I stalk out of the room, vibrating with rage and nerves.I just went off on a client. He could’ve been lying about me not getting fired, but that felt good, really good.
I’m definitely getting fired.
3
SYLAS
Wednesday, December 4
I massagemy right shoulder the way I’ve been instructed to do by both the team’s physical therapist and athletic trainer. One would have sufficed, but Dad not only insisted, hedemandedthey both be there to show me how to correctly massage and exercise, despite already having developed a personalized treatment plan for me.
My shoulder wouldn’t be fucked in the first place if he had listened to them and let me rest. But he pushes and pushes because he can, because he knows better, because his son has to be the best and to be the best, resting doesn’t exist.
He had me up at four this morning to train with him for almost two hours, and right after that, I had skill work followed by team weight lift. We have an away game so it was light, but my body is still reeling from training with Dad.
I prop my head on the bus window and continue to work my fingers along my shoulder as I scroll through my notifications. I roll my eyes at the messages that pop up from my parents.
Dad: You’re not known as the best power forward in the country for nothing. Play exactly as I showed you and stop fucking around in defense. I will see you after the game.
Dad: Don’t ruin my legacy, Sylas.
Mom: So excited for tonight! Florence is coming with us. She loves to watch you play. Why don’t you get her one of those special jerseys? She would love that.
Ignoring them, I switch over to the security cameras. My parents pushed for them to be set up, since people would be coming and going to clean or whatever it is they do when I’m not around. It felt stupid at the time, but now I’ve never been more grateful.
I haven’t cared to look because nothing has ever gone missing. But after my conversation—or whatever it is I should call it—with Anna, I’ve been wanting to see her again.
Shocked is an understatement of what I’d felt when I found she’s been cleaning the penthouse and how she went off on me. I know I’m the dick of the century for what I did. I’m stupid for not remembering her and realizing why she looked so familiar at Clover’s.
I never meant to blow her off three years ago, but when I dislocated my shoulder, Dad started his bullshit, and I was hit with a panic attack. It took me days to recover. It’s still shit, and I get why she’s mad. I tried to apologize, but she was done listening to me. She had her earbuds in, music probably at max because I could hear it playing. And she wasn’t there long because she finished five minutes after she chewed me out.
On the screen, the elevator doors slide open and she walks in with cleaning supplies and another girl beside her. I don’trecognize her, but what would I know? She probably goes to KYU too. I probably forgot her the same way I did Anna.
I pop in an earbud, but hesitate before I turn up the volume. Is this wrong? They’re in my home, so it’s not technically stalking or invasion of privacy. Right?
Turning it on, I watch them. Based on the topic of their conversation, they either know there are cameras and don’t care, or they have no idea there’re multiple small ones placed everywhere.
“…I don’t know, I’m still waiting to get a call from Michael letting us know we’re fired and blacklisted from New York.”
Her friend laughs, and between the two, she’s the bubblier one. “That’s dramatic. I don’t think Michael holds that much power. But enough about that, so…”
“No, Jenny,” she reproaches with a groan. “Don’t even think about it. I’ll take the terrace and you?—”
Jenny’s smile widens, and she places a hand on her hip. “You’re so lame. You don’t even know what I was going to ask.”
“I do, and I’m not going to answer.” She grabs a plastic bag from the cart they brought filled with supplies.
“I just want to know. I promise I’ll stop asking.” Jenny interlocks her fingers, bringing them under her chin, and juts out her bottom lip.
Anna wets her pink lips, her chest rising like she’s breathing in deeply. “Okay, ask me.”
“Is he as attractive in person as they say he is?”
Is she talking about me? She has to be talking about me.I sit up and raise the volume.
Anna pauses, like she’s considering how she wants to answer that, then rolls her eyes. “Yeah, he is, and it’s annoying because he’s also tall. Like, really fucking tall.”
Jenny’s face gleams with excitement. “And the accent?”
