Page 213 of Catch Me
I stared at the message, cycling between confusion and anger. It was a joke, right? That question had to be a joke.
Roman:You like the art?
Dad:It’s great. A unique idea
Roman:Do you know who the artist is?
Dad:How would I know?
A clipped laugh escaped me, drawing Til’s attention. Curling my fingers in, I leaned them against my mouth. When it felt like I’d explode, I got to my feet and headed to the bar to make a drink. I dropped the phone on the counter and poured myself a whisky, even though I wasn’t a fan of it.
After knocking it back, I leaned my elbows on the counter and stared at the text. I shook my head and drew in a breath.
Roman:I thought art was pointless to you
Dad:Am I not allowed to have art in my house now? I told you it’ll be an upward battle to get noticed. If you want to make art, you need an actual job too
Roman:Like tattooing? I make pretty good money, you know
Dad:Ok
Roman:The artist’s signature is in the bottom left corner
Dad:If it’s that important, I’ll look later
Roman:Look now
I wanted to drink more, but I wouldn’t do that now. When the Braves won, I wasn’t going to be a mess. The team would probably go out, and maybe Travis would want me to go. Or maybe not.
When it had been five minutes without a response, I pocketed the phone. I wasn’t going to spend more mental energy on him today. Maybe I’d send him a fucking calendar for Christmas and see if he figured it out. Would he still claim that I’d be better off as a tattoo artist? I wouldn’t doubt it.
Now I was curious about something.
Roman:McKinney still your favorite player this season?
Dad:Yeah, he’s brought the team here
Roman:Did you know he’s gay?
My foot tapped as I waited for him to respond. Maybe he was a better person than I thought. Something like that wouldn’t make him change his opinion. Travis was an amazing pitcher, and my dad knew that.
Dad:Are you kidding?
Roman:Nope. He speaks out for LGBTQ people
Dad:The team allows that? Just advertising what they do in bed. They have to take over everything
Fuck.
I returned to the window and stared down at the game. Sitting would be a mistake right now, and I’d probably start panicking.
No, I was already panicking.
If anyone saw us together . . . If there were pictures . . . The press . . . Interviews . . . Him visiting me in Seattle . . .
Someone said my name, but I ignored them as I left the suite. We’d been doing this for a few days and I was already freaking out.
I just needed a minute. I needed a fucking minute.
