Page 18 of Learn the Play
Twist the knife, Dad. “Yeah, the ocean was nice. Took a walk on the beach my last night there. Hey, I have a few things I needto finish up today before I head home, so I need to go,” I tell him, glancing at the clock. It’s true, but I really just want to end this uncomfortable conversation.
“Good. Good. Well, I hope to see you in two weeks. I’ll send you all the information.”
“Okay.”
“I love you, sweetheart.”
“See you,” I tell him, ending the call and tossing my phone on my desk. I have so much anger in my chest where my father is concerned. I hate being a bitch—that’s not who I am at all—but I don’t know how to get past this pain.
My phone vibrates, and I don’t have to look to know it’s my father, but I do anyway.
Sperm Donor: Attached is the flyer with all the information. I hope to see you there.
Instead of looking at the flyer, I close out of the message and text my best friend, Amanda.
Me: Drinks. My place.
Amanda: Tough week?
Me: Something like that.
Amanda: I had plans to be on your couch when you got home anyway. You’ve been avoiding me.
Me: Lies. I’d never avoid my bestie.
She’s right. I’ve been avoiding her because I’m unsure how to break the news to her about Reid, and the silence feels wrong. Then, telling her the details about that night also feels bad. Selfishly, I want to keep Reid and our time together just for me.
Amanda: Uh-huh. I’ll bring dinner. Any requests?
Me: Anything. I’ll stop and grab the wine, and plan on staying.
I make a mental note to grab a couple of bottles of wine. Something tells me I’m going to need them.
Amanda: Sounds like a plan. See you soon.
Tossing my phone back on my desk, I push Reid, my dad, and even my best friend out of my mind so I can concentrate, finish my work, and start the weekend.
Just as she promised, Amanda is sitting on my couch when I get home. “Hey,” I greet her. “Have you been here long?”
“Nope. Maybe five minutes.” She points to the coffee table with two pizza boxes, two plates, a stack of napkins, and two coffee mugs. “Gave me time to get set up.”
“Perfect Pies,” I say with a groan. “It’s been forever since I’ve had their pizza.”
“We ate there before you left for Los Angeles for Tabby’s wedding.” Amanda laughs.
“Right? That was over two weeks ago.” Kicking off my shoes, I drop my bag next to the recliner, place the wine bag on the coffee table next to our dinner, and join my best friend on the couch. “I need to change, but I need Perfect Pies pizza more.” Tossing open a box, I slap a slice on a plate, then open the next box, add a couple of breadsticks with sauce, and hand it to Amanda before doing the same for me.
“Damn, that’s good,” Amanda says after finishing her first bite.
“Good choice,” I tell her, taking a massive bite. “How was your week?”
“Same old.”
“Booked any hot talent lately?” I ask her. Amanda is a talent coordinator, and she’s always finding great new artists to bring into their bar.
“I don’t pick them based on their looks.” She sticks her tongue out at me.
“Oh, I know they have to sound good, too, but you get all those headshots to drool over all day, while I get to look at shipping and inventory reports.” Don’t get me wrong, I love my job. The Riggins family is incredible to work for, and even though they’re all madly in love with their wives, they’re easy on the eyes. Still, Amanda gets hundreds of demo tapes a week that almost always come with headshots, and some of them are drool-worthy. My bestie has a fun job.
