“What a magical story,” he said sarcastically.
“Fine, what was your best memory?”
“I will never forget the first professional football game I got to go to. My dad played, but my mom always got a babysitter for me because she thought I was too young to go. At some point, she decided that she would bring me. I played football with my dad since I could throw a ball, but I had never seen him play. It was incredible. There were so many people cheering and having a good time. I knew that I wanted to be a part of that.”
“You’ve never told me about your parents before. I’ve told you about my parents, I want to hear about yours. I bet they’re so normal in comparison,” I said.
He looked down. Did I say something wrong?
Martin took a deep breath and started talking.
“I don’t know if you knew this, but my dad was once a really great football player. He and my mom met in college and after he graduated, he went pro. They got married and had me a few years later. He played his first few years in Miami, Florida, but then he was traded to play for Denver. He was really good. The Broncos even won a Super Bowl when he was with them. He made a ton of money with them too; I remember him driving home in a brand new Ferrari one day.”
I was shocked. I didn’t know why I pegged him as middle-class. If my parents knew this guy came from money, maybe they would give up on the dreams of marrying me off to Sebastian.
“I had no idea,” I said.
“This is where things began to go south for my family,” I said. “My dad didn’t know how to handle his new fortune. He spend it on frivolous things—new cars, houses, and girls. My mom took care of me while my dad was away with the jersey chasers in his secret apartments all over the city.
“That’s awful,” I said. “Did they get a divorce?”
“No, they’re actually still married. He stopped seeing other women for a while and they reconciled, but things were never the same. But a lot of money was still coming in. Well, it was, until he hurt his shoulder. He had surgeries on it, but no one could fix it. He had to retire at the age of thirty. I don’t think he’s held a steady job since then. Without football, he had nothing to do but drink and gamble. Actually, he’s still an alcoholic. My parents live in separate houses, but they’re still legally married.”
“Did he ever try to get help for his addiction?” I asked.
“He went to rehab a few times. Each time he came back, he was good for about a month. Then he’d go to the casino or meet up with old friends and then he was off the wagon again. Finally, my mom gave up trying and took me to live in a new house.”
“What does your mom do?” I asked, suddenly fascinated with his upbringing.
“She’s a nurse. It was always nice to have her around to check out my sports injuries. She had to sacrifice so much to give me everything I needed. She worked extra shifts to be able to pay for my football camps. She didn’t make a lot of money, but I was always taken care of.”
Hearing this made me sad. My parents had more money than they knew what to do with. We could have had similar childhoods, but his dad couldn’t hold on to their money.
“Does your mom still work?” I asked. I honestly didn’t know a lot of moms who worked. All of my mom’s friends spent their lives on the tennis court or in the country club.
“Yeah, and she still struggles to get by. I try to help her out as much as I can, but I can’t work during the football season. She can hardly pay the bills since she’s given so much of her own money to help keep my dad alive.”
“You give her money?” I was shocked. Kids weren’t supposed to give their parents money.
“During the off-season, I try to work the late shift at the grocery store. It gets to be a lot, between classes, homework, and working out. Luckily, I have a full scholarship, and the athletic department takes good care of us. I don’t need a lot of money, so I can send most of it to my mom. That’s why there’s so much pressure on me to go pro. I need to be able to take care of both me and my parents.”
I could hardly comprehend. It was so outside of my understanding of what parent-child relationships were supposed to be like.
I wasn’t even correct about my first assessment of his social status; he was actually poor. Not even my dad would be okay with a potential relationship between us.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, not knowing what else to say. “I had no idea.”
“It’s fine,” he said. “What difference does it make? It’s not like you can do anything about it.”
He was right. My parents canceled my credit cards. I was about to have the same fate as Martin.
“Do you still see your dad?” I asked.
“Hardly ever. I don’t even like to see him. It’s a complicated relationship; I looked up to him so much when I was younger, but as I grew up, I saw how he abandoned his family. My mom gives him money to pay for rent in a dumpy apartment and for food. I think he spends it all on booze. We got in a pretty bad fight the last time I saw him. That was about four years ago.”
“What happened?”
“I had worked really hard that spring before I came here for camp. I saved up enough money that my mom wouldn’t have to worry about me. He came over to the house to see me. Everything was fine; we were talking about football and he seemed like his old self. I left the room for a few minutes to go to the bathroom, and when I came back, an envelope full of money that I had saved up was missing.”
“He stole from you?” This was absurd.
“Yep, a few hundred dollars. I would have maybe let it slide, but I really needed it. I confronted him, and he hit me.”
“Did you call the police?”
“Nope. I had been working out to get in shape to play college ball. He was a washed up has-been with alcoholism. I kicked his ass. My mom cried, but I think she was secretly relieved that he was gone. I took my money back and never saw him again.”
“Are you an only child, like me?” I asked. Every answer he gave made me think of five more questions.
“I have half-siblings. I don’t really know them, though. My dad had a lot of affairs, and apparently wasn’t great at safe sex. I met one brother when I was in high school. I think there’s another brother who’s probably about fifteen now.”
