“Fine. Be that way.” I paused at the door with my backpack slung over one shoulder. “Don’t forget, I’m staying in Long Island until Saturday night. I’m working Saturday instead of Wednesday so I can go to fan day.” I gave him another withering glare. “If you need anything—”
“Stop mothering me.” My dad leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his flannel shirt, and tattoos peeking out from the rolled-up sleeves. “Noah, are you sure you want to keep this job?”
The question caught me off guard. I’d been working for Gavin for over a month now, and this was the first time my father had shown outright skepticism about it. Although, maybe that wasn’t true. His unease had been palpable when he’d seen my first paycheck. After that, I’d asked for my pay to be—direct-deposited into my bank account. Other than my father’s disbelief and worry, it made me feel better than Gavin just . . . handing me a check. And I didn’t even want to analyze why that would bother me.
“I hated it at first, but I’m finally in a rhythm. I got to know Gavin a little better, and we get along now. We have things in common. Besides, it’s only for another few months.”
“A lot can happen in a few months,” he said. “You know I wouldn’t discourage you from doing something that’s going to earn you so much money, but this is Gavin Brawley. He’s violent.”
I sighed and let my backpack drop to the floor at my feet. “Dad—”
“Don’t you make that face at me, boy. Have you forgotten why he’s under house arrest?”
“No. He got in a fight with some guy at a club.”
“Have you seen the video?”
“Dad, please—”
He had his phone in my face before I could protest. A spike of irritation swelled inside of me, but I couldn’t bring myself to walk out when his brow was set in such a serious frown. Dad, the sports enthusiast, was genuinely concerned about me living with Gavin. It was only that thought that caused me to watch the video.
Someone who’d clearly been parked, or who’d been sitting in traffic, had captured the video from the point when Gavin’s Range Rover had nearly run the Nissan off the road. That alone made my stomach churn, but what happened next left me on edge. Gavin jumped out of the vehicle, and what I could see of his face was transformed by anger. Maybe it was because I’d never watched any of his games, but for all that I’d become accustomed to his intensity . . . what I saw daily had nothing on this. He looked like another person. Someone frightening.
In the tiny video, Gavin charged from his Rover to the Nissan. He proceeded to yank the driver’s door open and wrench the driver out. There was a brief exchange of snarled words, but the meaning was lost to the wind and the surrounding traffic. What was apparent was that the other guy was talking a lot of shit, if I judged by the speed of his lips and the scowl on his face.
Shouted words flew back and forth, but all I could hear was the guy saying “—sell it to someone who wants to pay,” right before Gavin pushed him against the side of the car. The guy responded by punching Gavin with flailing fists multiple times. It was a mistake. Gavin, who was contorted by such anger that I couldn’t imagine what the guy had done to trigger it, drew blood with a single hit. If I judged by the end of the video, when Gavin pinned the guy with one hand and watched him fumble with his phone, I’d guess the guy had taken a picture of something damning.
“Jesus,” I said. “Does anyone have any idea what was on the phone?”
“No. They didn’t say.”
“Odd.” I frowned. “If he was trying to blackmail Gavin, you’d think he’d have brought it up.”
“Yeah, but either way, you can see he’s dangerous. Who knows how he could fly off the handle? Fucking bully.”
“Dad, the guy hit him first. Multiple times. The way everyone talks about it, it’s like he mauled the dude.”
“He’s a professional athlete!”
“And he was being attacked! I’m not saying he should have fought, or that he should have chased the guy down, but I’m also not gonna say he was fully in the wrong until I know the entire story.” I grabbed my backpack again. “I’m going to ask him about it.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Noah.”
“Well, I’m not going to just come up with theories on my own. I don’t know Gavin very well, but the idea of him randomly charging after some guy just for kicks literally makes zero sense. There was something more going on there. I’m not going to crucify him based on one side of a story devised by people who already hate him. There’s more to him than that.”
Dad’s face had gone from protective to dawning with horror. “Noah.”
“What, Dad? I have to go.”
I stepped out the door, but he grabbed my arm. “Don’t do this again.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
His face colored. “You damn well know exactly what I’m talking about. Don’t do this to yourself again. The same thing that happened with that scumbag you worked for last time—”
“Oh my God. Seriously?”
“Yes,” he said, voice rising. “Seriously. This is always what happens. You see something soft and admirable in the men you work for—”
“Dad, there is nothing soft about Gavin Brawley.”
“Oh, really? Then explain why you’ve been talking so much about the look on his face when he talked about that kid? Or his past in the foster system.” When I grew quiet and looked away, my father’s voice grew urgent. “I know you. You fall for two types—people who either have the same passion for change as you do, or people with hard stories and rough pasts. And I will tell you right now, young man—Gavin isn’t that person. His past shouldn’t make you forget what he is. You can’t change him or save him, and I hope you’re not going to fall into this same hole again!”
By the time he finished his rant, I wanted to fall into a pit and never come out. And not one with Gavin Brawley. One that would hide the humiliation of realizing all my past relationships, the ones I’d tried so hard to keep private because I’d never wanted my parents involved in my love life, had clearly been analyzed and discussed.
“Have you been talking to Mom about me?”
“Yes,” he said, unapologetic. “And we’re both concerned.”
“Nice. That’s really great, Dad.” I pulled away and stepped out the door. “Well, you can tell her not to worry. Gavin Brawley is a heterosexual football player with zero interest in a broke gay boy from Queens.”
“That doesn’t change you getting invested in—”
“I’m done. See you on the weekend, Dad. I’ll call you later.”