Pass Interference (Connecticut Kings Book 6)

by Christina C Jones

  I did not.

  After a few more seconds of silence, Eli laughed, even though every adult at the table knew damn well there wasn’t anything funny. “Why on earth would you need to do that, son?”

  “I don’t,” I told him. “I want to get the license. I want to open my own sports agency.”

  No one else caught the narrowing of Cole’s eyes, but I did. She’d just have to eat the annoyance of calling what were our plans, my own, unless she wanted to go at it with our father too. But the thing was – she still hadn’t told him she was pregnant yet, so she’d probably want to tackle the bombshells one at a time.

  This time, I had it covered.

  Eli put his fork down, glaring at me across the table. “I thought we’d squashed this years ago? I’m grooming you to own this team one day, not babysit athletes for the rest of your life!”

  “But I’m so good at it,” I told him, grinning, knowing it would get under his skin. “Sorry though – no, we didn’t squash anything. You didn’t want to hear about it, so you haven’t heard about it. Now you are.”

  “Eli…,” Mel warned, but I already knew it would fall on deaf ears because my father just couldn’t help himself.

  “You have a path laid at your feet,” Eli growled. “I would think you’d be grateful for that!”

  I shook my head, nowhere near backing down from this. “I’m grateful for a lot of things you’ve afforded me – a great childhood, financial stability, an education, experience in this industry. As far as I’m concerned, that’s quite enough – I’ll pass on the keys to the kingdom.”

  “This team isn’t good enough for you now?!” was exactly the response I expected, knowing that Eli’s interest in understanding what I was saying was low.

  “That’s not even remotely what came out of my mouth. I’m not insulting you, not trying to appear ungrateful, nothing like that. I’m just saying I want to build something of my own. Which you should understand. You didn’t build your empire on football alone.”

  It wasn’t talked about much, because most people didn’t really care – the Richardson name was synonymous with football. The Richardson money, however, was built on tech investment. Before any of the big tech and internet giants became what they were now – hell, before I was born – smart people had urged my father to invest in them. Big risks back then had paid off in a massive way, enabling him to secure the owner title he wielded so proudly.

  Deservedly.

  But it had come from hard work and patience and smart investment and taking risks – not – from having shit handed to him.

  Those were the footsteps I wanted to follow in.

  “I built it so my kids would not have to,” he argued, making me shake my head.

  “Sorry, old man. But you raised the wrong kind of kids if that’s what you’re expecting from us, to just fall in line and follow instructions.” I pointed to Cole, then back at myself. “Neither of us is built that way, and I’m baffled as to why you’re expecting me to be content with what… working my way up to a couple hundred thousand a year and biding my time until you hand over the reins?”

  Eli huffed. “So you want a raise? Is that what this is about?”

  “It’s not about the money,” I barked, louder than intended, but… shit. It’s like he was committed to misunderstanding me. “It’s about not being satisfied to simply live the stress-free life you planned out for me. I want more than that.”

  “Well if my business isn’t good enough for you, my food shouldn’t be either. You can leave my table.”

  My face wrinkled up immediately over that shit, but hey – I didn’t have to be told twice.

  I kissed an oblivious Emma on her cheek, making her giggle as she polished off my pasta. When I stood, amid protests from Cole and Mel, I sat her down in my chair, pushing her up to the table.

  “Nate, you do not have to leave,” Mel insisted. “I made a cheesecake, and I—”

  “Save me a slice, okay?” I kissed her cheek too, then moved to my sister and Jordan, offering both a quick goodbye before I waved to my father, who simply grunted.

  That whole asshole thing I used to be pegged with often?

  I got it honest.

  I wasn’t too bothered or offended by my father asking me to leave – I was no fan of being where I wasn’t wanted, I was ready to go anyway, and I wasn’t about to argue with another man over his space.

  What got under my skin was his complete disregard for the fact that I was a grown ass man, more than capable of executing a successful plan for my life. The fact he thought I wanted or needed more of his influence, after he’d already gotten me this far.

  That was the offensive part.

  As I peeled out of his driveway, I called Sloane, hoping she’d pick up. When she did, I tried not to sound too relieved at the sound of her voice.

  “You think you could meet me at my place?” I asked, once we’d passed the usual pleasantries.

  “Your place?”

  The surprise in her voice was warranted – she’d never even been to the condo I lived in now, since her place had always been the one that granted us real, nearly guaranteed privacy.

  “Yeah. I’m headed back up from my father’s house, and I—”

  “Don’t want to be in the car for over an hour,” she finished for me. “I get it, it’s just…yeah. Yes, I can meet you.”

  “You sure?”

  She laughed, but it was soothing. “You kinda sound like you need me to, rather than want me to, so… yeah. I’m assuming your building has codes to get inside?”

  I gave her what she needed and we ended the call, giving me the chance to turn up something loud and ignorant on the radio. The longer I drove, the more upset about that conversation I realized I was, which only made me more annoyed.

  It wasn’t like my father’s disdain for my career goals had come out of the blue. The shit had just been lying dormant until I even mentioned taking the next step of making it real.

