother to do the same with me.
“You could’ve been nicer about my performance.”
I shouldn’t have had to say this to him but he looked completely unbothered by the way he’d spoken about me to the interviewer. I wasn’t sure what they were going to salvage from this interview but I was going to make the day a decent one despite what he said. Ashlei had sent us on to the next station we needed to get to, which was finding the person who had designed our photoshoot. I tried to hold my tongue but I was going to be pissed if I kept it inside and it would come through on the photos.
“Perform better and then I will give you praise without it being a lie.” He looked serious but the twinkle in his eye was one that showed how he enjoyed putting me in my place.
I stopped walking more than ready to have this conversation with him that had caused such a large divide between us. It wasn’t like we were ever close to begin with.
“So what is it? What will it take for you to acknowledge that I’ve done a good job?”
“When you actually train the way I want you to.”
His hands went into his pockets and he waited for me to argue back with him. There were people milling around and I tried to keep my voice down so they would stay out of our business.
“So it’s not the result; it’s the fact that I’m winning without your help that’s bothering you? Got it.”
I nodded and went back to walking where we needed to go. I knew I would never make him happy because the way he wanted me to train was dangerous. My father decided that I needed to train nonstop every day of the week. That type of intensity would not only lead to injury but would also break down my joints faster than with the way I was playing.
“I didn’t say that—”
“You did but it’s fine. We can always agree that your way of training had me missing half the tournaments I played inbecause I was riddled with injuries and strains. You want me to train like a linebacker and I’m not.”
“You are always so concerned with saying stuff like that. Like I’m misogynistic or something.”
I chuckled at his faux outrage because I’d heard him frequently lamenting how he should’ve had a son with my mother to carry on his legacy. Like my existence meant nothing to him.
