Page 5 of Great Pretender
Murray and I both look back at the phone as it starts up again.
It’s Dad again.
It’s eight pm, and I know he’s not gonna let up until he talks to me.I just don’t know what to say.
“Chad, you need to talk to your father.Trust me on this one. Things are a bit different now with his impending retirement.”
“I know,” I breathe. I do know.That’s why, until last night, I was on my best behavior.
“I don’t think you want to piss him off even more than he already is.”
When Dad announced his retirement last year, I knew my playboy days were numbered.When he took me aside and told me to shape up, I knew I had to.More than anything, I knew I had a shot at achieving my dream of owning the team, and that’s the only reason why I gave two fucks about my activities last night.
Dad has been quiet and selective in any discussion about his plans.He’s been like that with both the family and everybody associated with the team.
I know my father well enough to guess he’s been acting like that on purpose.The only person who will probably know anything is Mom.But she’s like Fort Knox when it comes to keeping secrets.
The obvious thing for me to think was that the team would pass down to me.That’s what I’ve always wanted.Dad has owned the Saints for the last fifteen years.
He lived the whole football dream.He played all his life, coached a high school team, then a college team, then on to a national team.Then he went up and up the ladder until he purchased one of the country's best teams—one that has a real shot at winning nationals next year.
I’ve played football since I could walk.I was born and bred in New York, and there’s not a memory in my mind that doesn’t involve the sport in some way.When I retired from pro ball three years ago after I busted my leg, I went to work with Dad.
I knew he was skeptical about hiring me as the team’s new scout manager, but he gave me a shot.I don’t think he had any plans to retire back then.Then things changed over time, and he became more observant of my activities, riding my ass about the way I portrayed myself and the image I presented for the team, family, and the company.
The phone stops ringing again.This time, I know he’s decided to end the call rather than wait for it to ring out to my voicemail.Almost immediately, though, the doorbell rings.
Shit. Is that him?
My housekeeper said he’d come by earlier when I was out.
“Fuck, that could be him now,” Murray says with a grimace.
Fuck this. I can’t hide forever.
Pushing to my feet, I make my way to the door and gape through the peephole.
Much as I’d decided to man up, relief washes over me when I see it’s Piper.
I’m guessing she must have seen the papers too, but it’s not like her to come by at this time of night or show up unannounced, even though she knows my door is always open for her.
With her crazy schedule at the hospital, I’m actually surprised to see her at all.
I open the door and instantly notice something’s wrong with her. Her usually vibrant green eyes are red and puffy, and her platinum hair is gathered on top of her head in an overly messy bun I don’t think was intended for style.
“Hi, babe,” I say, looking her over.“Piper, what’s happened?”
“I need you,” she chokesout.
I just manage to pull her into my arms before she breaks down crying. All thoughts of my father and my recklessness flee from my mind as I hold her.
I don’t know what sent her running to me, but I know it can’t be good.
“What happened, Piper?”
“Heath,” she whispers, and it’s then that I remember with perfect clarity what caused me to drink last night.
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