  I wasn’t surprised that I beat Sloane to my place, even though she was closer to it than I was when I’d called. The team had the next day off, before they began practice for the next game, so I was banking on her taking the time to pack a bag, and stay the night.

  She showed up at the door in a baggy hoodie and sweats, half her face hidden by sunglasses, and her hair tucked away under a hat. She was barely inside before she started the transformation, stripping all that extra shit off until she was down to a tee shirt and shorts, her hair wild around her shoulders, and that pretty ass smile.

  “Okay,” she sighed, climbing into my lap once we’d put her things away and settled on the couch. Her words broke the veil of silence. “Tell me what’s going on. Did something happen?”

  I looked into her pretty brown orbs, finding genuine concern as her hand came up to stroke the short hair on my chin.

  “This week, I’m going to start my league certification process.”

  Immediately, her mouth broke into a huge grin, and she grabbed both sides of my face. “Really?” she gushed. “You’re finally going for it?”

  “Yeah,” I nodded. “I am.”

  I couldn’t even describe how relieving it was that she just… immediately knew exactly what I was talking about, even though we hadn’t talked about it in a while. It was ever-present in the back of my mind, but the last three years had been devoted to my position with the Kings. A position I felt had given me a great experience to take with me on my next step.

  The sports agency thing was something I’d shared with Sloane long ago – something she had specific, valuable insight on because of her ex-husband. She’d never minimized it, never asked me about remaining under my father’s thumb. As different as our relationship had been back then, she’d never been anything but supportive when it came to my personal development.

  I was glad to see that wasn’t changing now.

  “Okay, so… tell me everything,” she insisted, still wearing that big smile. “Are you just doing NFL certi
fication for now, or are you doing them all? What firm are you looking to start with, or you’re still thinking about starting your own? Is Cole coming with you? When did you decide to go for it?”

  I laughed, grabbing her face to pull her in for a kiss. “Woman, do you really expect me to answer all those questions at one time?”

  “Sorry,” she chuckled. “I may have gotten a teensy bit carried away, but I’m just really excited for you. You told me about this… what, the first year we met? You’d just finished that law degree.”

  I nodded. “Yep. I just knew you’d be impressed.”

  “Because you didn’t realize I was feeling very anti-agent because of Garrett,” she laughed. “Almost ruined your chances. You’re lucky I’m so nice.”

  “You did give me some great advice,” I told her, burying my fingers in the hair at the nape of her neck. “I almost didn’t even take that Assistant Director of Player Success job, but you told me the experience would be valuable. And that being able to say I worked the front office would be a draw for future clients.”

  She furrowed her brow. “Are you really about to sit here and try to convince me you didn’t take that job just so your sister wouldn’t have a one-up on you?”

  “There was that too,” I laughed. “But to answer one of your many questions… yeah, I think she’s coming with me. Maybe. We’ll see.”

  Altering her position to settle against my shoulder, legs draped across my lap, she shook her head. “It’s exciting either way, and I know you’ll thrive, but the two of you together? I can just imagine the energy. You two competing over who can sign the biggest clients, get the best endorsements – you know what you should do? Get Wil Cunningham’s crew to follow you around, make a whole show of it. You and your twin competing against each other, talking shit, but then ultimately celebrating your shared success? TV gold.”

  “You know… I wish I hated that idea, but I don’t,” I admitted. “I actually agree with you.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Duh, because it’s a great idea. But um… why do I get the feeling there’s more to this? You didn’t ask me to come to you just so you could tell me you were getting your… MLB license?”

  “NFL first,” I clarified. “Go with what I know first, and then yeah, we’ll go for the others. But you’re right… it’s not just that.”

  A sad sort of smile crossed her lips – this was a situation where there was no pleasure in being right. “Something happened with your father?” she correctly guessed, making me narrow my eyes.

  “How the hell did you know that?”

  “Well, I’ve known you for four years, Nate. That’s the only thing I’ve ever seen just really get under your skin. So… what was it this time?”

  I blew out a sigh, closing my eyes as I sank back into the couch cushions. She didn’t push when it took me a moment to verbalize my issue, just waited.

  “I’m just struggling with the amount of influence he wants to have over my life, you know? I mean, it’s always been kinda frustrating, but lately it’s to a point where I have to wonder if he realizes that I’m a grown man.”

  Sloane smirked, but didn’t say anything until I prompted. “Well… you sure you want my input? Because you know, I’m going to give it to you real, no water to wash it down.”

  “Please do,” I insisted. “I want to hear your position on this.”

  Her eyebrow lifted, but she nodded. “Okay. I think… Eli is having a little trouble swallowing the idea that you’re a grown ass man, because you have only recently swallowed it yourself.”

  I frowned. “Explain.”

  “Okay – think about it. Your father raised you, right? You were in his house, until you went off to his alma mater, on his dime. Well… I’m sure you had scholarships too, but you get my point.”

  I tipped my head in agreement. “Of course.”

