Page 20

CHAPTER 20

ASHTON

"Where have you been?"

My father's deep voice echoes in the lobby of the basketball complex. What is he doing here?

I'm supposed to be meeting Marcus in ten minutes for practice, and I do not want my dad around when he gets here. We've been getting along, playing one-on-one and practicing nearly every day despite being well over our mandated eight hours, and I don't want to burst the bubble we've been in. I was hoping to talk to him about volunteering with Randall's crew again on Sunday. I never thought I'd enjoy manual labor this much, but I've never felt more fulfilled than I have the last two days volunteering alongside Marcus.

Ashton James II wouldn't understand that, though. All he'd see is Marcus bringing me down, taking my focus away from the things he thinks matters most.

I shouldn't be surprised to see him. As little interest as he's taken in my life or activities the past few years, he sees my senior year at CVU as a business opportunity. He wants me forging connections with the other Alpha Omega Psi guys, especially Anderson Hearst. Apparently, Anderson's father is part owner of a tech development company my father would like to trade hand jobs with, or whatever it is these important guys do when they're behind closed doors, sharing secrets on how to run the world by screwing people over. Which explains his sudden interest in my college career or basketball.

That, and he found out I've been getting friendly with the enemy. Or who he perceives to be the enemy. I don't know what his issue with Marcus is. Is it because of his father? Because his father died six years ago. Or is it because he knows there was something between us?

"Involving yourself with that boy will only drag you down."

"What are you doing here?"

"You've been ignoring my calls."

"I've been busy."

"With that boy?"

"What?" I deflect the question like I don't know who he's talking about. "I've been practicing and doing some volunteering."

"Volunteering?" He spits out, like the word is foreign or tastes bad.

"Yeah," I say, nonchalantly, as if it's a normal thing I've always done. "A nearby neighborhood got pretty wrecked during the storms last weekend. I helped pick up debris and repair houses?—”

"So the reason you missed out on your mother's dinner party is because you were busy picking up trash and rubbing elbows with parolees?"

"Why do you assume that anyone doing community service is a criminal?” Like I didn’t think the exact same thing. It really puts my attitude into perspective when I hear it come from my father’s mouth. I’m embarrassed. “Mostly I was here getting ready for the most important season in CVU's history, doing my best to make a good impression like you wanted me to."

"What I wanted is for you to make a good impression with the Hearsts, who were expecting to introduce their daughter to you."

Their daughter? Anderson's younger sister? I make a face. "Is she even old enough to drive?"

"No one suggested you get married tomorrow, son. Just meet the girl."

"I. Don't. Like. Girls. You know that, right?"

"What about Bianca? You liked her.”

“As a friend. She was an effective beard. One that you hit on when I brought her home to meet everyone, or did you forget how you made her so uncomfortable we had to leave early?”

“Ashton—” he growls.

"I just want to hear you acknowledge it, even once, that your son is gay. I'm not going to marry any of your rich friends' daughters. Ever."

"We've discussed this before, Ashton, and this isn't the time. We have a meeting with William Burke."

"Do you mean the discussions where you've insinuated that I marry someone of your choosing, then sleep with whomever I choose behind their backs? Because I don't want to be like you and mom."

"Keep your mother out of this, and keep your mouth shut. You will not embarrass me here," he hisses as Coach Burke emerges from the hallway.

"Mr. James, so nice to see you again!" The man lies through his teeth, kissing up to the almighty Ashton James II.

Goddamn I hate sharing a name with this asshole.

"William. We need to talk," my dad says, getting straight to business.

Coach's smile drops as he arranges his face into something more serious and professional. "Of course, right this way."

In Coach Burke's office, I sit in a seat opposite Coach, while my father looms behind me with his arms crossed.

"What can I do for you, Mr. James?"

"You can remove Marcus Vell from this team, effective immediately. I have tried to reason with you, but clearly you don't understand how serious I am. So I've taken things into my own hands to make sure you follow through."

"What?!" I shout incredulously, nearly knocking my chair over as I stand quickly. "Why?"

Coach Burke holds a hand out to calm me, also standing as my father passes him a folder of documents.

"That is a list of all the parents who make significant donations to this program. Donations that pay your salary as well as maintain this facility, which consequently was bought and paid for with donations from parents like me. Each of those parents has signed a petition requesting Vell's immediate dismissal or they will take action. If you don't want to lose that funding, you might want to consider our demands again, Mr. Burke."

Dad assumes his master-of-the-world posture, using his considerable height to intimidate Coach. To his credit, Coach Burke doesn't shrink in my father's shadow. He glances at the contents of the folder, then sets it on his desk.