“Are you kidding me?” I squealed. As an only child, I couldn’t even imagine having siblings. Secret half siblings was an even crazier notion.
“Nope. The older one is actually a freshman at UCLA. He’s a running back, but I heard he’s going to be pretty good. It must be a genetic trait.”
“I hope that’s the only thing you get from your dad. He sounds like a terrible person.”
“Yeah,” he said sadly. “He wasn’t always that way. I think the fame and the money turned him into something else. And the alcohol.”
“Is that why you never get drunk?” I asked, piecing my observations together.
“Yes,” he responded, matter-of-factly. “I want to make sure I can stop drinking at any time. I’ve seen the effect it can have on others. I would never want to hurt anyone else the way my dad hurt my mom.”
He was so sweet and caring. I didn’t deserve him. I was a spoiled rich girl who had a pony, for goodness sake! His mom hardly had enough money to pay the bills.
I suddenly felt very embarrassed by any display of wealth that I had ever shown around him. I regretted telling him about my travels and my designer clothes. It seemed petty and insignificant.
“I’m so sorry,” I said again. “I know it doesn’t mean anything to you, but I feel terrible.”
“Thanks,” he said. “It feels good to get this off my chest.”
“Does anyone else know?”
“No one knows all the details, but everyone on the team knows about my dad. He was a legend back in his heyday. Everyone knows he got hurt and retired, but no one knows how far he fell.”
“Usually when Sasha and I talk about sad things, we eat ice cream. However, we’re still locked in your room so I can’t go and get some
.”
“That’s okay,” he laughed. “I have you here with me. That’s all the comforting I need.”
He gave me an appreciative kiss on the nose. It was starting to get dark outside and chilly air was blowing through the cracked window. I shivered.
Without asking, Martin pulled an oversized Princeton sweatshirt from a drawer and handed it to me. I put it on, practically drowning in excess fabric. I wanted to be the girl who wore her boyfriend’s too-big sweatshirts with leggings at the gym.
I wanted to sit in the stands and cheer him on as he made his professional football debut. I wanted to be the proud girlfriend telling everyone about her football star boyfriend.
“I hate to ask,” I hesitated. “But what happens if you aren’t drafted in the first few rounds?”
“Believe me, I think about it all the time. I even have nightmares where I think I’ll be the number one draft, and end up not being picked up at all. I suppose I’ll have to get a job of some sort. Maybe I could get a job in the front office of a pro team. I’ll have a degree from Princeton soon. That’s something, isn’t it?”
“I sure hope so,” I replied. I had been thinking more about my future lately, too. Since I no longer had money to fall back on, my choices were to get a good job immediately, or marry rich.
“I’m not worried about your future,” I decided.
“Why is that?”
“Because I know you’re willing to do whatever it takes to make things work out. People like me are hopeless cases and need a lot of help. You weren’t handed everything in life. I know you’ll go far.”
His eyes were shiny. “That really means a lot. I don’t hear that very often.”
“Promise me that when you’re famous, you’ll get me tickets to your games.”
“Do you even like watching football?” he asked.
“Of course I do! Why else would I devote my life to cheering you guys on? Cheerleading was the only way to get close to the sports that I was never allowed to play.”
“You’re full of surprises, Alexa Hall.”
“So are you, Martin Thomas.”
We grinned at each other like stupid kids, falling in love even though they had no business being together. Despite my best efforts, I was falling in love with a boy that would only ever cause me trouble.
Martin
When you keep secrets for so long, it feels as though a part of you has completely left your body when you finally reveal them.
I felt lighter, like I had removed a burden. I just hoped that she didn’t feel the burden knowing about my past. I trusted her, though. That must mean something.
I tried to watch Alexa’s facial expressions when I was telling her everything, but I couldn’t quite read what was going through her mind. Of course, she was shocked and curious.
My family drama was the stuff of reality television. In fact, my dad was once approached for a celebrity rehab show, but the deal fell through when my mom wouldn’t sign a release. They wanted to feature the whole family. It would have brought more money in, but it also would have humiliated us all in the process.
Alexa nodded as I explained things, but I wasn’t sure she could comprehend it all. I wasn’t even sure if she knew how things like bills and credit card debt even worked.
I knew her dad worked, but I don’t think she understood the concept of working overtime or having multiple jobs just to get by. I had overheard her in the past referring to middle class people as poor. We were poor and my dad was trailer trash. We were like the princess and the pauper.
Perhaps it was because I revealed a dark secret about my life, but suddenly, I felt too exposed. I grabbed a clean pair of underwear and shorts and pulled them on. I was exhausted. Between the intense, physical sex and the airing of emotional baggage, I was drained.
“Tell me more about your family,” I said, laying back and closing my eyes.
“You already know that they have a lot of money and like to control my life. What else is there?” she asked.
“I gave you the gritty details of my family life,” I argued. “Tell me your secrets.”
