telling me that you don’t even want to see him?”
I swallow back the lump that’s quickly forming in my throat. “Do we have to talk about this in every conversation we have? There are no excuses for what he did to Mom and us. And to just disappear the way he did…”
“Mom made it impossible for him to come near us. He would explain that to you if you’d just talk to him.”
My eyes snap to hers. “Monica, are you forgetting how we found out about his new family?”
She shakes her head adamantly. “I’ll never forget that day,” she whispers, and I can tell she’s still haunted by the past. “Never.” Then she sighs. “Look, I was angry with him for a long time too.”
“Not long enough. One conversation, and you already forgave the man.”
Monica slams her eyes shut as frustration colors her face. “Because he’s Dad, and he’s here, and he desperately wants to be a part of our lives again. That’s worth something.”
“Maybe to you.”
She leans in and clutches my hands. “Forget Dad for a second. Remember how much fun we used to have watching the games together? Don’t you miss it?”
I don’t say no, but I don’t agree either. I guess there is a part of me that is curious, that does miss the rush of the game and the roar of the crowd. I used to love football, and being in Seattle has made me kind of miss it. And maybe, just maybe, there’s still a little girl inside of me that wants a glimpse of the first man who ever broke her heart. Maybe that little girl does want to heal.
And maybe my sister isn’t the entire reason I moved to Seattle after all.
Two hours later, I’m dressed in the uniform White Water hooked me up with for today’s event and catching a ride share to the stadium.
I try not to think much about the purple-and-gold fabric I’m wearing because it goes against everything I stand for, namely football and being the subject of gawking and groping hands. It’s asset-accentuating, midriff-revealing, made of jersey material, and complete with matching shiny leggings. Luckily, White Water makes it all worth it with their compensation, and all I have to do is strut around with drink coupons. Easy peasy. The second my shift is over, I can go home and try to make something more of my tiny studio apartment.
I’m supposed to meet the White Water team lead at a fenced-in area of a restaurant parking lot across the street from Century Link Stadium, but no one prepared me for what I would actually be walking into.
When my ride pulls up to a corner and I see the crazy long line of waiting partygoers that dips back behind the beer-garden area, I stop completely in my tracks. “What the—”
It’s only ten a.m. Monica wasn’t messing around with that early-bird talk. There are still three whole hours to go before the game. But lo and behold, people are already milling around in full game gear, taking shots, chugging beers, and stumbling around like they’re already celebrating a win. It’s a full-on frat party, and I look like I fit right in.
I shouldn’t be here. Other than this fraud of an outfit I’m wearing, I don’t fit in. I’m not sure how I’m supposed to mingle with die-hard fans when I can barely stomach the mention of football.
Before I can turn around and run in the other direction, Bentley, the team lead for White Water, spots me from the front entrance of the gate and starts waving. “Looking good, Stevens,” he calls out. “You’re just in time.”
I force my feet to start moving again and greet him with a warm smile. “Hey, Bentley. Crazy morning, huh?”
“Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet.” He hands me a bunch of rectangular slips of paper with White Water’s brand name and a promotional offer. “Here’s your first stack. Try your best to keep these to one per person. Each coupon contains a free drink and a discounted drink ticket. Now it’s really important that you take your time passing these out. Don’t just shove them at everyone you see. Talk about the brand and get them excited to try it out.”
His salesman-like excitement makes me want to stab my eyes out.
“We’ve already got a line started on the end of the food truck there.” He points at a line that almost reaches the back of the gate.
“How long have they been here?”
Bentley chuckles. “I