Page 5

Chapter 5

The House Rules

Bex

“H ey.” I turn to look at my brother, relieved that I’m no longer alone with Keene and his psychotic cat.

“Hey sis,” Luke smiles. “Did you sleep ok?”

I nod. “Yes, thank you. Your bed is very comfortable.”

Luke lifts a large paper bag. “I got breakfast for everyone. Sarge, are you joining me and Bex?”

To my relief, Keene shakes his head. “I was about to go out for a run. I like running on campus on the weekend, before everyone gets up. It’s peaceful. Do you mind if I warm up my breakfast when I come back?”

Luke slaps his teammate on the back, and it doesn’t go unnoticed that the demonic cat in Keene’s arms doesn’t as much as open her eyes at the contact. “That’s fine. Since we don’t have practice today, I bet Connor and Jamie aren’t going to wake up anytime soon. They’re going to warm theirs up too. Bex and I haven’t seen each other in a while. We’re going to catch up, since it’s just the two of us for breakfast.”

“Thank you, Captain. I’m going to put Poonani in my room, so she doesn’t get tempted to eat your sister’s goldfish.” Keene says, before walking away.

Luke makes himself a coffee and offers me one too. “Still not much of a coffee fan?” he chuckles when I decline his offer. “Let me get you a soda, and we can sit outside. It’s nice out here, not as hot as it’s in the summer, but still warm enough that we can sit outside.”

When we’re settled at the small table on the deck, Luke offers me a breakfast sandwich and a large portion of mini hash browns.

My mouth waters instantly at the smell of the crispy fried potato bites.

I hesitate for a second, before eventually popping one into my mouth.

Luke doesn’t miss that fact. “You don’t like them anymore? Those used to be your favorite.”

My eyes well up with tears. Luke is so thoughtful, and I don’t deserve his kindness.

“He didn’t allow me to eat them anymore. He put me on a diet. Lean protein only, mostly fish. No processed or fried foods, little to no sugar.”

My brother doesn’t need to ask who is “He.”

“I was hoping his problem was just with me. Because of my “lifestyle” like he insisted on calling it. But it sounds like his controlling behavior wasn’t just toward me.” His tone is in equal parts sad and bitter. “I guess I should have suspected that wasn’t the case when you stopped answering my calls and blocked me from all your social media?”

I bite the inside of my cheek so hard that the metallic taste of blood fills my mouth. “Controlling doesn’t even start covering Dad’s behavior in the past four years. I don’t even know how to start apologizing to you, Luke.”

He covers my hand with his much larger one on the table. “Start by telling me what happened and why you cut off all contact with me. That really hurt.”

I exhale a shuddering breath. “I—I don’t even know, Luke. When it started, I didn’t even realize what his plan was until I was in so deep that there was no way out.”

Luke doesn’t utter a word, keeping his eyes on me. The fact that he isn’t yelling at me doesn’t mean he isn’t angry. I know I would be if the roles were reversed. He’s just waiting for me to explain, but doesn’t ask any questions.

There’s no other way to do this, but to start from the beginning.

“I guess he changed after Mom died and we moved to Bridgeport.” I begin. “I hope you know that you being gay, or bi, or pan, or whatever you identify with, doesn’t change how much I love you, Luke. Not telling you that is the first thing I have to apologize for on a long list. When you came out, I should have supported you.”

“Came out?” Luke snorts. “That’s putting it nicely. I guess the only slack I can cut Dad for how he treated me is that he found out in the worst way possible. Finding me on my knees in front of my high school team captain isn’t the best way to learn that your son likes boys.”

My brother has the biggest heart in the world. “Even if Dad was shocked, he shouldn’t have reacted the way he did.”

This time, Luke’s tone is bitter. “Right. I guess at least he gave me a choice. Conversion therapy, or leave his house and consider myself cut off. Not only financially. If I remember correctly, he said that if I left, I was going to be dead to my family.”

I remember that too. “I should have fought for you. It’s one of my biggest regrets. And there are very few things I don’t regret about the last four years.”

