Stroker: A Bad Boy Sports Romance Page 14

  Dean Williams looks down at his desk, nodding. “You’re right. We can’t, but this,” he slides a photo across the desk to me, “this can”.

  It’s a grainy shot of the Ethan and I fighting outside the old pool the night he tried to fuck Tia. In it, I’ve got him by the neck, fist connecting with his face. His arms are by his side. He doesn’t look like he’s putting up a fight, and that’s the problem.

  I push the photo back. “You don’t know the full story. He was about to rape someone. He had to be stopped.”

  “So why didn’t you call campus security, the police?”

  I can’t think of an excuse on the spot.

  “Because this was an illegal, unsanctioned event on campus property. There was alcohol, god knows what else, and here you are punching a fellow student.”

  “Ethan’s out of control. You’ve got to believe me. He’s—”

  The Dean puts his hand up. “No more, Blake. I don’t want to hear it. I know the other swimming squad members were behind the party. They will be disciplined.” He picks up the photo. “But this? I cannot allow it. The person who brought it forward won’t release it as long as I…”

  “As you what?” I spit, my anger growing, everything building up on my back and threatening to crush me, make me a monster.

  “Expel you.”

  I stand up, knocking the chair over. No. “You can’t be serious.”

  “I am. Consider this your formal notice.”

  I slam my hand down on his desk, pens in a jar spilling onto the floor. “You can’t do this. What did Coach Reed say?” But I know Coach is the last person who’d have my back right now.

  “I’m the Dean, Blake. I make the decisions. You’re a fine swimmer, maybe you will go on to make the Olympics, but it won’t be with Carver’s backing any longer. I’m sorry.”

  I don’t know who took the photo that night, but it could have been anyone there were so many people watching, so many phones. Ethan found out, paid them off to drag me down, but I won’t go down without a fight.

  Not a chance in fucking hell.

  I’m not one to drag a fellow man down, but this has gone too far. “It’s because of his parents, isn’t it? How much do they contribute to this place? I mean, the whole damn pool complex was funded by them, wasn’t it? Did they ask for this?”

  The Dean stands, fingers tented on the top of his desk. “That has no bearing on this at all, and frankly, I don’t appreciate the accusation.”

  I stab my finger at him. “You should know your boy Ethan’s using, injecting himself with some super-drug before every session. Ask him about it, go on, or maybe about how he’s running around campus dealing drugs. Surely you know about that, you’re so high and mighty.”

  He shakes his head. “You’re better than this, Blake. Go quietly before I call security.”

  The motherfucker isn’t even listening. I draw my hand across his desk, drag all the papers and shit on it to the floor. “He’s a fucking drug dealer! Are you just going to let that go?”

  The Dean stands. “Leave, now!”

  I stand back, my temples pulsing, my heart beating hot with anger and pain, pure bile at this injustice. “Fine, but you remember this when everything comes undone. You remember this conversation.”

  “Leave,” he repeats.

  I head for the door, but before I get there, I turn once more, just can’t let it go. “And one more thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Fuck you and fuck Carver.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  TIA

  I thought I cried every tear I had in me over Mom, but this is a whole new level of pain. The most important men in my life have betrayed me.

  The front door opens and Lacey walks in. She dumps a grocery bag on the table. “I got you the essentials: soda, chocolate, gossip mags, and a cuddly teddy bear thing that was too cute to pass up even though it was twenty dollars.”

  “Thanks.”

  I’m sitting on her bed with my back against the wall, my feet pulled up underneath me and Lacey’s tiny TV showing some game show I’ve barely been watching.

  She sits on her roommate’s bed. “I know I said you could stay here as long as you want, or at least until Lauren gets back from Europe, but are you sure this is where you want to be, cooped up in this crawlspace all day? You’ve got to get some sunshine at least. I can’t have you turning into a Cullen on me.”

  “Thanks,” I offer again. “I appreciate everything you’ve done, Lace, really.”

