Blocked

by Jennifer Lane

  “I know. They’re just taking us somewhere private to talk.”

  “So you’re not staying?”

  “Do you want me to?” When I didn’t answer, he ran his hand through his silver hair. His tanned face sported a few more wrinkles, but he looked every bit the debonair artist he’d been when he met my mother years ago: tall, lean, and charming. She’d first fallen in love with his abstract paintings, and it hadn’t been long before she’d fallen for him. At least that’s what the documentaries said, propping up their marriage as a story of devoted love between two passionate, creative souls. What a farce.

  We arrived at a metro park with wooded paths. Although it was a beautiful day, the parking lot wasn’t very full in the early afternoon.

  “How ’bout a walk?” When Dad smiled, his white teeth dazzled.

  Do I have a choice? “Sure.”

  Phil had taken the team to this park last spring, the day after we’d played like shit in a conference game. He’d gathered us by the entrance to the main path—a hilly, three-mile loop. “Take a long, easy, run, guys,” he’d told us. “Work that despicable play out of your system. Commune with nature.” After two loops, he’d sat us down in the grass and had us meditate for thirty minutes. It had become one of my favorite places in town after that.

  I hoped my dad taking me here wouldn’t screw that up.

  Brad and China walked about a hundred yards in front of us, and Dad’s protection detail walked about the same distance behind. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, dappling the packed-dirt path, and birds chirped as they flitted overhead. The light breeze and tree cover kept the temperature comfortable. I inhaled the smell of leaves and felt a blessed letup of the irritability that had plagued me the past two weeks.

  We’d walked a few minutes before I realized Dad hadn’t spoken. “I see you’re planning to take Mom’s advice,” I offered.

  “What’s that?” He shook his head, seeming to shake off distraction.

  “Talking while walking. It’s better for guys to do something active while discussing something important. They’re less likely to get emotionally flooded.”

  He stopped and stared at me. “When did you get so smart?”

  When I grew up without you. “I’m just citing John Gottman’s research. Mom used to take me for a walk when she had to drop some bad news on me.”

  He grimaced, then resumed walking. “You’re right. I do have something important to tell you…some bad news.” The light feeling I’d experienced vanished. “And this does have to do with your mother. She told me you’ve been asking about me.”

  Some more minutes elapsed in silence, and I braced myself for him to get it over with already.

  “How much do you know about my painting career?” he asked.

  Random. “Um…you won some award when you were twenty-two.”

  He chuckled bitterly. “Yes, the famous award.” He looked at his Italian leather shoes. “Then it all went downhill.”

  “I thought you were a well-known artist when Mom met you.”

  “Well-known for my earlier work. I’d hit a dry spell when I met her.” He kicked a rock, which seemed uncharacteristic for a suave, mature man like himself. “I remember when I met her at that gallery the night of my show—she was so smart, so classy…” His soft smile faded. “I was embarrassed that the place was just about empty. I’d become a has-been painter. Then she told me she’d convince her father to be my benefactor. ‘Talent like this needs to be nurtured,’ she said.”

  Whoa. I’d never heard about Grandfather bankrolling Dad’s painting.

  “But I lost my touch. The more money Mr. Monroe gave me, the uglier my paintings became. God, I created some monstrosities back then. I was frozen.” He grunted. “Just like that old man.”

  I felt my eyebrows arch. I’d never heard anyone brave enough to disparage my grandfather. Had Dad always disliked the far-reaching influence of the Monroe family? He’d claimed he was fine with Mom keeping her surname after they married, then passing it along to Jessica and me, but for the first time I wondered if that was true.

  “Finally, after seeing how frustrated I was, Lois asked me if I wanted to quit painting and work for her father. There was an opening in one of his property management companies.” He blew out a breath. “I never should’ve done it, Dane.”

  I tried to figure out how this meandering story related to the bad news he promised to deliver. “Why?”

  “Because it fucking emasculated me!”

  His shout carried over the treetops, and I looked ahead to see Brad and China turned toward us, appearing ready to draw their weapons.

