Page 50 of Rush

Gee, thanks, Dad.

I don’t want him knowing that Ares and I hang out. If he has a problem with me riding in his truck, then he’ll definitely have a problem if he knows Ares spends time at my apartment.

“I wouldn’t say friends…but I have hung out with his sister a few times.” I say this to put his nose on a different scent.

“Missy. Yeah, I’ve met her.” He nods. “She seems like a nice girl.”

Unlike me.

“She is.”

He pauses a moment, tapping his fingers together. I stare at him, waiting for him to say whatever he thinks he needs to.

“Look, Ari…I just don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be riding around in Ares’s truck.”

“I didn’t know I needed your permission.”

His lips tighten. That’s his tell when he’s frustrated. “He’s my quarterback. You’re my daughter. People talk.”

“News flash: people always talk. It’s the beauty of the gift of speech.”

“Don’t be smart, Ari. You know exactly what I’m talking about. You’re in a vulnerable place right now, and you don’t need people talking about you.”

“More than they already have, you mean? I’m pretty sure everyone in New York knows the worst of what I’ve done. But that’s not it, is it? No, this is about Ares. You don’t want people talking about him, especially not in the same sentence as me, right? It’s bad press if people think the quarterback is lowering his standards to the coach’s messed up daughter. Well, don’t worry, Dad; Ares is most definitely not doing anything with me that will bring disrepute to his name.” Tears are stinging the backs of my eyes, so I stand. “And I’ll go back to taking the bus home from now on. Don’t want to tarnish the shiny reputation of your star player.”

“That’s not what I’m saying, and you know it.”

“Bullshit. That’s exactly what you’re saying. Trust me, Dad; I know where your loyalty lies, and it sure as hell isn’t with me.”

Hands on his desk, he pushes to his feet. His face is tight with anger. “My loyalty isn’t with you? Right, so it wasn’t me who pulled you out of the mess you’d gotten yourself into. Got you in rehab. Got you cleaned up. Gave you this job. News flash: all me, Ari, whether you like it or not.”

“Yeah, you saved my ass! Well done, you. But where the hell were you when I needed you after Mom died? Before she even died, when things were bad at home?” I slam my hand to my chest. My face is hot. I shouldn’t be saying these things, but I can’t seem to stop. “On the football field! That’s where you were. Where you always are! So, let’s not pretend like you didn’t do it out of anything but obligation and to get a handle on the bad press it could bring to you. Not because you actually give a shit.”

His eyes darken. “I give a shit, Ari.”

“Like you did with Mom.”

He looks like I just slapped him.

It was a low blow, and I know it, but I’m angry and hurt, and I don’t care right now.

I grab my bag from the floor and walk out of his office, slamming the door behind me.

My eyes are stinging as I descend the stairs.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

I don’t stop when I reach the bottom step. I walk straight through the lobby and past the reception desk where Marissa, the receptionist, is talking on the phone. I hide my face behind my curtain of hair, and I walk out of the building.

Fortunately, Patrick isn’t at the security gate, so I don’t have to stop and talk to him about why I’m leaving early.

And I keep walking as it starts to rain, and the irony isn’t lost on me right now. And I guess it won’t matter if I cry. No one will be able to tell the difference. So, I let the tears fall.

I intend to stop at the bus stop, but when I reach it, I keep walking.

And I keep on walking right into town.

And straight into the first bar I see.