  She reaches out and holds my leg. “And I appreciate everything you have done for me with that asshole Ethan, but this is not healthy. It’s been three days now.” She looks over at my phone sitting on her drawers. “Your Dad and Blake seem to be caught in some kind of ‘who can call and text you the most’ competition, you do realize.”

  “You looked at my phone?”

  “Call them. Call someone. Just do something. How about a run?”

  “A run?”

  “With me.”

  “Right now?”

  She glances down at my sweat pants. “Well, you are dressed for it.”

  I give in. “Fine, but don’t expect Usain Bolt.”

  *

  Lacey’s right. I feel better out in the sun—what little of it there is today. I’m not much of a runner, nor is Lacey, but it’s refreshing to be on my feet instead of in the pool, able to feel the actual impact of each step.

  Lacey leads us around the outskirts of campus before swinging back towards the main track. It’s surprisingly empty given it’s the middle of the afternoon. Three full laps and I call for a break, coming off the track and stopping by the water fountain, sweeping my hair to the side. When I bring my head back up, Dad’s standing there.

  He looks to Lacey. “Thank you, Lacey.”

  “Happy to help, Mr. Reed.”

  I turn around and mouth ‘traitor’ as she starts to bound away. I can’t even trust my best friend now.

  “Don’t be mad at her,” Dad starts.

  I try to get around him. “I don’t have time for this, Dad.”

  He takes me by the shoulders. “Stop, Tia. Listen to me.”

  “Are you going to lecture me? Is that it? I’m not a little girl any more, Dad, and you’re hardly a father.”

  I see the way this crushes him. I know it’s going too far, but I can’t unsay it.

  He breathes in and lets go of me. “I’m trying, Tia. This isn’t easy for me. How do you think it made me feel seeing that picture of you on that website?”

  “And you think it’s easy for me? God, Dad, all those nights Mom would spend crying because she could barely afford to keep a roof over our heads, because her life was falling apart. Where were you then? Where were you at the Daddy-daughter dances, prom, the swimming lessons?” I break down, letting it come, plump, wet tears exploding from my eyes. “Where the fuck were you?”

  He pulls me into his chest and I allow it, sobbing into his sweater. “It’s okay, baby. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

  We stay like this for a while. No one comes. No one bothers us.

  Sniffing, I stand back. “Have you spoken to Blake?”

  He stiffens. He wants to cuss and yell, but he sees the way I’m looking at him and holds back. “We had words.”

  “What did you do?”

  He shrugs. “Nothing that won’t heal. That pretty boy face of his will be good as new in a week or so.”

  I slap him on the chest. “Dad!”

  “What am I supposed to do, Tia? Let him get away with it?”

  “I found out the truth, Dad. He didn’t put that picture on the website. In fact, he took the site down. I took a picture of him when we…” I trail off. This is way too much information to be sharing with my newly acquired father.

  “You can’t know that.”

  But I do. Billy came to me and laid it all out. He had one of his stoner hacker friends look into it, work out it was Ethan who put the site back up, Ethan who stole the
picture from the apartment. It makes my stomach turn thinking about it. “Trust me, Dad. It wasn’t him. He’s actually a decent guy once you get to know him.” I can’t believe I’m defending him right now. Then why can’t you call him? Why can’t you make it right? Because I want to be angry at someone, and he’s the closest target.

  Dad scoffs. “You’re young, honey. You don’t know his type.”

  “I’m twenty-one, Dad. Christ, I’m not a kid anymore. I can handle myself. I mean, why did you even leave Mom and me in the first place. Was it that bad.

  Dad rubs his forehead. “It’s complicated.”

  “I want to know.”

  He shakes his head. “I was young myself. You weren’t planned. Frankly, I don’t know if I was ready to be a father. Things had been bad between your mother and I for a while. I started seeing someone else. The next thing I know all I could think about was getting away and starting over, away from the bills and burdens. I was selfish. I wanted excitement, my life back. I knew your mother could handle you alone. Hell, you were probably better off without me in your life. But not a day has not gone by since when I haven’t thought about you. Was I wrong? Probably. Foolish? Definitely. Things never did work out with Sandra. She too worked out what a good-for-nothing I was, kicked me into the gutter once she found her next lover. I thought about going back, but I was alone and too much time had passed. I was a fucking coward. Is that what you want to hear?”

