Page 3 of The Silent Count
“I know, I know.” He wipes a hand over his face, shaking from side to side. “I mean, he’s making a big name for himself in The League these days. Didn’t his sister go to the Olympics or something a couple years back too?”
“Yeah, Georgia. She’s a figure skater, or at least she was before she…” A shudder rolls down my spine at the same time Dad winces. I have no idea who in their right mind thought it was appropriate to keep the cameras rolling, televising her gruesome career ending injury for millions of people to see.
“Unfortunate that their dad’s a piece of shit, isn’t it? Vince had a certain… reputation while in The League too. Dirty plays. Talking smack about his teammates. Throwing his teammates under the bus. He’s the worst kept secret among those in The League.” Dad shakes his head while blowing off some steam rising from his mug. Vince Bradford was one of the best wide receivers to play the game. He and my dad might not have played on the same team together, but word travels fast in an organization like this, so I don’t doubt that what he’s saying is true. “Doesn’t help that Parker is following in his dad’s footsteps on the field. He’ll be a Hall of Famer, just like his dad, by the time he retires. Sure has to be annoying that people have been comparing their stats since he entered The League, though. Asking what Vince thinks of his routes during press and what not.”
I nod, rolling this information around in my head and storing it in a safe place.
On the field, Fortune Parker was a force to be reckoned with. Like a beast being unleashed from its cage after years in captivity. Rumors of his mid-game trash talk have come across my desk a time or two, but they’re just that… rumors.
Much like his dad’s case, there is no concrete evidence. No footage. No sound recordings from players who were mic’d up for social media. Nothing.
Off the field, however, he was quiet… reserved… mysterious. He kept to himself.
For the first time since he signed on to play for the Matrix, Fortune will step into my office, and the thought of being alone with him in my office sends goosebumps prickling across my skin.
I like Fortune.
Well, as much as a coach’s daughter is permitted to like one of her father’s players. Which, according to my father, is not at all. He had one rule his players were required to agree to before they put pen to paper on their contract:Don’t date my daughter.
He got a kick out of putting the fear of god into his new players, and lucky for him, it worked like a charm… until Fortune came along.
I notice him noticing me.
And it would be wrong of me to say I don’t enjoy being the keeper of his attention.
“Sure as hell going to create a shit storm in the media, though.” Dad’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. “You think you can handle it?”
“I know I can.”
The proud glint in my father’s eyes means more to me than he’ll ever know. There was no doubt in my mind I could smooth over the chaos that was about to ensue, but knowing my dad has the same confidence in me helps ease my mind.
“At the end of the day, this whole shit storm isn’t any of my business, though.” He tips his head to the side and lifts a shoulder. “Not something to bust a nut over.”
“Dad!” I gasp. We can’t be having this conversation again. “What have I told you about not using that phrase anymore?”
“You and Abbott both give me shit for it, but I don’t see what’s so wrong with it.”
Not this argument again.
The man might’ve had a sharp eye, but he has a way of mixing up idioms that come back to bite him from time to time. A few weeks ago, during a pre-season press conference, he let that phrase slip, and what I thought would be a routine Wednesday somehow turned into one of the busiest days of my career. Media statement inquiries from every major sports news outlet were flooding my inbox faster than I could type.
“The phrase you’re looking for is ‘bust my balls.’”
“Well, why would anyone want to do that?” He rears his head while rustling the coffee pods in his left coat pocket. “Sounds painful.”
I blow a laugh from my nose as I shake my head at him. “Just send him in, and I’ll handle it.”
A proud smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, and a fuzzy feeling aches in my chest. I love that smile. It has a way of making me feel like I’m on top of the world. Every time. Without fail. “You got that tenacity from me, girl. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, got it?” He shoots me a wink.
“See you later.” I roll my eyes, shooing him away with my hand, but he pauses in the doorway.
The atmosphere in the room changes, and the lighthearted energy is replaced with something more somber as he stares down the hall. I swallow the knot in my throat as he takes another long pull from his mug.
When he twists over his shoulder to glance back at me, my dad’s eyes are soft and there’s a pained smile on his face, warning me of what’s coming next.
“I can’t imagine what it was like growing up with a parent who only shows up to keep appearances. No kid deserves that.”
My heart stops, and neither of us says a word. We let the moment hang between us.