  Dad must have noticed their alarm because he held his arm out and yelled, “We’re okay!” He turned to wave to the agents behind us, then swiveled around and smothered his face with his hands. “Christ, I’m a mess.”

  I’d never seen him like this. “Uh, let’s keep walking, okay?” I moved forward and exhaled when he joined me.

  “I can’t live without my art.” His voice was tight and controlled. “I can’t live someone else’s life, under someone else’s rules. I can’t play hired hand, living off Daddy’s coattails, pretending I give two shits about corporate domination.”

  “So then quit.” I shrugged.

  He shook his head. “If only it were that simple.” He walked a couple of steps, then grabbed my shoulders, turning me to face him. “Don’t ever give up on your passion, Dane. You’re such a gifted athlete. Keep pursuing your dreams, okay?”

  After failing to attend any of my matches during the past three years, he had no right to spout this Hallmark greeting card bullshit at me. “What about supporting Jessica’s dreams? Have you been to any of her swim meets since she started high school?”

  His eyes flared. “I know I haven’t been there for you two…I’ve been too disgusted by the whole charade.” He shook his head. “Dane, don’t be like me. Don’t let your mother’s ambition prevent you from pursuing your passion.”

  “This isn’t about Mom! We’re talking about your shitty parenting.” I looked ahead and noticed Brad and China had stopped walking as well, waiting for us to finish our bitch-fest. They must think my family’s fucked-up beyond repair.

  “This is about Lois,” Dad said. “She’s making me tell you what’s going on.”

  I scoffed, “You’re a grown-ass man, Dad. She can’t make you do anything.”

  “You’re so naïve.”

  Swear to God, I want to punch him.

  “Your mother’s convinced that me telling you is the only way to prevent you from turning out like me.”

  “Not a chance that will happen.”

  “Yeah? She told me you got a girl pregnant.”

  I inhaled all the air in the park as my vision narrowed until all I could see was scarlet. How could Mom have done that to me? Apparently all the secrets she kept were only secret from me. I fought for air and squeezed the sides of my head, trying to keep my brain from bursting through my skull.

  “Dane, you okay?” China shouted from somewhere in the distance.

  I pried my eyes open and lowered my shaking hands as I nodded at her. Then I spun around to Dad, and the rage he must have seen in my eyes made him take a step back. “Don’t you dare talk about that,” I hissed. “I didn’t even know—”

  “I don’t love your mother anymore.” He delivered the news in monotone, like he was ordering room service.

  “What?” I demanded.

  “It’s why I haven’t been around. I didn’t want to hurt you kids. But I’m in love with another woman—a woman who truly gets me, truly supports my art. I’m painting again, Dane. It’s just flowing from me now!”

  I froze speechless, my heart on overdrive.

  “I haven’t told Jessie yet, because your mother and I don’t think she can keep it secret. Maybe when she’s older. You’ll keep it secret, of course. An affair getting out would destroy your mother’s campaign.” He cupped my shoulder. “Whew.” He looked up to the sky. �
��I’m sorry to drop that on you, but what a relief to get it off my chest.”

  The rush of blood in my ears whooshed to a deafening roar, then suddenly, there was silence. I swallowed and watched a squirrel scurry across the path.

  When I saw Dad’s hand resting on my shoulder, I knocked it away. I stepped up and got in his face. “Fuck. YOU. I will never become like you.” I shoved his chest, and he sprawled to the ground on his butt. Then I pivoted and sprinted toward Brad and China.

  “Get me out of here,” I panted.

  Without hesitation, my agents came up on each side of me, and we ran wordlessly back to the car.

  Chapter 13

  “LET’S SEE THAT ANKLE,” Tina said as she unwrapped the compression gauze from my right foot. The makeshift training room was dark like my mood. A little less than one month into my college volleyball career—and only one week into my college classes—I’d already sustained an injury. I’d rolled my ankle after coming down on a blocker’s foot a few days ago and hadn’t been cleared to practice since. Fortunately I had Secret Service to drive me to class, but I had to get back out there if I wanted a starting role on the team again in this lifetime.