  I can’t stop the tears. I don’t know what to think. “Dad…”

  “I just want what’s best for you. I always have.”

  I bring the subject back to Blake. “And Blake Johnson isn’t? Who is, Dad? Who is good enough for me?”

  He doesn’t reply, looking down at the ground.

  I wipe away tears with the back of my sleeve. “He thinks of you like a father, you know. God, you should hear the way he talks about you, how much he respects you.”

  Dad lifts his eyes. They’re glassy, but guys like Dad don’t cry. SEALs never show emotion.

  I hug myself. “He told me everything. He told me about his past in that shithole of a town, about his junkie parents forcing him out into the streets to deal drugs. He told me about juvenile detention and the pool there, about how you showed up and got him in the water, taught him to swim. He told me about how you had his records sealed, how you petitioned the college for a scholarship and spent every damn day turning him into the swimmer he is. And he’s a great swimmer, Dad, admit it. Is he or is he not the best you’ve ever seen?”

  “He is.”

  I put my hand out, pleading. “Then why, why isn’t he good enough? Because of a stupid website, of his reputation? I know you were there for him when you weren’t there for me, and I’ve made peace with that, but you can’t ruin everything you have together because of this, because of me. I won’t allow it.”

  “Tia…”

  “No, Dad. Make it right. If I want to be with him, I’m going to be with him. There’s not a damn thing you can do about it, but you can support me, whatever I choose. That is all I ask.”

  He nods. “Okay, but you still got that pepper spray?”

  “Jesus, Dad! I’m serious.”

  He puts his hands up. “I get it Tia, loud and clear, but even if I wanted to help him, it’s out of my hands, baby.”

  “What do you mean it’s out of your hands?”

  Dad sighs, eyes heavy. “I just got a call from the Dean. Blake’s been expelled.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  BLAKE

  I haven’t left the apartment for days, haven’t seen Coach or Tia, much less the world. No, fuck it. Fuck everything. I had it all. I was this close to the Olympics, to making something of myself, and what did I do? I fucked it up. But Olympics don’t even matter, though. I had Tia and I fucked that up too. I ruined the best thing to ever happen in my life, and what now? What the fuck do I do now?

  “For you, asshole.” Billy tosses my cell across the room. I catch it, vibrating, in my hand.

  Tia, I think, hopeful.

  I answer. “Tia?”

  “Mr. Johnson?” comes a stranger’s voice.

  “Yes,” I reply with caution.

  “Mr. Blake Johnson?”

  “Yes.” Who the hell is this?

  “My name is Gregory Rickman. I represent Morgan & Morgan.”

  “Morgan & Morgan?”

  Billy’s watching me, arms crossed.

  “We’ve been trying to reach your brother too, a Mr. Billy Johnson?”

  “Yes, that’s my brother. I’m sorry, what are you calling about?”

  “Forgive me, Mr. Johnson. I’m a lawyer.”

  Shit. I run through what I could have possibly done now. “Have I been charged with something?”

  Awkward laughter. “No, no, Mr. Johnson, nothing like that.”

  Being called ‘Mr. Johnson’ is starting to freak me out.

  “You’ve recently turned twenty-one, yes?”

  “That’s right.”

  “It’s about your Aunt Linda, Mr. Johnson.”

  Aunt Linda? I’ve never heard of her. As far as I was aware, we had no living family. “I don’t know who you’re talking about, sorry.”

  “Yes, I’m quite aware it may come as a shock, Mr. Johnson, but she knew about you and your brother, which is why I’m going to need you to come down to our offices. I can explain it in more detail there.”

  “Can’t you tell me what this is about?”

  Billy’s watching with increasing suspicion. “Does she want to meet us or something?”

  “She has passed, Mr. Johnson, which is why I’m calling, but please, come down and we can talk it over.”

  I’m trying to wrap my head around what’s going on as I take the address and number.

