Page 77 of Forbidden Romeo
“What?”
“He said you quit the football team. Have been drinking more. Acting weird. Dating that girl again.”
“That girl has a name. And she’s the best thing to fucking happen to me.”
“Son, that is what every college guy says when they’re getting their dick wet regularly?—”
I launched at my father, gripping the lapels of his Hugo Boss shirt and throwing him against the wall. Dad wasn’t a small man by any means, but he was rusty. Too many hours campaigning and working and having affairs. Not enough time in the gym.
“Don’t you fucking talk about her that way,” I snarled at him. If I’d been a little more out of control, I might have slammed my fist in his nose. “Just because sex is the only thing you care about, don’t fucking put me in the same category as you!”
But Dad only smirked that cocky little half fucking smile of his. “She’s really under your skin, isn’t she?”
“Yes,” I whisper. “In all the best ways.”
Dad put his hands up in surrender, though his smirk remained. "Alright, alright. No need to get violent."
I released his shirt and took a step back, still seething.
Straightening his clothes, my father tugged on the cuffs of his shirt and regarded me carefully. “There’s still time to make the second half of the game,” he said finally. “Half-time only just started.”
"There’s a whole cast of people here counting on me. The team can play without me but if I leave now, there is no show.”
Dad shrugged. “They’ll get over it.”
“No. They won’t. And honestly, neither would I.”
“You really believe you belong here?” He stepped toward the vanity and gestured at the makeup strewn across the table. “Putting on fucking makeup and playing dress up?”
“I think I belong here more than I belong in law school if that’s what you’re asking.”
Stepping closer, my dad allowed his large hand to fall to my shoulder, gripping me hard. I tensed as his fingers dug into my muscles. Part of me wanted to give in. Go back to the way everything was before when life was easier. Not better… but simpler. I went to class. Won some football games. Chugged some beers. And had a whole path paved for me for the future.
Now? I didn’t know what to fucking do. I just knew that when I was on stage, something shifted inside of me. An adrenaline rush I’d never experienced before took hold of my body.
It felt like home.
“I’m not going anywhere tonight,” I say, holding my ground. “But if you want to stay and watch the show, I’d like that.” With a pause, I glance down at my grandfather’s spinner ring. The man I despised so much, I wore his hideous ring as a reminder to not turn into him.
I barely had any family left. As much as my dad and I didn’t get along, I didn’t want to lose him. Not entirely. “I don’t want to hate you anymore.” The admission comes out with a crack of emotion in my voice.
My dad sighed deeply, his grip on my shoulder loosening. "I just want what's best for you, son. I know we don't always see eye-to-eye, but you're still my boy. And I love you.”
He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a white leather flask, passing it to me. "This belonged to your mother,” he said. “Your grandfather got it for her on our wedding day.”
A flask.
A fucking flask.
From my grandfather.
No wonder the woman drank herself to death. From the moment she and my dad entered this union, they were plying her with alcohol.
I took it from my dad and turned the flask over in my hands. Inside, liquid sloshed around and I realized it still had alcohol in it. Brushing my fingers over the ornate engraving on the side—my mom's initials - the wave of emotion slammed into me. I looked back up at my dad, his eyes sad but sincere.
“Good luck tonight,” Dad said. “Or… break a leg or whatever.”
As he left my dressing room, shutting the door behind him, I clutched the flask tightly.