Sweet Rome (Sweet Home, #1.5)(18)
Taking a deep breath, I met his cold eyes and declared, “I’m done.”
That wiped the smirk off his face, and his graying eyebrows pulled together in confusion. “Done with what, boy?”
“All of it. Your controlling shit, Momma being overbearing and ragging on me nonstop for being such a f*cking mistake to you both.” I leaned forward to hammer the final nail into the Prince Empire’s coffin, seeing my daddy’s lip curl in annoyance at the bold gesture. “And I’m not marrying Shel, not for anything. There isn’t enough money in the world or any threat you can issue that would make me want to legally bind myself to her for life. Cut me out of your lives if you want, but I can’t and I won’t do it.”
The silence was suffocating in the expansive, antique-decorated room as the two Prince men stared each other down. Finally, my daddy sat forward, calm as the sea, and said, “I don’t know where the hell you got the idea that you had any choice in this.”
Exactly the response I was expecting.
“I do have a choice. And I’m not going through with it. I’m going to enter the draft, and this time you can’t stop me. I’m gonna leave this place once and for all, and live my own goddamn life. God, you should be proud! Why do I get the only father in the whole of Alabama who doesn’t want his son to enter the NFL? I’m good, Daddy, real good, if only you’d realize it. Maybe if you come to one of my games, you’d see I wasn’t right for a life in the business world.”
Daddy stilled, his face burning red. Then he launched to his feet, swiping at his desk. It took me completely by surprise, and I jerked back in my seat. He’d always been physical, domineering, but this reaction seemed kind of extreme, even for him. He was always calm and collected, especially in public, especially at his work.
Slamming his hands on the solid mahogany desktop, he yelled, “You will do it, boy! It’s your duty! Prince Oil needs the Blairs, and I will not allow some nobody from outside the family to weasel his way into my company when Shelly finally marries! The business has been passed down to the next generation for years, but, oh no, I get the punk of a son who decides against it. Jesus Christ!”
I quickly stood and, shocked at his outburst, shouted back, “What the hell? What’s wrong with you? Why’re you reacting like this? This can’t be just about me not wanting to marry Shel. You’re acting crazy. What’s really going on?”
His eyes narrowed and a strange, almost panicked expression flashed across his face. “It is about the marriage! You’re gonna do it, if it’s the last thing you do!”
Running my hands through my hair, I sighed deeply and began backing out of the room. “I’m done. Deal with it. And don’t bother trying to convince me otherwise.”
I opened the door to the lobby, and Mr. Blair, Shelly’s daddy, spotted me. “Rome!” He held his arms wide, smiling his expensive veneered smile. He wasn’t a bad man, just had his priorities messed up: money and social standing first, and they trumped everything else. Shelly clearly had daddy issues, and the way he put most things above her, it didn’t take a genius to figure out why.
“Hey, Mr. Blair,” I said as he embraced me.
“You here to talk about the wedding? Just think, by this time next year, you’ll be officially family.” My stomach dropped and I stepped back. Mr. Blair lost his smile as he glanced over my shoulder and saw the state of my daddy’s office. “Joe? What the—”
“I’m not marrying your daughter, sir. I don’t want her as my wife and I don’t want anything to do with the company either. I just came down here so my daddy knows I’m serious. Sorry if it causes you any problems, but I just can’t do it.” With that, I left the building.
I’d stood up to my daddy. I’d actually f*cking done it. But the determined look in his eyes as I left made me feel nothing but dread for what lay ahead.
*
Texas A&M, Kyle Field, College Station, Texas.
“What’s going on, son?” Coach sat before me in the locker room. We’d just finished playing the Aggies, and to say I’d just had a nightmare of a game would be an understatement. Three interception passes… Six sacks… Six f*cking sacks!
Sitting head down, still in my dirty uniform, still in my cleats, I shrugged my shoulders. “I can’t focus. Shit! I was terrible! Thank f*ck we won or I’d be getting run out of Tuscaloosa!” I threw my head back, running my hands down my face, feeling completely drained.
Coach sighed, moving his chair to sit opposite me. “Rome, I’ve known you nearly four years now, went to some of your high school games before persuading you to join the Tide. This is no time for you to mess up. The world knows you’re certain to be a first-round draft pick.” He grew silent for a moment before he asked, “Is it your folks?”
That surprised me, and I snapped my head back to face him. “What?”
“Look, son, I don’t know much about your home situation. You keep your personal life pretty locked tight. But I know when someone don’t have the support of their folks. I’ve been coaching a hell of a long time, and you’re not the first player to leak his home life onto the field.”
A lump bobbed in my throat, and I checked around me, only to find that the rest of the team was long gone. I stared Coach straight in the face and nodded. “They don’t want me to enter the draft. They want me to take over the family business and marry a chick I don’t want. I had a huge argument with my daddy a few days ago over it all. I can’t stop reliving it.”