Page 61 of Chasing Headlines
”And a half? What the hell does that—No, don't. I don't want to know. Seriously, never tell me anything about your dating life. You are forever that seven-year-old kid that became my responsibility the day Mom left.” Curt's voice softened to something wistful.
I sighed, but the pang that used to come . . . Wasn't there. “The first time.”
“Yeah, the first time.”
A green sign said Pinehurst Avenue was a quarter mile ahead. MapApp concurred. The silence from my brother's end of the phone made me wonder what he was thinking.
“I'm serious about scouting.”
“You have four years of college to be sure. If you're still hounding me like this when you're a senior, we can talk about it. But you know Dad?—”
I groaned. “Furston “No Baseball for Olivia” Milline? Yeah, we've met. A few times.”
“I know you think it's extreme, but he does have his reasons. I understand why, but it doesn't change anything, ok?”
I turned into the parking lot and steered into a space, making sure to park under one of the lights—since it was finally starting to get dark before ten o'clock at night.What would change? Did that make sense?
“Um, sure. Dad's 'only trying to protect me', yeah whatever. And the whole 'I'm an adult', thing doesn't seem to matter.” Anger sloshed in my abdomen, but this wasn't the time. “I wanted to talk about the exhibition game. Our roster's starting to take shape.” I checked my reflection in the mirror and realized my long-lasting lip color hadn't lasted all that long. I opened my bag and dug out my on-the-go essentials.
“I'm not going to get another call from Coach that you're underfoot again, am I?” Curt said in a tone that was somewhere between teasing and warning.
“Me? Underfoot?” I ran berry-red tinted lip balm over my lips. “Doesn't sound like me. Atall. You're clearly misinformed.” I eyed my hair in the tiny mirror. Pulled at some strands in an attempt to arrange my always-flat hair into 'messy chic'. “I'm an amazing asset to the team. Just ask . . . anyone.”Except Coop—because his attitude is total trash.
“Don't make a nuisance of yourself just because you have a last name that means something right now. It won't always be that way. And you're not entitled, Liv.”
Seriously?“Curt.” I drew out his name in exasperation. “Why do you act like I'm some kind of over-privileged pseudo-Kardashian pendejo?”
“I know you mean well, but you're a bull in a china shop when you get going. You don't think about how anyone else's life is impacted by your decisions. Even some of the things you say.”
What the hell? Another lecture? I opened the door and stepped out of my car—holding the phone away from my head.
“You go after what you want, which is admirable. But there are times when the collateral damage is . . . It just didn't have to be that way. If you'd stop, consider, maybe try to collaborate sometimes?”
I slammed the door to my car. “And when do men stop, consider, and collaborate? The ones at the top don't. They go after what they want, no holds barred. But because I'm a woman, I'm supposed to be nice about my ambitions?” I gestured at the phone like he could see me. Ugh. “And where would that get me when I have a father who tries to decide my entire future without my input and a brother who barely listens? No.”
“I try to listen. But, in my experience, the ones who are cutthroat don't get to claim victory for long.”
“You think I'm cutthroat?” I stopped in the middle of the parking lot and gaped at my phone.
“No, that's not what I'm—I just want you to stop and think from time to time. Or you're going to learn some of these lessons the hard way.”
I wanted to hang up. I needed to get to my interview with Dorotea.Is her name three syllables or four?The director lady had referred to her as Mrs. Schreiber.
“Just stop being in such a hurry to prove something. Enjoy this time. You'll never have another chance to be this young, and this free. After college, it's work and bills and adulting. I gotta wear pants every day.” Curt's big brother lecturing voice had long-passed 'endearing' and was edging close to 'on my last nerve'.
“Pants?” My stomach turned as the image of naked hairy man butt flashed through my brain. “Um, yes, please, always wear pants. Never take them off.”
He chuckled. “Used to walk around my dorm naked in the off season every Sunday. Just because I could. There's no naked days, now. Every day requires pants.”
And on that note . . .“I'm going to go, now. And be sick. Somewhere else. Oh, but I want the scouting report on Arizona.” I leaned against the full-length window next to the sliding entrance doors marked: Silverado Senior Living Center.
“I don't scout the team,” he said in a stern voice.
“You scout the playerson the team, and they're coded by university. You could run a roster report if you wanted.” I tried to make my voice sound sweet.
“I don't scout for Texas State Tech.”
Hmph. He wasn't going to budge. “What about twenty questions?”