Our hands are still joined on the table, and Luke gives mine a squeeze. “You tried, Bex. You spoke in my defense.”

My voice comes out strangled by the tears that are burning in my throat. “I should have tried harder.”

Luke shakes his head. “And do what? Be homeless together? I was actually relieved that I only had to worry about myself, babe. I was lucky enough to have gotten a full ride to play hockey here in Star Cove. So I only had the few months until graduation, and the summer to worry about. Having you with me would have made everything twice as hard.”

He’s right. I know he is. “Thank goodness your high school coach took you in until graduation. But I was still worried about you, and I missed you.”

“I missed you too. And I was worried sick about you being left alone with him.” Luke whispers.

Our food is going cold, but after the first moment of excitement at the thought of eating hash browns again, my appetite is totally vanished. “Yeah, I was pretty mad at him. For the first few months, though, things were sort of normal. Or as normal as they could be without you. Dad was busy with finals at the college, and I was studying for my own finals. I barely even saw him aside from family dinner.”

Luke tilts his head. And I know there’s a question coming. “So it was just the two of you? Did he spend every dinner praying for me to quit living in sin and turning straight? Or did he pray for my soul as if I was dead?”

“No.” I don’t miss the surprise mixed with hurt in his eyes. “He really acted if you had never existed. And it was just the two of us at first, but that changed pretty quickly. After spring break, the head of Bridgeport’s athletic department retired. Dad was offered the position. That was the beginning of his rise to power.”

My brother looks confused. “I don’t understand how he could be selected as head of the athletic department. He’s a philosophy professor, for crying out loud.”

The next tidbit of information is particularly hard on him. “He took credit for your success. When your high school team won the state championship, he would tell anyone who listened that you were so good at hockey because of him. Then you got selected to play in the under eighteen USA team and that sealed the deal with the Dean.”

Luke runs a hand through his hair, his shock and fury clearly showing on his face. “So I wasn’t good enough to be his son because of my sexuality, but I was perfect to help him further his career?”

I understand how he feels. I didn’t realize how Dad had been using me the same way until very recently. “I’m not defending him, but he didn’t completely lie.”

His scowl deepens. “Yeah. He did nurture my talent and encouraged my passion for hockey from the beginning. I have to give him that. Believe me, that’s something I would love to forget. Knowing that I owe him my career, at least in part, almost taints everything I’ve achieved.”

It’s my turn to comfort him. “That might be true. You might have succeeded thanks to his support, both financial and in terms of the time he spent driving you to practices and games. But you put in the hard work. You’re the one who gave his blood, sweat and tears to get where you are. Don’t you ever forget that.”

Luke nods. “Thank you for saying that, Bex. So how did he go from head of the athletic department of a college that has a number of division one teams, to a talent agency mogul?”

Our father is much more than that. I didn’t realize it until I snapped out of his brain-washing and saw that he had taken complete control of my life. And the lives of every single one of his clients.

“Six months after he was appointed to head the athletic department, the Dean of students died. It was unexpected and a shock to the entire school. During his short tenure as head of the athletic department, he had managed to recruit some of the top athletes in the country. So every team we had was leading their leagues at that point.”

Luke’s tone is sour, and I don’t blame him. “Yeah, I remember. Three years ago, Bridgeport was the school to beat pretty much in every sport. Hockey, football, basketball and baseball. They all won their respective championships that year. So did the swim team, the wrestling team, and the dance team. Even though they didn’t win every single discipline again, Bridgeport is still the school to beat. The number of championship victories since Dad took over is still unprecedented. How did he do that?”

There’s only one possible answer, and it’s more complex than anyone can imagine. “After that first year, he founded Pure Shine , his talent agency. He signed most of the top athletes in every team.”

His next question makes a lot of sense. “So he became the agent of his college’s top athletes. Is that even allowed? It feels like there would be some kind of conflict of interest there.”

