The Penalty Box - Teagan Kade Page 0,10
“What was that for?”
Poor Erin simply shakes her head in return. I don’t know how she does it, putting up with Peyton’s singular peculiarities.
Dad takes his plate from one of the staff and starts to interrogate Peyton on his move to the Patriots. “I hear you’re looking at a new apartment.”
“Erin’s going for a job with the New Yorker, which she’s going to get, because she’s a King, so we thought it might be handy to move closer to the action.”
“The New Yorker, hey?” nods Phoenix. “Nice.”
“Yeah,” Erin replies, “it’s a great opportunity. I really think I can bring something unique to the table over there.”
“Bummer Titus couldn’t be here,” muses Peyton. “Did you see his last game, Dad?”
“I did,” nods King Senior. “Still a bit of work to do on the outfield, but he’s coming along nicely.”
“He’s not a house you’re renovating,” Phoenix cuts in. I know there’s still a bit of animosity between him and our father over quitting basketball, though Dad’s slowly getting used to the idea—emphasis on ‘slowly’.
“You’re right. Boston’s lucky to have him,” Dad smiles. “And he has provided me with the most gorgeous granddaughter in the world.”
Phoenix hands his plate to Heather. “I think you mean Titus and Maya provided Amelie, or do you need a birds-and-bees refresher, dear father?”
“From you?” Dad laughs. “Son, it wasn’t until you were sixteen you realized babies didn’t come out of an asshole.”
“Jesus!” we all cry in unison.
“I’m trying to eat,” I continue, placing another forkful of the salt-baked barramundi into my mouth. Suffice to say, the master chefs have done it again. I almost want to hit up the soup kitchen for the food alone.
Dad’s right about one thing, though. Amelie, Titus and Maya’s daughter, is the cutest thing you’ve ever seen with her big cornflower-blue eyes and pinchable cheeks that turn even a human cinder block like Stone King into a marshmallow. She’s crazy for her grandfather—god knows why—with Alissa happy to undertake babysitting duties whenever Ti and Maya decide to grace us with their presence. But the curly hair? I’ve still got no idea where that came from.
The conversation turns to me. “And what are you up to, bonehead?” asks Peyton, “besides acting all secretive and shit. I know you. Something’s up.” He looks to Phoenix, who nods in agreement. “Spill.”
I place my utensils down and lean back in my chair looking around the table.
Erin eyes me. “Oh. My. God. You’re seeing someone.”
Phoenix narrows in as well. “You’re right. He is. I’d know that twinkle in his eye anywhere.”
“You guys know nothing,” I laugh, though it’s far from believable.
“Who is she?” asks Peyton, perfectly serious. “We’re going to find out one way or another.”
He’s not wrong on that point.
Ah, to hell with it. “Her name’s Linnea.”
Phoenix looks confused. “Her name’s sequential?” he asks, clearly thinking of ‘linear’.
I shake my head. “No, it’s Linnea. L-i-n-n-e-a.”
My father’s clued in. “Linnea, you say. What’s her last name?”
I pull in a deep breath before answering unsure where this is going to go. “Marsden. Linnea Marsden.”
He waves his knife at me. “Yes, yes, she plays basketball at the Academy, right? Center?”
I don’t want to give out too much information. “That’s right.”
“I’ve seen her play. She’s got a real future.” I expect him to put a dig in at Phoenix, but to my surprise he holds his tongue. “How did you meet?”
“At a party.”
“Tight with the information,” smiles Peyton, “but don’t worry, baby brother, we’ll do our own research.”
“If you’re looking for nudes, you’re going to be sorely disappointed,” I tell him.
Erin elbows him again in the side. “As will his wife.”
Peyton turns to her. “Babe, you give me everything I need. How could I want more?”
“Now I am the one gagging,” adds Phoenix from the other side of the table, Heather nodding in approval.
“Save it for New York,” she says. “We’re simple country folk here.”
“Speak for yourself,” says my father, smiling at Alissa, who seems unusually caught up in the lamb salad.
He returns his attention to me. “Has your girl decided on a WNBA team then?”
Damn it. I thought the subject might have dropped, but if it’s sports-related and my father’s around…
“Ah,” unsure how to answer, I reply, “I imagine she’s looking at her options.”
“When do we get to meet this lovely lady?” asks Erin.
I swallow hard because this is all becoming a bit too real. I’m surrounded by swooning, sickly lovebirds and it’s kind of making me nauseous. “It’s not that serious.”
“Yet,” adds Phoenix.
“We’re taking it slow, seeing what