  I braced myself as the athletic trainer rotated and pressed on my ankle. But the shooting pains were gone—it was just a little sore.

  “Looks better,” Tina said, then blew out a breath. “From what I can see in this janitor’s-closet lighting, anyway. They need to pick up the pace on building the new arena.” She opened a cabinet drawer and took out a tube of gel.

  “So I can play today?”

  Tina frowned as she hooked up the ultrasound machine. “How did your ankle tolerate morning lift?”

  Our six a.m. weightlifting session seemed like eons ago. “It was fine. I didn’t do jumps or anything with impact.” And that was because our bald strength coach had watched me like a bald eagle, claiming he didn’t want Tina to yell at him for letting me do too much.

  “Good.”

  I neglected to mention that I could barely lift one-fifteen on the bench press. For some reason my strength had been crap recently.

  Tina squirted some cool gel and rubbed it over my skin. She took the metal ultrasound device—it looked like a showerhead to me—and smoothed it over my ankle in slow circles. “Tell me if this starts to feel too warm.”

  I leaned back, rested my elbows on the cushioned training table, and closed my eyes. Don’t fall asleep. I’d already dozed off in one of my classes earlier. Allison typically woke me up when I drifted off in class, but this morning she’d let me sleep until the end of the lecture. When I’d snapped at her for not waking me up, she’d flinched. Then she’d told me I needed to take better care of myself.

  I winced, remembering the hurt look on her face. She probably hated me now. Just like Mateo had stopped texting me after I’d yelled at him for not taking his blood sugar readings. Just like Coach had scowled when I’d stunk up the gym with my horrible hits the practice before I’d sustained my injury. Just like Dane had started going out of his way to avoid me. He hadn’t even come home between class and practice today. Not that I could entirely blame him. It had been two weeks since I’d found out about Nina’s abortion, and I knew I’d hurt him with my silence. But I had no idea what to say. How could he have done such a thing?

  “So how’s your nutrition going, Lucia?”

  I opened my eyes to see Tina looking straight at me. My heartbeat kicked up a notch. Why was she asking me that? “Really good.”

  “It looks like you’ve lost some weight.”

  Score! I’d been worried about gaining fat without being able to practice. I certainly hadn’t wanted to negate all my hard work due to a stupid injury. “Yeah, well, I’m following the nutritionist’s advice.”

  “Really?” Tina cocked an eyebrow. Her dark blond ponytail swung as she shook her head. “Whitney said you no-showed your second appointment.”

  My throat tightened as I sat up. “Oh, no! I-I forgot about it, I swear. I’ll call her to apologize. Am…am I in trouble with Coach?”

  She kept rubbing circles on my ankle. “Your coach doesn’t know you missed the appointment. Whitney only called me because she knew I was worried about you.”

  “You’re worried about me?” I gulped.

  “I’m concerned, Lucia. You need to reschedule your appointment.” The gel began to feel as hot as my face did. “What have you eaten so far today?”

  “I had a banana after our lift.”

  Her brown eyes blinked at me, like she was expecting more.

  “…And, um…” Think! “…a sandwich for lunch.”

  “What kind of sandwich?” She clicked off the machine and reached for a towel.

  My face now blazed. “Why the hell does that matter?”

  Her head shot up from toweling the gel off my ankle, and I realized I’d just snapped at yet one more person who hadn’t deserved it. I squeezed my hands together to hide their trembling, then swallowed. “Turkey. Turkey and cheese, on wheat bread. And, and I’m drinking lots of water.”

  “That’s not enough.” Worry lines creased the corners of her eyes. “It’s nearing dinnertime, and you need more fuel in your tank than that. I want you to eat more, okay?”

  I nodded. Not a chance. I grabbed my sock and rolled it on. “So can I play?”

  She sighed. “You can warm up, then let me know how it’s feeling.” She pointed two fingers at her eyes, then rotated her wrist to point them at my eyes. “I’m watching you, Lucia. Watching to make sure you’ll be all right.”

