got to be someone else's fault. They didn't fail. Someone made them
fail. Now we've got an entire generation of fucked-up narcissists 'cause their
mamas told them they're special."
"What's
your point, Sam?"
"My
point is, it's not bullshit with William. He really is special."
Sam
smoked his cigar.
"Game
program says William's six-three and one-ninety. That true?"
"It
is."
"Shoe
size?"
"Sixteen."
Sam
grunted in obvious admiration of William's shoe size.
"And
no tattoos."
"He's
afraid of needles."
Sam
chuckled. "Everyone's got something that'll make them sweat. I hate
snakes."
Another
puff on his cigar, which he then pointed at the field. At William.
"Time
he's a senior, he'll be six-five, two-twenty. He's number one on my list.
Hell, he's number one on every scout's list. He'll have his choice of
schools."
"We've
already gotten dozens of recruiting letters."
"You'll
get more."
Frank
sighed. "I wanted him to go to the Ivy League, but that's not what he
wants. His dream is to play D-One. So, what, do we go to the schools to meet
the coaches?"
"Nope.
They'll come to William. Like wise men to baby Jesus."
Sam
breathed out cigar smoke.
"William's
life is about to change, Frank. Big time."
Becky
Tucker stood down the sideline from her dad and a man smoking a cigar. She was
eighteen and a senior cheerleader. The last few months, as the team had won
more games and William had become the star quarterback, she had begun hearing
rumors at school about her brother and the head cheerleader. Rhonda. She was
a senior, too. She was not a virgin.
Not
even close.
The
thought of her little brother having sex with Rhonda made her want to throw
up. He might be as big as a man, but he was still just a boy. And sophomore
boys didn't need sex with senior girls. At the Academy, she had never heard of
anyone having sex. Of course, some kids had to be doing it, but those who were
didn't talk about it. At this school, that was all they talked about. Who was
screwing whom. (Although no one said "whom" at a public school.)
And they took cell phone pictures of their body parts and sexted each other.
Gross.
Becky
had never bonded with the other girls. They were different. They were not
girls. They were women. Sexually active women. Rhonda and the other
cheerleaders were huddled together down the sideline, waving to the players on
the sideline and then giggling. Gossiping. No doubt about who was screwing
whom. Rhonda waved at the players. At a player.
"William!"
Becky
saw her brother turn to Rhonda … and Rhonda blow him a kiss. That did it.
Becky's anger rose inside her until she felt as if she might explode. She
marched down the sideline and to the girls, put her hands on her hips, and
glared at Rhonda, the bitch.
"Are
you screwing my brother?"
Rhonda
smiled.
"Yes."
All
the girls had answered as one.
Chapter 12
"Daddy,
I'm worried about William."
The
next morning, Frank sat at his desk in the study on the backside of the house
looking out at the pool. The kids were at home with him; Liz had gone to the
funeral of Beverly Joiner, another socialite who had died of breast cancer.
Frank didn't know her or her husband, Dale. All he knew about them was what
Liz had told him: he was in oil and gas, and they lived in a
fifteen-thousand-square-foot home abutting the country club. On the phone were
a dozen messages from corporate lawyers in the biggest firms in Texas and two
dozen more from sports agents for top college and professional athletes who had
run afoul of the law and now sought Frank Tucker's representation. The Bradley
Todd case had put Frank in the national press again. His fame had grown. As
had his son's. On the desk sat a stack of letters addressed to William Tucker
from the head football coaches at UT, A&M, Notre Dame, LSU, Florida, USC, UCLA,
Ohio State, Alabama, and two dozen other Division I-A football schools in the
country. Recruiting a sophomore in high school. Sitting on the other side of
the desk as if she were
fail. Now we've got an entire generation of fucked-up narcissists 'cause their
mamas told them they're special."
"What's
your point, Sam?"
"My
point is, it's not bullshit with William. He really is special."
Sam
smoked his cigar.
"Game
program says William's six-three and one-ninety. That true?"
"It
is."
"Shoe
size?"
"Sixteen."
Sam
grunted in obvious admiration of William's shoe size.
"And
no tattoos."
"He's
afraid of needles."
Sam
chuckled. "Everyone's got something that'll make them sweat. I hate
snakes."
Another
puff on his cigar, which he then pointed at the field. At William.
"Time
he's a senior, he'll be six-five, two-twenty. He's number one on my list.
Hell, he's number one on every scout's list. He'll have his choice of
schools."
"We've
already gotten dozens of recruiting letters."
"You'll
get more."
Frank
sighed. "I wanted him to go to the Ivy League, but that's not what he
wants. His dream is to play D-One. So, what, do we go to the schools to meet
the coaches?"
"Nope.
They'll come to William. Like wise men to baby Jesus."
Sam
breathed out cigar smoke.
"William's
life is about to change, Frank. Big time."
Becky
Tucker stood down the sideline from her dad and a man smoking a cigar. She was
eighteen and a senior cheerleader. The last few months, as the team had won
more games and William had become the star quarterback, she had begun hearing
rumors at school about her brother and the head cheerleader. Rhonda. She was
a senior, too. She was not a virgin.
Not
even close.
The
thought of her little brother having sex with Rhonda made her want to throw
up. He might be as big as a man, but he was still just a boy. And sophomore
boys didn't need sex with senior girls. At the Academy, she had never heard of
anyone having sex. Of course, some kids had to be doing it, but those who were
didn't talk about it. At this school, that was all they talked about. Who was
screwing whom. (Although no one said "whom" at a public school.)
And they took cell phone pictures of their body parts and sexted each other.
Gross.
Becky
had never bonded with the other girls. They were different. They were not
girls. They were women. Sexually active women. Rhonda and the other
cheerleaders were huddled together down the sideline, waving to the players on
the sideline and then giggling. Gossiping. No doubt about who was screwing
whom. Rhonda waved at the players. At a player.
"William!"
Becky
saw her brother turn to Rhonda … and Rhonda blow him a kiss. That did it.
Becky's anger rose inside her until she felt as if she might explode. She
marched down the sideline and to the girls, put her hands on her hips, and
glared at Rhonda, the bitch.
"Are
you screwing my brother?"
Rhonda
smiled.
"Yes."
All
the girls had answered as one.
Chapter 12
"Daddy,
I'm worried about William."
The
next morning, Frank sat at his desk in the study on the backside of the house
looking out at the pool. The kids were at home with him; Liz had gone to the
funeral of Beverly Joiner, another socialite who had died of breast cancer.
Frank didn't know her or her husband, Dale. All he knew about them was what
Liz had told him: he was in oil and gas, and they lived in a
fifteen-thousand-square-foot home abutting the country club. On the phone were
a dozen messages from corporate lawyers in the biggest firms in Texas and two
dozen more from sports agents for top college and professional athletes who had
run afoul of the law and now sought Frank Tucker's representation. The Bradley
Todd case had put Frank in the national press again. His fame had grown. As
had his son's. On the desk sat a stack of letters addressed to William Tucker
from the head football coaches at UT, A&M, Notre Dame, LSU, Florida, USC, UCLA,
Ohio State, Alabama, and two dozen other Division I-A football schools in the
country. Recruiting a sophomore in high school. Sitting on the other side of
the desk as if she were
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