Page 21 of Southie
Frankie was a senior when I was a sophomore. He asked me out a few weeks after approaching me. Even though he’d said he’d like to get to know me, it still was a surprise.
At first, I hadn’t taken him seriously. All that crossed my mind was why in the hell did Franklin Scott want to date someone like me?
We went out on a few dates, and then he asked me to be his girlfriend, which I eagerly accepted.
In the beginning, our relationship was good. We took things slow, against Frankie’s liking, but he did it for me. We’d go to the movies or hang out at his house. I’d travel to the away games with his family.
I didn’t like the attention of dating the hometown sports hero, but I dealt with it to be with him. His friends thought I was after his money, and girls at school hated me. Those were the type of girls he usually hung around.
I stayed to myself and out of the limelight, which was the total opposite of our relationship once we left for college. When he declared to the University of Georgia, we made the long-distance relationship work for the two years we were apart. He visited on the weekends if it didn’t interfere with football, and we talked on the phone every night. Everything had been great from my perspective.
After graduating high school, Franklin convinced me to come to Georgia with him. The decision to follow him would almost cost me my life.
UGA hadn’t been my first choice for college. However, he persuaded me it would be best for our relationship. Against my parents’ wishes, I followed him to Georgia. I loved him, and I believed he loved me. But my parents said Franklin was not what he appeared to be. They warned me about being too young to be in such a committed relationship with someone I didn’t know. Too young to change my life plans around to fit his.
I scoffed at the notion. I’d been with him for two years.
But, they were right.
He was the biggest mistake of my life. A mistake I was still paying for.
Within my first year at UGA, Franklin changed. At least, I thought he had. I later realized he’d always been that person, but he hid it so well. Or I had blinders on when it came to Franklin Scott. Either way, the Franklin I loved was nothing more than a façade.
He’d had the world handed to him on a silver platter. Even with his money, and the opportunities afforded to him because of his family’s wealth, he was never happy. He was a rich kid who’d attended school on an athletic scholarship at one of the top colleges in the country, well on his way to the pros, but it wasn’t enough. With his father’s money keeping him out of prison, he still wasn’t happy. Not if I was still breathing.
He dropped the boy-next-door image at the end of my freshman year. Before fighting back, I’d endured his hell for the next year and a half.
The first time he struck me, I blamed it on stress because his father had been pushing him to up his game so they’d draft him in the first round. To Howard Scott, former NFL star wide receiver and hometown hero, simply being drafted wasn’t good enough for his son. Frankie being drafted in the first round would be the only way he’d be proud of his son. So, Frankie aimed to make his father proud and, in the process, he took his frustrations and anger out on me when he didn’t succeed or from the pressure of trying to be what his father wanted.
He’d accuse me of not holding him down enough as his partner or that I asked too many questions about why he stayed out all night. And, after so many times hearing those types of things, I started to believe them.
I’d walked in on him with my so-called friend and roommate fucking in his bed at an after-party held at his off-campus apartment, and then he beat my ass because I’d “forced him to cheat on me.”
Everything changed.
That moment woke me up to the real Frankie, and I defended myself, which I’d never done before. When he swung his fist that time, something in me snapped and I didn’t cower as I normally would have. I fought back. I’d gotten a full dose of reality with Franklin, something my parents saw from the beginning.
Someone called the police, they rushed me away by ambulance to the hospital, and they jailed him on assault and other domestic violence charges. It all played out on the local news and national sports channels like a soap opera for everyone to watch. Everyone had an opinion on Camilla Jennings and Franklin Scott’s turbulent relationship. Some thought I deserved it; others spoke in my defense. Even the woman I’d caught him laid up with gave an interview with a national news network about the incident as a witness after I refused to comment numerous times on what happened.
I didn’t know what Frankie expected to happen after it became a top story in the country. He’d been a big name around campus and the country. One of the top prospects for the NFL.
I didn’t like my toxic relationship being aired for the world to see on national television, but what could I do about it, other than not comment? The police reports told my story.
After the state attorney filed charges, UGA kicked him off the football team indefinitely and he lost any chance to play in the NFL. Name recognition made it a high-profile case, but with his family’s money, he didn’t spend one day in jail after that first night. Although they filed criminal charges, there’d been many delays and continuations. He still hadn’t gone to trial and the way things were going, he never would.
Frankie, his family, and his friends blamed me instead of his behavior for costing him everything he’d worked for. His father dared to confront me in the police station, saying I pushed his son to act the way he had, although I’d done nothing but defend myself against his attack.
After they released Frankie, the harassment started. It got so bad, my father hired security to shadow me when I moved back to North Carolina. I’d gone to the police, but they refused to help beyond a restraining order because technically he hadn’t physically harmed me.
I guess the brutal assault and domestic violence charges in Georgia didn’t count.
The Charlotte Police Department refused to take any of the phone calls seriously. His father’s popularity in our hometown outweighed my safety. Now, I dealt with the consequences of not listening to my parents.
I sighed when the phone started ringing again.
“Why can’t he just leave me alone!”
I reached over to the nightstand, picked up the phone, and put it on silent. I’d have to get another number again, soon.