"As I've explained to you, and the other parents who I'm sure continue to call at your behest, there is nothing I can legally do to have Marcus Vell removed from this team. Mr. Vell has a near-perfect grade point average, works hard, and has no history of misconduct that would warrant dismissal from the basketball program.”

Coach shoots a glance at me, and I know he’s not going to tell anyone about the fight. I nod, letting him know I understand not to say anything.

“Your concerns have been noted, and I've discussed the issue with the Dean. Terminating Mr. Vell's scholarship or removing him from the team could result in legal action that could not only cause more financial damage than you are threatening, but it would bring negative attention to the school. The media would have a field day, especially considering that Marcus Vell is one of our top players and is a public favorite. He’s a shoo-in for player of the year if he keeps playing as well as he is, and so is your son, by the way.” Don’t bother, he doesn’t care about that. “Do you really want to bring that kind of negative press to this establishment just because you don't like the kid?"

My father is gaping at Coach Burke, shocked that anyone would dare speak to him that way. "Public favorite or not, that scum tried to blackmail my son?—”

"He did not!"

He shoots a warning look at me, one I'm quite familiar with. It's the same look he's given me for as long as I can remember, anytime I've dared speak up and negate his lies in public. The last time he leveled me with that look was at the Pinecrest Court House, the day he shut down the case against Marcus. After he made everyone sign ironclad non-disclosures to make sure he couldn't be embarrassed by the video evidence of my involvement with Marcus, I begged him to help repair some of the damage Kent caused. Marcus had been dragged through the mud, his reputation ruined on top of the damage done to his scholarship prospects. But my father wouldn't budge, only leveled me with that same glare and promised he'd make things much worse if I didn't fall in line.

I can't let him do this, not again.

"Marcus never blackmailed me. He could have, but he never did. That surveillance evidence was found by his coach and was used to prove Marcus' innocence, nothing more. He never did anything wrong, but he took the blame for Kent Richard's bruised ego and lost everything." I look at Coach. "You can't kick him off the team, and you can't bench him, either. He didn't deserve it the first time, and he doesn't now."

"This is none of your concern, son," my father says, his voice deep and menacing.

"Marcus is a good person. Better than you'll ever be. I don't know what your issue with his dad was, or what your issue is with Marcus now, but this needs to stop. Just let him be, Dad. He didn't do anything to you, or to me. But you treat him like he's a threat to your empire. Why is that?"

“You don’t know anything, and you’ll ruin your future by allowing that boy?—”

“Quit calling him that. He has a name. And if you try to force Marcus off this team, you’ll be forcing me off as well. And I will not go quietly. I’ll make sure this gets as much press as it takes to make sure you can’t ruin his future.”

“You’d throw everything away to protect the son of a grifter?”

“I’d throw everything away to do the right thing for someone who has had to fight harder than anyone I know just to survive. Marcus isn’t the bad guy here, Dad. You are. And I won’t let you get away with this.”

"This discussion is over," my father says before turning on his heel and walking out of Coach's office.

"The Dean and I are in agreement on this, Mr. James. I'm sorry if that doesn't fit into the vision you had for your son's time with us. You should watch one of the games and see how well-matched Ashton and Marcus are as players. They'll take us to the championship this year, I'm sure of it."

"I hope your shot at the championship is worth it, William."

Mouthing my thanks to Coach, I follow after my father.

"Dad, wait." To my surprise, he stops walking, though he doesn't give me the respect of looking up. He straightens his suit and brushes off invisible lint. The cold shoulder was always how he showed his disappointment. It hurt me when I was younger, trying so desperately for his approval, but if I got anything out of his visit today, it was the confirmation that there's nothing to admire about my father. For all of his riches, his properties and investments and ambition, he is nothing more than a bully who steps on others to get to where he is. And I know, without a doubt in my mind, I don't want to be anything like him.

"Please drop this," I ask, bowing my head in humility. Not because I think he deserves my submission, but because I'll do whatever it takes to keep him from destroying Marcus.

"You never listen," he says softly.

My eyebrows furrow, confused by his complete change in demeanor. He’s almost somber, like he's exhausted by the whole ordeal. Maybe he is. Weary with disappointment in a son fighting against his own future success by allowing the likes of Marcus Vell to share the spotlight with him.

"People like him will never fit into our world."

"He doesn't want to fit into our world. He just wants to live his life. I don't understand why he threatens you so much."

"He'll just take advantage of you, Ashton. If he's his father's son at all, he'll hurt you."

"What does that mean? What happened between you two?"

"It doesn't matter. I won't allow it to happen to you."

There's a chill in the air as my father turns and walks away. My stomach churns. This isn't over.

If there's one thing I know about my father, it's that he always gets his way.