Page 31 of Just for the Cameras
“Fine, then you pick.”
“Just go with Flock and Tackle.”
My mouth falls open. “That was one of the first things I said. Why didn’t you just stop me?”
He shrugs. “Wanted to see what else you could come up with.”
I purse my lips, looking him up and down. “You really are an ass.”
CHAPTER 7
GRAYDON
I lean back in mychair, staring out at the quiet coffee shop that’s close to my house. It’s not frequented by tourists or football fans, which makes it the perfect place for me to sit, grab a cup of coffee, and find some peace.
It also makes it the perfect place to have a meeting.
Not to mention, the chairs and booths accommodate my body size.
It’s just past six at night. Commuters are making their way back home outside, a few stumbling in for a cup of caffeine before they probably head off to their workout classes. One of my favorite things to do is lurk in the shadows in the back, watching, hearing what people order, seeing what kind of twist they’re going to put on their coffee.
My phone, resting on the table in front of me, dings with a text message. Casually sipping my coffee, I lift up my phone to see a text from Hutton.
Hutton:Uh, did you see this article? [Link] Graydon St. John Owes Everything to His Father
Bristling with immediate anger, I click on the link and skim the article, letting my eyes linger on quotes from my dad telling the reporter how he’s the one who raised me into the man I am today. How he’s the reason I’m succeeding on the field because of the countless hours he’s spent practicing with me. He’s the reason I have such a level head on my shoulders. And he’s the reason why I grew up in such a stable household…
He’s got to be fucking kidding me.
My phone dings with another text.
Hutton:You should ask for a retraction given that everything in that article is fiction.
Furiously I type out a response.
Graydon:The only thing that’s going to need retraction is my fist from his face.
Hutton:Probably not the best approach.
Graydon:He’s taking credit for everything I did to get to where I am.
Hutton:I know, man. I’m sorry, but I thought it would be best if you saw it before you were approached about his words.
I wipe my hand over my face and take a deep breath, attempting to calm my anger even though I know it won’t help, because this…this is overstepping. This is the kind of shit that pushes me over the edge.
This is what turns me into a goddamn beast, ready to sink my claws into the next victim that attempts to talk to me, because how the fuck dare he, after everything he’s put me through. After the neglect, the passing me off, the…the…
The door to the coffeehouse opens, and Gretchen walks in.
Fuck, she’s here.
I stuff my phone away and clench my teeth, keeping the anger pulsing through me at bay while I take her in.
She is wearing a pair of dangerously high high heels, a black pencil skirt, and a purple blouse tucked in at her waist, and her hair is curled, looking fresh like she just got it done, but I know that’s not the case because she works more hours than most. Somehow, she is just able tokeep it looking like that. Her tight expression is framed by her intense makeup, dark bronzer, and long lashes.
One look at her and you know she busts balls for a living.
The door opens again, and I catch Maple walking in, hands clasped together, looking around nervously with her teeth pulling on the corner of her mouth.