“Well, you already know that my father didn’t come from much but struck it rich with technology. My mom is from a wealthy family and has never worked a day in her life.”
“What exactly does she do all day? I’ve never really understood that part.”
“There are lots of ways to occupy your time if you have the funds. She spends a few hours every day gossiping, either at brunch, at the country club, or just on the phone. You also have to do occasional charity work to make it appear that you care about the welfare of others.
However, you do this in ways that display wealth. You hold charity balls and ask for $10,000 a plate. You pay for the addition of a new wing of the local hospital. People eat that shit up.”
“If your mom hates people from meager backgrounds, how did your parents ever meet?” I asked.
“He had money by the time they were introduced. If they had met just a few months earlier, they would have never gotten together.”
“But they love each other despite the money, right?”
“My dad adores my mom. I think he fears her, too. He can’t say no to her about anything. It’s borderline abuse, the way she controls him. She once let it slip that she believed marriage was a way for rich women to continue living their current lifestyle. I’m not convinced that she loves him in a conventional way. Arranged marriages appeal to her. Love is not a good enough reason to devote your life to someone. There must be money involved.”
“So what do you think about marriage?” I asked.
“I try not to think about it at all,” she joked. “But I definitely don’t share the same viewpoint.”
“That’s a relief,” I said. “I don’t want to get married until I’m sure it’s right.”
Finally, someone got it. I never understood why so many girls stressed out about finding future husbands in college. College was for preparing yourself for life success; not hitching yourself to a man’s future.
“I’m an only child, but I wish I weren’t,” she continued. “All of the focus has always been on me. It would have been nice to have another sibling to take some of the heat off of me.”
“Well, you don’t have any siblings that you’re aware of,” I joked.
“I kind of wish I did. Maybe we would have been able to fight back against my mom. She never let me do anything I wanted to do as a child,” she frowned.
“What did you want to do?” I asked.
“More than anything, I wanted to play sports.”
“Really?” I knew a lot of cheerleaders. Most were not into athletics.
“My mother said it was too dangerous, but she meant that she didn’t want me to ruin my good looks in any way. If I came home from elementary school with dirt on my clothes or messy hair, she would throw a fit. Any bruise or scrape was covered with her makeup so I never looked anything less than perfect.”
“She put makeup on you as a child?” That seemed pretty messed up.
“Yeah, you should have seen me when she entered me in pageants. I hated having to spend hours getting ready, just to walk around the stage and do a stupid dance. I wanted to play soccer and volleyball like the other girls, but she wouldn’t allow that kind of ‘rough play’.”
“So you didn’t play any sports at all?” The concept seemed foreign to me. Sports were my life.
“I did gymnastics to help my cheerleading. My mom put me in golf and tennis lessons when I was younger. She only compromised on sports that would suit me in a country club setting. I begged her to play contact sports, but she always said no.”
I felt sorry for Alexa. I just assumed that having money meant that nothing was off limits to her.
Now it seemed like everything was off limits to her. Sports were my outlet and my escape from all of the crap I endured at home. It was my ticket out of my poor childhood.
My mom supported everything I wanted to do as long as we had
the money for it. Alexa had the money, but no support to do what she wanted.
“Sometimes, when my mom wasn’t around,” she said. “My nanny would throw around the football with me.”
I reached under my bed and picked up a slightly deflated football.
“Prove it,” I challenged.
She pulled back the covers, walked to the other side of the room, and threw a pretty solid spiral. I was impressed.
“I’m a bit rusty,” she defended herself.
“No, that was great,” I beamed.
“So yeah, I think my nanny took pity on me. She practically raised me. My mother used me as a trophy, parading me around at all the social events. She didn’t have much use for me otherwise.”
“That can’t possibly be true,” I interrupted. It was too horrible to be true.
“I don’t know anymore,” she sighed. “I just know that I wasn’t able to make many of my own decisions. She’s probably messed me up for life.”
“I don’t know about that,” I said. “You seem remarkably well-adjusted.”
“So do you,” she said. “But now my mom won’t let me choose who to marry. I’ve told you about Sebastian, right?”
“You told me some stuff, but I don’t know why your mom is so hung up on him. You would think that if you said no to him, she’d just find another suitor for you.”
“Well,” she continued. “My mom and his parents go way back. I think they had vacation homes in the same neighborhood. Once she heard that he was in law school, she wanted us to be together. Sebastian’s dad is a high-profile attorney, so naturally, he’ll join their firm. It’s a pretty sweet gig for him; all he has to do is scrape by in school and pass the bar exam and he’s at one of the nation’s top law firms.”
“Yeah,” I interrupted. “But what if he’s a terrible lawyer? Your mom has to account for the chance that he could be a dud.”
“Oh, it doesn’t even matter. He’s good for his money, and my mom knows it.”
“What’s this guy even like?” I shouldn’t be asking, but I was curious. I wanted to hear that he was terrible and she would never consider him.
Object Me: A Bad Boy Lawyer Romance Page 22