  Despite her threat, my shoulders drooped with relief. I could practice! When I hopped down from the training table, a woozy lightheadedness overtook me, and I swayed for a moment. Luckily, Tina had turned away. “Thanks, Tina.” I took deliberate steps out to the gym, away from her scrutiny.

  A few teammates had gathered on the bleachers to watch the end of the men’s team practice, and I joined them. But a quick scan revealed the absence of my roommate. “Where’s Dane?” I asked Kaitlyn.

  She shrugged. “Dunno.”

  Nina leaned around Kaitlyn to look at me. Whoops. I hadn’t seen her there—I hoped she wasn’t mad at me for saying his name.

  “Dane got kicked out of practice,” Nina said with a wide grin.

  I guess if she brought him up, she must have been okay with it. But Dane got kicked out? “What happened?”

  “Pete told me on a water break that Dane mouthed off to Phil. When Jason—he’s the assistant coach—when Jason got in Dane’s face to shut him down, Dane pushed him. He’s in truuhhh-bull.”

  I covered my mouth with one hand. What had made Dane lose it? It was unthinkable to disrespect a coach like that. “What’ll happen to him?”

  “Suspension, probably.” Nina snorted. “Maybe loss of scholarship. Not like his family would have trouble affording a state school, anyway.”

  My parents could definitely afford Highbanks without an athletic scholarship, but that wasn’t the point. It would be so shameful to lose my scholarship, and I knew Dane must have felt embarrassed, probably even devastated. I couldn’t believe it, but despite everything, my heart ached for him. Nina was sitting right here, suffering from what he’d done to her, and still I worried about him. Still I had dreams about my beautiful blond gigante. Really sexy dreams. I wished those dreams would stop. Well, maybe not.

  “Whatever happens to him,” Nina said, her voice lowering now that the men’s team had finished and our coaches approached, “he deserves it.”

  “Ladies.” Coach’s sharp tone set me on edge. “We have three days to prepare for the number-five team in the nation. If that doesn’t focus your energy for this practice, nothing will. This is the time for volleyball. I want you to leave behind all worries about classes…”

  I could do that. I knew I should be worried about classes, but I could barely stay awake for them. Concern for my grades took energy I didn’t seem to have.

  “…your families…”

  That would
be tougher, with my dad running for leader of the free world.

  “…and all boyfriends, boys, boys who are friends, and anything of that nature.”

  Yeah. That was impossible. Especially when my boy crush played the very sport that was supposed to elicit my unwavering focus.

  “Madison, get us started on warm-up.”

  I looked behind me and noticed Maddie and the rest of my teammates had arrived without my seeing them. Of course they were there. None of us was ever late to practice.

  When I popped up, the gym spun, and I started to go down. I scrabbled for Kaitlyn’s arm and clung onto it until my dizziness subsided.

  “You okay?” she asked.

  “Sí, estoy bien.” My heart raced, and I glanced up to see Tina eyeing me from across the gym. It didn’t help that she stood right next to Allison, who stared at me with her own brand of perceptiveness, honed from years of law enforcement.

  As my teammates and I hustled onto the court, Coach’s voice stopped me short. “Lucia.”

  “Yes?” I forced myself to look at his face, which still felt unnatural.

  “Tina said you’re cleared to rejoin us today.”

  “Yes, Coach.”

  “Our offense has missed your big arm. Make us proud.” He gestured for me to get going.

  I nodded as I jogged to the net. In other words, No matter how much your ankle hurts, keep going. Suck it up. When I jumped for the blocking drill, my ankle didn’t hurt at all, happily. Unhappily, my legs felt like refried beans. Limp, wobbly beans. I barely cleared the top of the net—wait, they’d set the net at women’s height, right? My stomach tightened as I realized the problem wasn’t the net…it was me. Besides feeling too heavy to get off the ground, I was breathing so hard it felt like I’d just run ten suicides. This would be a long practice if I couldn’t force my body to get with the program.

  Maddie started us on the footwork combination, and all I could hear was my rapid panting for air. My vision seemed to narrow, with blackness creeping in at the edges, and my lips felt numb. I crouched down to shuffle to one side of the court, then pivoted…