Page 25 of Mad Rivals
Everleigh walks in a moment later, and we all stand to hug her as well. She sits, and our parents walk into the room at that moment and take their seats rather formally at opposite ends of the table, reserving greetings for when we’re all seated.
I always wondered what it would be like to have been born to parents that showed affection once in a while, but the Bradley family ain’t it. To be hugged by our mother when we show up at her house for dinner would be nice. To get a handshake from our father rather than the usual sneers or reproaches might solve some of our underlying issues.
But it’s never been that way, so why would it start now?
At least I’m semi-close with my siblings.
Once we’re all seated, Greta, one of the housekeepers, tips a bottle of wine over our glasses. My mother holds hers in the air once we’ve all been served, and she says, “To the legacy.”
We all repeat her words, but honestly, what legacy is this? Family first has been drilled into us since infancy, but what kind of family is it when they don’t even seem to care that we’re here? It’s all for show, and it always has been.
Yet I continue to show up. I continue to act as they’ve trained me. I continue to strive for their words of affirmation. Despite all that, I do enjoy the chance to catch up with my brothers and sisters.
After we’re served our main dish of filet mignon with black truffle butter, Ivy asks what everyone has been up to.
Everleigh has been working long hours in her position as a personal brand strategist for celebrities. Ford has been enjoyingthe beaches near Tampa in his time off, and he’s here in Chicago catching up with friends before he heads back to Tampa. Liam has been living here with Mom and Dad in the offseason and spending long hours working out to keep up his stamina for next season. Ivy is still in college, and she’s splitting time between her apartment on campus and here with our parents.
Unlike Liam and Ivy, I was never that way. Once I moved out of this house, I stayed the fuck out except for Monday night dinners when I could make it.
“I can tell you what Madden has been up to,” our father says, and I sit up a little straighter, though I likely should brace myself for what I already know is coming. “Giving away half our business to the competition.”
“Oh, Madden,” my mother clucks with disappointment.
I sink back down against my chair. One single comment from our father is enough to keep me quiet the rest of the meal.
After the meal, Ford, Everleigh, and I escape to the front porch. The two of them sit in two of the Adirondack chairs, but I perch on the railing instead.
“Can I ask you what Dad meant by his comment?” Ford asks.
“I want to know, too. You shut down after that, Mad,” Everleigh says.
I shake my head with a bit of disgust. “I was basically the spokesperson for a Bradley proposal on a town square development, and we were awarded commercial while another company won residential. He approved the plans, yet he blames me since I was the one who went to the meeting.”
“He’s always been hardest on you,” Everleigh says. “How are you feeling about this season and what comes next?”
I lift a shoulder. “I need to get to San Diego to get a feel for it, you know? I might have better insight. They may not even sign me to a second year. Who knows? They could force me into retirement, and then I get to work for Dad.” I roll my eyes.
“If you don’t want it, just walk away,” Ford says—as if it’s as simple as that.
“Then who gets it? Dex?” I ask.
They both laugh as if it’s the most ridiculous thing they’ve heard.
“I don’t want it,” Everleigh says. She’s next in line.
“I still have a few years left in me on the field,” Ford says. “Arch won’t touch it, and Liam and Ivy are a long way off from being able to manage a Fortune 500 company.”
“We all are,” I say. “That’s why Dad put in a team to support whichever one of us is the next CEO of Bradley. And I guess out of the seven of us, I’m the most logical choice. I’m the oldest. I’ll probably retire first. I actuallylikereal estate development.” I press my lips together. “But damn if that dude doesn’t make me feel totally incompetent.”
“You’re not,” Everleigh says. “And he does that to all of us. You just are the lucky one who gets to bear the brunt of it since Bradley Group is going to you.”
“Thanks,” I say, feeling a bit of solidarity with my sister over all of it.
We chat a while longer out on the porch, and I think about inviting the two of them to dinner sometime, too.
But just like so many of the best-laid plans, the idea moves to the back burner in favor of workouts, work, and staying busy.
Still, I’m hoping I can make my siblings more of a priority going forward.
