I mutter a four-letter word as my teammates file out. Then I grab the phone, knuckles white, and hit accept.
“Dad.”
“Cooper.” The way he says my name—equal parts censure and long-suffering disappointment—tells me everything I need to know about the direction of this conversation. “Shouldn’t you be in class?”
I don’t bother answering. Ten to one, he’s got a copy of my schedule. If he thought I was in class, he wouldn’t be calling. “What’s up?”
“Just checking in to see how the semester is shaping up. Hold on.” There’s a beat of silence. Then he rattles off a stream of commands to one of his minions before returning his attention to me. “I don’t need to remind you how important this year is for your future.”
No, he doesn’t, but he’s calling to ride my ass nonetheless, because God forbid I do anything that might tarnish his image or the upcoming Senate race.
“It’s all good,” I assure him, a muscle in my jaw twitching.
It’s only the forty-seventh lecture I’ve gotten this month. I’ve practically got it memorized.
Not that I need it. Despite my father’s total lack of confidence, I’ve got everything under control.
And I know better than to step one toe out of line.
I throw my head back and drag in a calming breath, exhaling the desire to put my fist through the locker door. The last thing I need is rumors of anger issues floating around campus.
Imagine how that would look in the press.
“Good.” He clears his throat, and when he continues, his voice is silky smooth.The consummate politician.“We need a united front heading into the November election. We’ve all got to stay focused and keep our noses clean. Mullaney is really putting the pressure on. It’s going to be a tight race, but I’m not worried.”
Bullshit.
For the first time, I wonder what will happen if the great Steven DeLaurentis loses.
Nothing good, that’s for damn sure.
“Take care of those grades, and we’ll get you lined up with a great opportunity on The Hill next fall.”
“Sure, Dad.” I’m a PoliSci major, but it’ll be a cold day in hell before I give up football to work in Washington with my father.
If he notices my total lack of enthusiasm, he ignores it.
Nothing new there. He’s got a one-track mind. The only thing he gives a shit about is the DeLaurentis name. Like we’ll be the next Kennedy dynasty or something.
Not gonna happen, old man.
“I mean it, Cooper. Your mother and I need you to stay focused this year. No parties, no women, no bad press. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.” I grit my teeth, biting back the fury that’s clawing its way up my throat.
I’m hardly the biggest threat to my father’s re-election campaign, but pointing it out would be a mistake—one I can’t afford to make. At least if I tell him what he wants to hear, we can wrap this up quickly.
“By the way, I met with Tom Anderson yesterday.”
My chest tightens at the mention of my summer internship.
“Tom said you were an exemplary intern, but...” There’s a long pause, giving me plenty of time to sweat his next words. It’s just one of the many games he likes to play. I hate that after all these years, his manipulations still unnerve me. “He would’ve liked to have you stay on those last two weeks. The campaign office is always in need of extra hands.”
And there it is. The not-so-subtle reminder that while I returned to school early for training camp, as far as he’s concerned, football is not my future.
The thing is, I enjoyed working the campaign trail. Mr. Anderson was cool. I support the party policies, and I enjoy giving back to the community. My only complaint was pounding the pavement for a man who cares more about public perception than he does his own family.
Just a few more months.