  I hang up.

  Billy looks at me. “What the fuck was that all about?”

  I look down at the phone, but only my shadowy face stares back. “I have no fucking idea.”

  *

  Billy and I stand out the front of the towering skyscraper downtown home to Morgan & Morgan and probably all manner of upper-echelon companies we peasants know nothing about. This is not our world, that’s for fucking sure.

  “I need a moment.” Billy sits with his hands on his head. “Is this a dream? Am I dreaming this?”

  I kick him in the shin. “How’s that feel?”

  He gives me the finger. “I mean, I heard that figure right, didn’t I? It wasn’t missing a decimal place or something?”

  I take a seat too, looking out over the park opposite the tower. It reminds me of the main park in Millertown, at least before it was filled with addicts and hypodermic needles. “You heard right.” Fucking Aunty Linda. We’re rich, fifty-fifty split. Can’t even thank her.

  “Why didn’t she try to get in touch with us when she was alive? Why all this now, when she’s dead?”

  I shrug. “Who knows? Maybe she hated kids, didn’t want to take us on. Hell, I wouldn’t have wanted us back then either. I mean, what on earth are we going to do with all that money?”

  I see Billy’s grin. “Don’t tell me you’re going to go out and blow it all on hookers and cars?”

  “Damn, since when did you become the responsible one?” He pokes me in the stomach. “Tia been messing around in there, making you all Stay Puft and marshmallowy?”

  Tia—How will this news affect her, us? I don’t know. I don’t think it will, truthfully. Money’s great, but money alone won’t get me to the Olympics. It will sure as fuck help, especially now that I don’t have Carver’s backing, but I haven’t qualified yet. And Tia? I don’t have her back, but I will. When I do, when we’re together again, she won’t want for anything. That’s if I can put things right with Coach first. I can’t be with her until I have his blessing, hard as that may be to come by.

  I wave down a cab. “I’ve got to go. Don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

  Billy stands. “Me? Stupid? Never.”

  *

  I’d ra
ther peel my skin off than do this, but it has to be done.

  He sees me coming and straightens up. “You’ve got some fucking balls, son. How’d you get in here?”

  Cutter and Magnus poke their heads out of the water. At least I’ve got witnesses. Still doesn’t stop the old man trying to swing at me when I get close enough.

  I dodge the first punch, but he manages to get me hard in the ribs with the second.

  He goes again, but I put my hands out and stand back. “Just listen, okay?”

  “It better be real good because I’m more than damn ready to turn this pool into a bloodbath.”

  “I know you put your trust in me. I know I betrayed that trust, and I am sorry, truly sorry, but Tia means everything to me.”

  He turns and laughs, voice booming off the roof. “Are you for real? You couldn’t keep your hands off a pretty girl if you tried, but my daughter? She’s off limits. I thought that was clear. I don’t care what kind of voodoo magic wool you’ve pulled over her eyes. You are not fooling me.”

  “I’m not trying to fool her, or you, or anyone. I’ve never felt like this about any girl before. I’ll say it again. I love her.”

  I’m extremely conscious of the others watch me basically dump my testosterone all over the floor.

  Coach starts to run forward. “That’s fucking it.”

  Cutter comes out the water and gets between us, holding Coach back. “He’s speaking truth, Coach. I haven’t seen him like this before. It’s like some damn bloodsuckers got into his brain, rewired it or some shit. It’s freaky.”

  Cutter, the poet.

  Coach pushes him off. “What’s it going to take to get you to back off? Money?”

  Not anymore. “Don’t be like that.”

  “You want to make me look like a fool, make Tia look like a fool?”

  “I’m not going to hurt her. I would never hurt her.”

  Coach laughs. “I smell bullshit, son. You know, I was like you once. Couldn’t keep my cock out of places where it didn’t belong, and you know where it got me?”

  I play along. “Where?”

  “Into a shitload of trouble. How do you think I ended up in the Navy in the first place?”

  “Sir,” I begin, going for respect, “I want to be with your daughter. What do I have to do to make this okay?”