Page 73 of Playing to Win

Then the picture of me carrying Cady into my apartment last night. The blog post makes it sound like Cady is my lover and I’m a cheating scoundrel.

Rage gushes over me like a tidal wave, bowling me over so I can see nothing else.

I knew I offended her, but this?

“Oh my God, my friends are going to see this and think I’m sleeping with my dad!”

“Cady, calm down. Your name isn’t in there and your face is cov—”

“It’s my goddamn pink hair! My boots. My skirt. Everyone will know it’s me.”

I glance around the boxing room, thankful that there are only a couple of other people working out on bags, both wearing headphones. Although Cady is screaming loud enough to wake dead cats in Dumpsters.

“Kit, lend me your phone?” I dial Madge and ask her to have Kerry take down the blog. “Tell her if she doesn’t do this, I will bury Izzy and that fucking book in lawsuits.”

During the call both Drew and Kit have a chance to read the blog. “You really pissed her off,” Kit says.

“Yeah, no shit,” Drew adds.

“Cady, I’m sorry. The blog is coming down. Your friends won’t have had a chance to see it. As for the pink hair, you’ll change that in a week anyway.”

“This is not okay, Dad! If you want to dance for cameras and fuck her, that’s one thing, but—”

“Enough, Cady! Enough. I’m going to straighten this out, but don’t you forget who you’re talking to. Let’s go. I’ll take you home and you can go tell Alice what a shitty dad I am.” God knows it’s true.

As we walk back to my block, my anger doesn’t wane; it heightens with every goddamn step. What a typical Izzy, shithead thing to do. I should have known better. Being mad at me is one thing, but to go public with this shit…

When we’re home, I send Cady straight to the basement garage and tell her to wait in the truck while I head upstairs, too irate to put off confronting Izzy.

I hammer on her door. “Izzy, I know you’re in there. Izzy, goddamn it, open the goddamn door!”

She eventually appears, with one eye closed and her hair falling out of the knot on top of her head, like I’ve just woken her up. “Brooks.” It seems to take her a second; then memories of her blog post must come back to her. Her eyes widen and she rubs the back of her head. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be out with your girlfriend?”

“What am I doing here?” I push through the door and slam it shut behind me. Izzy takes a step back but she doesn’t wilt like a flower; she straightens her back and folds her arms across her chest. “Are you out of your mind? Even if I did have a girlfriend, which I don’t, you just put our personal lives on your fucking blog!”

Her wince tells me she knows it was a stupid thing to do, but she doesn’t admit it. “Maybe you should think about the consequences of your actions before you get your dick out of your pants. And don’t bullshit me about not having a girlfriend. I saw you carrying her into your apartment last night, as if you were newlyweds, and I heard you tell her you love her this morning. You played me for a fool, Brooks Adams. And do you know what hurts the most? I fell for it. Call me naïve or stupid or whatever, but I actually thought you had feelings for me. But no, it turns out I was just a fuck.”

“God, you’re incredible. You were never just a fuck, Izzy, but now, I wish I had kept my dick in my pants, because you are exactly what I was afraid you were. Just a spoiled rich girl who needs to have everything her own way and fuck other people’s feelings.”

“How dare you! You are the one who cheated on me!Or her, but definitely someone.”

“I didn’t cheat on anyone, Izzy. She’s my goddamn daughter.”

She leans away from me, her brow furrowed. “Excuse me?”

“Cady. The girl with the pink hair. She’s my eighteen-year-old daughter. She went to a party and got drunk. I had to pick her up. That’s why I left.”

“You have a daughter?”

I scoff. “If she’ll still call me Dad after this. You just plastered her picture all over the Internet and made out like I’m sleeping with her. How damn stupid can you be?”

“Stupid? How can it be stupid if I didn’t know who she was? I mean, bloody hell, Brooks. You have an adult daughter and you didn’t think to tell me? How could you not have told me that? Oh, I get it. Just play with me and ship me back off to London, right? There was no need to tell me anything about your family. Who is the mother? Are you…together?”

“Jesus. Back to me having an affair. I’m not even entertaining this, Izzy. I should have told you about Cady but maybe, deep down, I knew the kind of person you are and decided not to bother.”

I watch as her eyes fill and she rolls her jaw. “Great, yeah, put this on me being a shitty person. I’ll take the blog down, and please tell Cady that I’m sorry. But you’re still a liar, Brooks Adams, and I want nothing more to do with you.”

“That makes two of us.” I turn and walk out of her apartment, leaving her there with tears in her eyes, my own throat locked tight with emotion.

Cady and I don’t speak as I drive her home. She looks out of the window and I maneuver around the bright headlights of cars, my elbow on the window ledge, my fist propping up my temple. All I see is Izzy. Tears in her eyes. Smelling of wine.

I stop on the corner of Alice’s cul-de-sac and Cady climbs out of the car without speaking, slamming the door behind her. I watch her until she makes it inside the house and closes the door behind her, not once looking back.

Well, Brooks, you royally fucked this one up, buddy.

I stick the car into gear and just drive, to anywhere, nowhere.

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