a client was Becky.
"Why?"
"He's
changing."
"How?"
"He's
becoming a star. It's changing him. His attitude. About himself. And girls.
Daddy, he's having sex with the cheerleaders."
"Which
one?"
"All
of them."
"Pretty
cool, huh, Dad?"
Becky
had left, and William held a hand out for a high-five. Frank slapped his son's
hand then they sat on opposite sides of Frank's desk. William was speaking of
the recruiting letters, not sex with cheerleaders. He was drinking a protein
shake.
"Sure,
son, it's nice that all these coaches think you could play college ball."
"They
love me."
"No.
They don't love you, William. They need you. There's a difference. They're
paid millions to win football games, so they need players like you to keep
their jobs. They need you, but they don't love you. Your family loves you,
win or lose. And we'll love you even if you throw five interceptions."
"I've
never thrown five interceptions in one game."
"You
will."
Frank
leaned back in his chair.
"Son,
are you having sex?"
"Dad,
did you see they indicted Barry Bonds for lying under oath to a grand jury
about the steroids scandal?"
Barry
Bonds was the all-time major league baseball home run hitter. His agent's
message was on Frank's phone.
"Don't
change the subject."
"And
Marion Jones confessed to doping during the Olympics in Sydney when she won
five medals."
She
was facing prison time. Her agent's message was also on the phone.
"What
about you? Are you confessing?"
"To
doping?"
"To
sexing?"
"Is
that really a word?"
"It's
a question."
"Am
I under oath like Barry?"
"You're
under my roof."
They
regarded each other a long moment then William smiled and shrugged.
"What
can I say? The girls love William Tucker."
"You're
speaking of yourself in the third person now?"
Another shrug. "All the pros do."
"You're
not a pro. What's the girl's name?"
"What
girl?"
"The
girl you're having sex with."
"Which
one?"
"There's
more than one?"
"Not
at the same time."
"You've
had sex with more than one girl?"
"Dad,
it's no big deal. It's like texting. Bobby said—"
"Bobby
your center?"
"Yeah."
"You're
taking advice from an offensive lineman?"
"He's
a senior."
"That
doesn't mean he's smart. Son, there are laws. If you have sex with younger
girls—"
"They're
older."
"How
old?"
"Juniors,
seniors, college …"
"You're
having sex with college girls?"
"They
come home for the weekend."
His
son had stopped asking sex questions at the dinner table a few months before.
Now Frank knew why: he was getting his questions answered by older girls.
Frank decided that he had better ask a few questions of his own.
"William,
you know if you impregnate a girl and she has the baby, you're responsible for
child support for eighteen years?"
"All the girls are on the pill."
"You
can still contract a sexually transmitted disease, like AIDS."
"They're
good girls."
"Are
you using condoms?"
"Seriously?"
"Testosterone
and stupidity strike again."
"Huh?"
"Your
body is acting like a man, but your brain is thinking like a boy."
"What?"
"You're
doing something stupid. You're playing Russian roulette with your life. I
want you to stop."
"Playing
Russian roulette?"
"Having
sex."
William
regarded Frank as if he had just said, "Stop having protein shakes."
"No
way. Look, Dad, I know sex was a big deal back when you were my age, but it's
not today. It's just a part of dating—go to the movie, get a burger, have
sex. Everyone does it." He smiled his movie star smile. "Sex is
good for William Tucker."
Frank
sighed. How could he protect his son from himself?
"Then
at least wear a condom."
Sex
used to be good for Frank Tucker. His first thought was that he was jealous of
his sixteen-year-old son. His second thought was that he should grill his son
a thick steak—he couldn't keep that kind of sex life up on protein shakes
alone. But he quickly admonished himself for employing a double standard with
his children. If Becky were having sex with several different
"Why?"
"He's
changing."
"How?"
"He's
becoming a star. It's changing him. His attitude. About himself. And girls.
Daddy, he's having sex with the cheerleaders."
"Which
one?"
"All
of them."
"Pretty
cool, huh, Dad?"
Becky
had left, and William held a hand out for a high-five. Frank slapped his son's
hand then they sat on opposite sides of Frank's desk. William was speaking of
the recruiting letters, not sex with cheerleaders. He was drinking a protein
shake.
"Sure,
son, it's nice that all these coaches think you could play college ball."
"They
love me."
"No.
They don't love you, William. They need you. There's a difference. They're
paid millions to win football games, so they need players like you to keep
their jobs. They need you, but they don't love you. Your family loves you,
win or lose. And we'll love you even if you throw five interceptions."
"I've
never thrown five interceptions in one game."
"You
will."
Frank
leaned back in his chair.
"Son,
are you having sex?"
"Dad,
did you see they indicted Barry Bonds for lying under oath to a grand jury
about the steroids scandal?"
Barry
Bonds was the all-time major league baseball home run hitter. His agent's
message was on Frank's phone.
"Don't
change the subject."
"And
Marion Jones confessed to doping during the Olympics in Sydney when she won
five medals."
She
was facing prison time. Her agent's message was also on the phone.
"What
about you? Are you confessing?"
"To
doping?"
"To
sexing?"
"Is
that really a word?"
"It's
a question."
"Am
I under oath like Barry?"
"You're
under my roof."
They
regarded each other a long moment then William smiled and shrugged.
"What
can I say? The girls love William Tucker."
"You're
speaking of yourself in the third person now?"
Another shrug. "All the pros do."
"You're
not a pro. What's the girl's name?"
"What
girl?"
"The
girl you're having sex with."
"Which
one?"
"There's
more than one?"
"Not
at the same time."
"You've
had sex with more than one girl?"
"Dad,
it's no big deal. It's like texting. Bobby said—"
"Bobby
your center?"
"Yeah."
"You're
taking advice from an offensive lineman?"
"He's
a senior."
"That
doesn't mean he's smart. Son, there are laws. If you have sex with younger
girls—"
"They're
older."
"How
old?"
"Juniors,
seniors, college …"
"You're
having sex with college girls?"
"They
come home for the weekend."
His
son had stopped asking sex questions at the dinner table a few months before.
Now Frank knew why: he was getting his questions answered by older girls.
Frank decided that he had better ask a few questions of his own.
"William,
you know if you impregnate a girl and she has the baby, you're responsible for
child support for eighteen years?"
"All the girls are on the pill."
"You
can still contract a sexually transmitted disease, like AIDS."
"They're
good girls."
"Are
you using condoms?"
"Seriously?"
"Testosterone
and stupidity strike again."
"Huh?"
"Your
body is acting like a man, but your brain is thinking like a boy."
"What?"
"You're
doing something stupid. You're playing Russian roulette with your life. I
want you to stop."
"Playing
Russian roulette?"
"Having
sex."
William
regarded Frank as if he had just said, "Stop having protein shakes."
"No
way. Look, Dad, I know sex was a big deal back when you were my age, but it's
not today. It's just a part of dating—go to the movie, get a burger, have
sex. Everyone does it." He smiled his movie star smile. "Sex is
good for William Tucker."
Frank
sighed. How could he protect his son from himself?
"Then
at least wear a condom."
Sex
used to be good for Frank Tucker. His first thought was that he was jealous of
his sixteen-year-old son. His second thought was that he should grill his son
a thick steak—he couldn't keep that kind of sex life up on protein shakes
alone. But he quickly admonished himself for employing a double standard with
his children. If Becky were having sex with several different
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