I explain at the best of my ability. “Yes and no. As you know, the NCAA has been relaxing a lot of rules and now college athletes are allowed to have agents and, in some cases, to accept compensation for their skills and the use of their image. Bridgeport is privately owned and funded, and the school board actually encouraged him when they saw how much money his athletes were getting in terms of sponsorships and alumni donations. Dad also used social media to boost the fame of his athletes and make them legit social media stars.”

“That includes you.” The bitterness in Luke’s tone hurts, but I deserve it.

“It does. It did. The thing is, when each of us signed a contract to be represented by Pure Shine , we had no idea what we were getting into. There was a clause in the contract that basically gave him power over every choice we made. Most of the money we made with sponsorships and our monetized profiles were paid to the agency, not to us. He would pay the athletes and no one realized how little we really got paid because he took care of us while we were in school. He took ninety percent of what each of us made.”

Luke looks incredulous. “How could that happen?”

“He had someone very good draft those contracts, and the school didn’t have any objections because he used most of the income we generated not only to line his pockets but also to make the board members very rich and he did give the school top of the range facilities all around.”

Luke still doesn’t get how deep our father’s influence ran. “I still don’t understand what that has to do with you cutting me off.”

I close my eyes. The pain is almost too much to bear. “When I say that he took care of us, I mean he slowly took control of our lives. Not just the financial aspect. A year after you left, he built the Pure Shine House. It’s a legit palace right outside Bridgeport campus. He got all his clients to move in.”

“Like a frat house?” he asks.

It’s my turn to let out a bitter laugh. “No, more like a prison. It didn’t start that way, of course. At first, we were all excited. That place was unreal. Every room was en-suite. We had our own training facilities to practice outside team training sessions. There was an Olympic pool, a spa, a hot tub. A home theater and a state-of-the-art kitchen with a team of private chefs employed to prepare delicious meals, tailored to our specific needs. It was incredible, but…”

Luke catches my drift pretty quickly. “But there were strings attached.”

Shame twists my insides. “Yeah. It started with him reworking all our academic and training schedules to suit the needs of the agency. Then he began having a say in how we spent our free time. Hanging out with anyone outside the house was frowned upon and actively discouraged. That started to include family. He called it ‘cutting out the fat. ’ He considered every outside contact a distraction from our real purpose, from our calling.”

Luke lets out a surprised whistle. “Is that why you stopped talking to me and taking my calls?”

I battle with the tears that have been pushing to fall since we sat down outside. If I cry now, I’m not going to be able to tell him what happened. “Yeah. But it became much worse than that.”

Bex

Bridgeport, two years ago.

The chime signaling a mandatory assembly in the dining room sounds in the dance studio.

I grab a towel to dry my sweaty face and make my way to the meeting. We have ten minutes to show up when we’re called this way. Penalty for tardiness is a hefty fine, so there’s no time for a shower.

“What do you think this is about?” Aisha asks, as she comes out from the rehearsal studio next to mine.

“Beats me.” I shrug. “Hey Kev. I have an idea for our next video. I got a playlist that will make us go viral, if we put the right choreography to it.”

Kevin smiles. “Sounds good. You know I’m always excited to perform together.”

Aisha elbows me in the ribs, barely managing to stifle a giggle. “I told you he’s into you.” She whispers.

I roll my eyes, glad that Kevin’s strides are longer than ours and he’s out of earshot. “Whatever. I’m too busy to date right now. Between classes, the dance team, and work, I barely have the energy to drag myself into bed at night.”

She agrees with me. “That’s true. I just hope our workload will become lighter once the competition season is over.”

I would hate to burst her bubble, but I doubt it. If we aren’t competing with Bridgeport’s dance team, all our focus will turn on building our individual social media brands. That’s what brings in a lot of money, and I suspect that in the off season we’ll be asked to ramp that up.

The dining room is already crowded when we arrive. Between dancers and athletes, Pure Shine has about twenty-five elite clients who get to live in the house.

Dad sits at the head of the table. “Everyone settle down.”

The chatter dies down and people take their places. I lower myself in one of the numbered seats at the table, while Aisha goes to stand against the wall.