  “So,” she continued. “You get your business degree, minor in sports management, move on to law school – he paid for that. You finish school, yay, and then… you move right into a job on his team. Before that, you interned on his team. Everything you’ve done followed a very specific narrative and has always been under the careful direction or control of your father. But… I’ve watched you during that time. When you and I met, you were very content with your life, but as you approached thirty, you started feeling the discontent. And then the birthday hit, and you… I don’t know. A switch flipped. Not like your biological clock exactly, or… I don’t know, maybe it is. Only for you, it wasn’t about a rush to get married, or have children… it was about being your own man. Be patient with your father. It’s an adjustment.”

  Instead of immediately responding, I took a moment to digest the truth of her words. But after the moment had passed, I still shook my head.

  “I get what you’re saying, I really do. But… I don’t believe I’m the only one who’s changed. Something with him is different. He’s getting more and more aggressive about it.”

  She nodded. “Oh it’s absolutely not just you. Eli is getting older – he’s probably trying to make sure everything is lined up for y’all, before he’s not here to. And now with Emmanuelle, it likely feels urgent. Is that when you noticed him ramp it up? When she was born?”

  “Now that you mention… yes. That is when he started getting super territorial, started really pushing kids. I guess he hasn’t thought about his grandkids being the same age as their aunt Emma. This is some talk show shit.”

  Sloane laughed. “Stop!”

  “I’m serious,” I chuckled. “Madison is already old enough to babysit her step-aunt.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “Oh so you’re considering yourself her stepfather now?” she asked, grinning because she knew I was playing with her… mostly.

  “Madison is my homie, aiight?”

  “Mmmhmm, keep that energy when her father finds out about you. Which is… inevitable. Now that she knows, and Joan knows - which means it’s only a matter of time before she slips and tells Miles - I’m expecting a confrontation at any moment.”

  I frowned. “So why not just tell him?”

  “Because I’m afraid of what he’ll do.”

  “To you?!”

  She shook her head. “No. To you.”

  “Man,” I sucked my teeth. “Ain’t nobody scared of Garrett’s big ass.”

  “It’s not about that. I don’t want any drama, but we’re past the point of that, so now I’m just… avoiding it as long as I can.”

  I grinned. “I appreciate your honesty.”

  “Good. So that means you’ll give your father a break?”

  My eyes went wide. “What the hell does he need a break from me for? He’s the one acting like it’s a slap in the face that I want to work for myself, just like he does!”

  “Your father is a Black man who, against all the odds, has managed to amass enough wealth to afford his children a life where they don’t have to work. Where they don’t have to want for anything. He wants you to appreciate it.”

  “I do,” I argued. “But the problem with that is, he didn’t raise us not to work. He raised us to get our own. Now when I want to go do that, he’s mad at it?!”

  Sloane laughed. “Parenting is complicated, Nate! Yes, it’s wildly contradictory, and he’s going to realize that, and accept you, and support you, and be proud of you. He might just be mad and swear you’re an ungrateful child first. Just try not to take it personally. It’s not about you. It’s about him.”

  “This is crazy.”

  “This is parenting. If you’re going to be a stepfather… honey you better figure it out,” she laughed. “Now… tell me more about how you’re going to make this sports agent thing happen.”

  I was more than happy to shift the subject back to my plans, rather than dwelling on the baffling situation with my father. I didn’t doubt that Sloane was right, but honestly… I preferred hearing her gush about how great she thought I was going to be overhearing her urge patience with my father.

  I d
idn’t want to be patient.

  I wanted space to make my own damn decisions.

  And I had every intention of taking it.

  “Coach Brooks is here to see you.”

  “Send her in. Then you’re good to go for the day,” I told Elliot, using the intercom system at the desk. I pushed out a heavy sigh as I waited for her to breach my doorway, knowing that for once, this might turn out to be a not-so-pleasant visit.

  She breezed through the doorway, doing a good job of appearing unbothered, but I knew her better than that.

  Terrence Grant had gotten under her skin.

  Because of that, she’d gotten in his ass.

  Problem was… she’d taken it a little too far this time.

  “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit to the principal’s office?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. Her expression was hard, but in her Kings v-neck and bright gold jersey shorts, and her hair pulled up in a puff, she looked just as soft as I knew she was.

  Shit was distracting.

  “Terrence Grant.”

  Her jaw tightened, and she shifted her stance, but didn’t say a word.

  “Really, Sloane?” I asked, and all she did was twist her lips to the side, casting her gaze somewhere out the window.

  “He’s going to be fine – since you seem to be dying to know.”

  She sucked her teeth. “Duh. Everybody except Terrence Grant knew he was going to be fine. And the only reason he didn’t is because he’s a little bi—”

  “Sloane!”

  “I am fucking sick of him, Nate!”

  My lips parted, a little surprised by her outburst. Terrence was… a cornball, honestly. He never knew when to shut the fuck up, never knew when to leave a situation alone, was constantly inserting himself where he didn’t belong, and he had a problem following instructions on the field. He grated the nerves of everyone on the team, from my father’s office to the training room to the locker room to the damn field.