Page 34 of Flip the Field
I unlocked the door and pulled it open. The hallway was clear. I headed back toward the lobby, but I stopped when I heard my father’s voice. He and Brady stood just outside the open front doors.
“Young man,” My father’s voice was calm. “I am going to need you to stay away from my daughter.”
“Or what?” Brady squared up on my father.
“I know your record was expunged. You don’t have to disclose your conviction now that you’re over twenty-one,” My dad shrugged. “But I’m sure the university would still be interested.”
“I don’t care.” Brady stepped forward. My father stood his ground. “If Amerie wants to see me, she’ll see me.”
My father’s voice lowered. I couldn’t make out what he said, but the anger in Brady’s eyes dissipated into defeat. It made my heart break a second time. My dad pulled out his wallet and a pen from his coat pocket. He scribbled something and tore off a check. The sound of the paper echoed under the canopy of the entrance. He reached into his pocket again and took out a wad of bills. “This will get you back to campus.” My father extended his hand, holding out the check and the cash. Brady looked down at it and blinked.
A taxi had pulled up to drop someone off.
Without a word, Brady jumped in the now-vacant cab and left –– without the money.
My father shook his head, put his wallet and cash back in his pocket, and walked back into the lobby. His eyes grew wide when he saw me. “Amerie.”
“What did you say to him?” I asked.
“Sweetheart,” He grabbed my hand. I pulled it out of his grip.
“What did you say?” I crossed my arms over my chest. “What am I worth?”
My dad rubbed his face. “Amerie. He is a boy with anger issues. He’s not the type of person I want dating my daughter. He’s dangerous.”
“No, he’s not.”
My dad threw his hands up. “He sent a young cop to the hospital.”
“Why?” When my father told me that Brady had a record and had been to jail, I had been so upset that Brady hadn’t told me himself, but I knew him. There had to be more to the story. I hadn’t given Brady a chance to explain.
“Why what?”
“In your extensive research, did you find out why he did it?”
“It shouldn’t matter why he did it,” My dad sighed. “It’s not like he was some young Black man getting gunned down in the middle of the street by police. He and his gang of friends—”
“Gang?” I recoiled. “Dad, Brady wasn’t in a gang. He was a four-star recruit coming out of high school, for God’s sake.”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he huffed. “I just meant that his friends harassed the police and things got out of hand, and out of all of them, Brady was the one who went to jail.”
“This doesn’t make any sense.”
“Keep your voice down,” He gestured toward the back of lobby. “We’ll deal with this after dinner.”
I turned and headed for the elevator. “I’m going back to school.”
My dad followed me. “Amerie!” he yelled and then peeked around to see if his outburst had been noticed. “Don’t embarrass me.”
“But I’m so good at it.” I stepped around him and went up to my room to pack.