Our place during assemblies is determined by our number of followers on three main social media platforms. The seats with the lowest numbers, reserved for the people with the most followers, are closest to the head of the table. Our assigned seat shifts with the number of followers we earn. The people with fewer followers don’t get a seat around the table, but have to stand.

“First of all,” Dad begins. “I would like to congratulate Kurt Priestly for leading our school’s hockey team in the playoffs. Under his leadership, the Frozen Four final is within our reach for the second consecutive year.”

Kurt is sitting closest to Dad on the right-hand side. He’s a tall, muscular center who rarely smiles. Today is one of the rare exceptions, and I understand the reason after everyone’s applause dies down and Dad continues with his announcements.

“Not only is Kurt the top scorer in our conference this year, we have even more exciting news. I’ve been in negotiations with several NHL teams and we’re delighted to announce that we just signed a two-year deal with the Hartford Heroes.”

Another round of applause sounds all around the room.

“Does that mean that Kurt won’t be here for his junior year?” Tyler, the hockey team goalie, asks when the applause subsides.

“Not at all,” Dad answers on behalf of his protégé. “The agreement with the Heroes is that Kurt will move to Hartford after graduation.”

Everyone is excited by the news.

Dad has quickly become one of the top sport agents in the country. Most of his athletes don’t even have to wait for the draft to be signed by top tier professional teams. Dancers usually aspire to join ballet or dance companies, but Pure Shine is putting together its own dance company. Dad plans to keep the most talented dancers in his roster in-house.

“All right, all right.” Dad taps his hand on the table. “That wasn’t the only reason why I called this assembly. I have some very exciting news. As you all know, Pure Shine is always in touch with a number of potential sponsors and patrons. I have a surprise for all of you. Helga, come on in.”

Dad’s secretary comes into the dining room carrying a wicker basket full of rectangular boxes a little bigger than a deck of cards.

“I secured a sponsorship with one of the biggest cell phone manufacturers in the world. And one of the perks of this deal is that each of you, as Pure Shine ’s elite clients, receives their newest smartphone. This model doesn’t come out until next year, I believe.”

The news cause even more excitement than Kurt’s NHL contract.

“Thank you, Helga.” I say when she offers me one of the boxes in the basket. The box has my name on it in bright pink characters.

“You’re very welcome, Rebecca.” She smiles. “Please put your old phone in the basket.”

That is odd. “Why? Can’t we keep our old phones too? Like this one could be used for business and one could be a personal device.”

Helga’s smile fades. “The instructions I received are clear. Each person gets a new phone upon surrendering their old one to be recycled.”

I open my mouth to argue, but Dad intervenes.

“Rebecca, is there any problem?” his smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

Silence descends on the room, all eyes focusing on me. “No, I just thought we could keep our old phones. My whole life is in my phone.”

Dad’s tone is calm, but I can hear an edge to it. He’s never liked to be contradicted in public. “What would you do with a new phone but no contract? As an elite client, Pure Shine pays for your phone service. And as an incentive for all the hard work each of you does, your new phones come with a new contract with unlimited data. You don’t need to worry about losing any of the contents on your old phone. You all use the Wi-Fi in this house and the network is set up to automatically back up your phones and all your other devices every hour. Your new phones have already been programmed with all your content.”

I deposit my old phone in the basket, picking up the new one with trembling fingers.

A feeling of unease settles in the pit of my stomach. Does that mean that he gets access to the content of our devices? To our texts and emails? If the content is backed up to the cloud in a network he has the password to, what would stop him from potentially spying on each of us?

When Dad offered me and all his elite clients a room in the Pure Shine house, I felt elated. Chosen.

It didn’t occur to me to question anything when I signed the new contract that came with our new living quarters. I mean, it’s my father we’re talking about, right? He might be old-fashioned in some of his views, and he has a strong personality, but I didn’t even think about there being any downside to moving into this mansion. I trusted him to look after my best interests. The last thing I would have thought is that when I was given the Wi-Fi password, that would open a door for him to see everything I do.

Maybe I’m overthinking this.

