Page 3 of In the Safety's Zone
“You never want me to speak my mind.”
That was the furthest thing from the truth. I wanted her to speak her mind, just not to me. She was always mum when it was important.
“Speaking your mind isn’t a problem. It’s just when you rehash the same topics repeatedly when they’ve already been asked and answered. You were the one who was worried about my eating so I got a nutritionist. But somehow, that hasn’t eased your concerns. You seem just as concerned now that I’ve consulted a professional.”
She looked uneasy because she knew she didn’t have a leg to stand on. My mother wanted me to blindly trust her and follow her advice so when I brought in a professional who said I might be under eating based on how much I trained she was pissed off. Now she made it a point to continually speak to me about what I ate as though it was going to change something. It wasn’t.
No matter how much she badgered me.
“I was just saying—”
“And I appreciate you looking out for me. If it wasn’t for you I wouldn’t have known that I wasn’t consuming the right amount of food to perform at my peak. So thank you for that.”
I leaned over and gave her another kiss on the cheek while picking up my food. I couldn’t focus on her feelings when I needed to go and watch tape from the last time I played inAustralia. I wanted to make history this year and there was nothing that would get in my way. Least of all my mother and her desire for me to be thin over being healthy.
“You don’t want to stay and eat in the dining room? We could catch up on things or talk about what you have going on.”
I wanted to feel sympathy for her but I knew better. The chat would turn into more criticisms and I wasn’t in the mood for it.
I smiled at her and gave her another brief hug. Despite my irritation with her, I loved her. It was the liking part that was scarce.
“Next time. I just want to get this down and then get in the shower so I can rest. The first game is coming up in less than two weeks and I have a lot to think about and prepare for.”
“Okay. Well, if you need help packing for Australia let me know. I think your father was going to work with a few companies down there and they might be interested in having you do some advertisements and things for them. A few new sponsors, I believe. So just be open to it when he talks to you about it.” She couldn’t let this conversation go without sliding in some type of endorsement for that man and I was glad I hadn’t agreed to sit down with her.
I gave her a noncommittal nod before I headed back to the basement with all my stuff, locking the door behind me.
I had my own separate entrance and the door that led to the main levels of the house was fireproofed. My mother had begged me not to move out so we’d had the basement remodeled as a separate living area for me. I insisted on paying for it because I didn’t want to have anyone trying to make decisions for me. My father was pissed that I was messing up the only space he swore he had in the house but since he was rarely here and it was my money, there was little he could say.
I flopped down on the sofa mildly irritated with what she’d said. I appreciated her giving me the heads up but I knew she’donly done it to be manipulative. She thought by giving me the information I would feel obligated to sit and eat with her. Like she wouldn’t still pick apart what I was eating and how much I ate. But now I had a bigger issue to deal with: my father. He was all too happy to continue to step on my actual agent’s toes and I needed to reach out to her to make sure he didn’t succeed.
I put my food down on the coffee table and picked up the phone, dialing her number
“If it isn’t my second baby sister.”
I grinned broadly at her words loving the fact that she had always been more than just my agent.
“Let’s see if you’ll still want to claim me after I tell you what’s going on.” I leaned back into the deep sectional propping my feet up on the ottoman and let my head fall against the sofa back.
“Uh oh. Lay it on me.”
I could hear the laughter in her voice because she was so used to dealing with my parents that she didn’t let them annoy her. Which I appreciated because I was sure she was going to quit after some things my dad had pulled.
“My father might still be potentially trying to do your job is all.”
She laughed, and I could hear the sarcasm and the challenge in her tone. “What else is new?”
“Please don’t drop me cause he’s being stupid.” I knew I was whining but Billy was the best in the business. My dad messing up my life for his ego wasn’t about to happen.
“Aphrodite we’ve talked about this since you contacted me behind their backs to represent you, I would never do that unless you decided you want to be represented by someone else. Nothing has changed.”
By the time I was nineteen, I was getting fed up with the high-handed way my dad was acting with my sponsors and the brand deals he wanted to secure for me. That was just after he’dbullied me into one of my greatest mistakes and I was fed up. I’d seen a write-up onB & B SportsManagement and reached out to them for representation. I’d only won two majors at that point but when Billy got on the phone and turned out to be a woman, there was no one else I was going to work with. And then finding out that she was a Black woman making these moves only further solidified that I needed her to represent me. Since I was of legal age my father didn’t have a say in what I did. He was always too lax to put together a formal contract between the two of us feeling that he would dole out my winnings to me like he did when I was still underage. Billy changed that quickly and he still hated her for it. Which is why I adored her, amongst other reasons.
“I know but you know how he can get.”
“Do you need to come to Texas? I know you’ve got to be in Australia to start your season but you can’t perform well if you’re stressed out. I talked to you only twice over the holidays, was everything okay?”
The worst thing about the holidays is that I couldn’t indulge the way I wanted to because of the quick turnaround for the match in Australia. I did enough to satisfy myself and it helped that my mother wasn’t a leftover kinda person. Whatever she had catered for dinner she would only order enough for the three of us, at best five in case someone stopped by. No one ever did besides her parents and my father would still split the day between our house and his parents. They didn’t really fuck with my mom because they thought she was a gold digger and despite how she irritated my nerves I didn’t fuck with them because of how they treated her.
