April 24, 2013
I didn’t know what to say other than to ask her to join me for lunch. Relief like I haven’t felt in a long time consumed me when she agreed. I told her that I had some fresh catch to toss on the grill for lunch and she texted back after a few minutes saying that she’d walk to my place. I offered her a ride but she declined; it’s clear to me that she loves the walk between here and there. I can understand that. I may not like it, at all—in fact, I fucking hate the idea of her walking alone—but I have no real claim over her. I can’t insist that she ride in the safety of my Jeep to and from the motel no more than I can insist she keep the mace in her purse. I could probably persuade her if I explained why she needs to be careful, but then again, if I told her that, I’d have to tell her everything and that worries me. I want to tell her things, but she’d take off if she knew the drama that’s attached to me and my family. Sadie’s the last person that needs any of that bullshit. I don’t like the thought of letting her go, but I know I’d lose any chance of remaining in her life is she knew. It’s a lose-lose situation for me. It’s just one more reason why I hate that I’m associated with Daniel McBride.
My dad’s name carries weight and all but guarantees that anyone associated with him gets thrust into the public eye. Being a part of Daniel McBride’s camp means you have to be on your best behavior, incidentally yet another reason why I don’t fit into my own family.
I’m a little hot headed, I always have been. I admit it. I’ve partied way too hard and made an ass of myself in public. I’ve been in fights that were caught on some asshole’s smartphone then loaded to the web. I’ve had more than one woman who I didn’t actually recall sleeping with show up claiming to be carrying the new heir to the McBride empire.
Fucking ridiculous.
The woman in question was always paid off. Whether her allegations were true or not was irrelevant. They were never true. Paternity tests proved that, but just the possibility of it being true is considered scandal enough to turn a negative light on our family and in turn, shove me further aside. The more I was in the spotlight, the more my family tried to keep me in the shadows.
It doesn’t look good when the Governor of Georgia has a son who’s known to fuck and philander nonstop. It didn’t matter that I was born and bred to please and for the most part I did just that. I was a goddamn puppet.
I started golfing before I could even swing a club because, as Dad said, “it’s a gentlemen’s sport,” and therefore it was shoved on me whether I actually enjoyed it or not. Thankfully, I was good at it. I went to the best private schools and did just about anything as long as my dad gave his signature nod of approval. It wasn’t until I’d graduated high school and had begun my freshmen year at the University of Georgia that shit hit the fan.
I guess it had been assumed that I would major in political science. I had no interest in that. I did everything they wanted my entire life, even at the expense of my childhood and my happiness, and the first time I refused, I was made out to be some kind of treasonous abomination who shouldn’t be seen or heard from until I was willing to comply. The more they pushed, the harder I fought, and the slow spiral kicked up a gear or two and I found myself in the fast lane to perpetual trouble.