As I look around the room, I realize that I’m the only one who was hesitant to take the new phone; everyone else looks excited about having this model before release and grateful to Dad for the opportunity.

“Dinner will be served in one hour,” Dad reminds us. “You’re all dismissed. Go back to your work, or play with your new phones. See you at dinner.”

I rise from my chair, looking forward to a much needed shower, but he stops me in my tracks.

“Bex, can I have a word with you?”

Fuck. Dad is smiling, but I know it’s for everyone else’s benefit because it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“What was that?” he asks when Helga closes the door behind her, leaving us alone.

“Sorry, Dad, I—” I don’t know what to say. I’m not really sorry. I don’t like that he can access all our private messages and conversations. But I know that speaking my mind won’t change his actions. All I’m going to get is probably a fine and a long lecture.

“I always do what’s best for each of my clients.” He bites out, his tone hard. “Both academically and when it comes to your chosen sport or artistic career.”

I hang my head. “I know, I ? —”

“That sometimes might mean accessing personal stuff, and you all signed contracts with a clause that allowed me to do so when you moved in. I would only utilise that prerogative in extreme cases, of course. Do you have any idea how it looks to have my own daughter question my actions and my integrity when no one else raised any concerns?”

He isn’t wrong that it might look bad. But at the same time, I still think that having access to everything we do through our electronic devices is too invasive.

When I stay quiet, Dad takes it as a sign of agreement. “We are more than just agent and clients. Pure Shine ’s elite clients are like a big family, and as the head of that family, I set the direction and the standards you all need to follow to succeed in your fields. You should take people like Kurt as the perfect example of how far you’re going to go if you follow my lead without question. Kurt got a very lucrative contract with the NHL team of his dreams, and he didn’t even have to wait for the draft. He won’t be sent to a farm team either. I negotiated a clause that bounds the Heroes to give him a certain amount of ice time during his rookie season, or they’ll lose the right to extend him and he’ll become a free agent. I predict that under my guidance, Kurt will win a Stanley Cup within two years of his debut on NHL ice.”

Kurt is the apple of Dad’s eye right now because his contract must have meant a huge commission for Dad as his agent.

I know I should keep my mouth shut, but the words tumble out before I can think better of it. “That’s amazing, Dad. But Kurt isn’t the only one with a NHL contract. I spoke to Luke last night. He got signed by a NHL team in New York. He’s staying in school like Kurt, but he’s going to head to New York after graduation.”

The fact that Dad isn’t surprised by the news should set off alarm bells in my head. I can’t help but wonder if he knows because he keeps tabs on his son, despite pretending he doesn’t exist, or if he knows because he’s spying on my conversations.

“Sit down, Bex.” He orders.

His tone is ice cold, and I obey without even realizing it until my ass hits the chair.

“Your brother made this choice to leave his family in favor of his lifestyle two years ago.”

I shake my head. “Dad, I know how you feel about Luke. But he’s still your son. Being gay isn’t a choice, he ? —”

“He’s a deviant, an abomination. HE ISN’T MY SON! He made his choice when I offered him the help he needed to fix his problem, but he slapped the hand I extended to him. As far as I’m concerned, I have only one child. And I would do you a disservice if I watched you go down a similar path of self-destruction.”

What is he talking about? “Dad, being gay isn’t a disease, and it isn’t contagious. Hanging out with Luke won’t change my sexuality.”

He flinches at the word “sexuality.” He has always been uncomfortable with these kinds of topics and when Mom was alive, she was in charge of the birds and the bees’ subject.

However, he doesn’t focus on the last thing I just said. “Hanging out? Have you been seeing your brother behind my back?”

His gaze is laser sharp, and I squirm in my seat, my palms suddenly clammy.

“Rebecca,” he uses my full name. That’s never a good sign. “When I cast your brother out of our lives, I did it to protect you. Success comes to those who keep a pure heart and body. If you want to make it as a dancer in today’s world, you need to be flawless inside and out. Success is inextricably tied to fame, and social media is a fundamental part of that journey.”

I’ve heard this before. He called his agency Pure Shine because he believes that the key to be truly successful is to be mentally and physically pure. That’s why our contracts included a “no sex clause.”

“Dad, I know. And I’ve been following your rules to the letter. What does Luke have to do with my career?”

Dad shakes his head. “Did you hear one word I just said? How are you going to keep your heart and soul intact and pure if you let your brother’s choices soil your spirit? And further more. You’ve come a long way since we moved into this house. Your following has grown exponentially. Do you know what’s keeping you from becoming a true viral sensation?”

I know it’s a rhetorical question, so I stay quiet, waiting for the answer.

“If you haven’t gotten it so far, we might need to introduce a new guideline for all my elite clients. Hard work and keeping a pure mind and body aren’t enough to make it big. Success requires total focus. That means cutting out the fat.”

“The fat?” I ask, confused.

He nods. “Anything unnecessary. We all surround ourselves with things and people who don’t add any real value to our lives. With their questionable moral choices, their debauched way of life, with their mere presence, they’re nothing but static noise. A distraction from your true self. Cut out the fat, Rebecca. Anyone outside this house is an obstacle on your path to success.”

He can’t expect me to cut Luke out of my life. “But he’s my brother.”

His laugh hurts more than if he had physically hit me. “He stopped being your brother when he chose to live an impure life over me. Over you. Family is often the biggest obstacle to reaching our full potential. From now on, every occupant of this house will be asked to cut out the fat.”

Dad has always had strong beliefs and a tendency to give orders.

This, however, is crazy. “You can’t ask everyone to cut out their families and friends.”

His expression hardens. “All your contracts state that you’re bound to the house rules without exception. Penalty for breaking any of those rules is the immediate eviction from this house and the exclusion from the elite program.”

This time I can’t bite my tongue. “Maybe this isn’t the worst thing that can happen. You dictate a lot of things in mine and in your elite clients’ lives. But this is too much, Dad. People won’t follow this rule.”

It would make sense if he yelled. But his reaction surprises me. He smiles.

“Each person who signed the elite contract did so by their own free will. And no one is a prisoner in this house.”

He points to the door, and I rise from my chair, thinking he’s dismissing me.

“Sit.” He snaps. “You, and every other client, can leave if you don’t like my rules. But of course that will trigger clause 11-B.”

I have no idea what he’s talking about. “Come again?”

“You’ve all agreed to be paid into a high interest account with the option to withdraw interest once a year when it’s accrued.” He smiles.

“Yeah, it makes sense. Those accounts offer the highest interest rate on the market.” That results in the amounts being paid into our personal accounts being minimal, especially after we pay our rent and board in this house and the situation gets worse if we get fined for breaking a rule, or losing followers. But agreeing to those conditions is a no brainer. We live in luxury and we don’t really need to spend out of pocket. Our college tuition is comped because of the prestige we bring to Bridgeport.

“Do you know what’s in clause 11-B, Rebecca?” Dad’s smile widens. “Anyone who is evicted from the house for breaking the rules or leaves voluntarily, forfeits the entirety of the sums in their high interest account. Furthermore, leaving voids your agency contract. And triggers an automatic expulsion from Bridgeport, since each of you is a student here.”

I stand up, feeling utterly disgusted. “Fine. We might forfeit what we earned so far, but if we’re free from the agency, then what we earn from the moment we leave should be paid into our personal accounts, right?”

Dad’s laugh seems to indulge I’m wrong. “Every sponsorship, every endorsement, every deal you signed is between Pure Shine and the counterpart. You’re then appointed by me.”

That can’t be possible. “So every sponsor signs a contract with the agency?”

Dad’s tone is triumphant. “You’re correct. Even the Heroes agreed to it, because they have the guarantee that Kurt will be disciplined and not cause any trouble for his coaches. They don’t really care who they pay, as long as the contract is fulfilled.”

Fuck. We are prisoners unless we follow Dad’s crazy rules.

He has us all by the balls, and he knows it. “Cut the fat, Rebecca. Don’t make me say it again.”