CONTRACT VOLUME IV
Chapter Thirty-Four
Payton
The cab dropped me off at the south end of the stadium and as I walked toward the ticket window, I ran into several security guards who had known me since I was a child. They high-fived me and told me that my mother had already arrived and was up in the skybox. One of the guys offered to walk me up, but I told them there was no need to leave their rounds. They radioed up to let the guys watching the skybox know I was on my way, and then told me to enjoy the game.
As a child, I had absolutely loved coming to the stadium on opening game day. The crowds were always excited to be back at Soldier Field and the anticipation of a possible championship season like the legendary ’84 season ran through the stadium in an electric hum. The Bears flags had been raised alongside the American flags and today they fluttered gently in the summer breeze as I climbed the steps toward the skybox.
I waved at the concession workers who ran the beer and hot dog stands, and stopped to talk to Pete McEvoy who had run the stadium steps selling peanuts and cotton candy for over twenty years. He told me that he had a good feeling about today’s game and that he was sure the Bears would beat the Eagles. I passed on his offer to place a bet, but laughed as I said I was glad he had such undying faith in the boys.
I climbed the last flight of stairs and stood marveling at the bright green turf covered with the Bears logo and the fresh markings of a new season of play. This was home to me. The place where all my favorite people had gathered to cheer our boys on to victory or console them after defeat — though my grandfather would often kick them in the ass when he felt they had played badly. No one seemed to mind that his granddaughter would sit in the back corner of the locker room and listen to Coach Halas recount the game. By the time I was a teenager, I’d become as much a part of the tradition as everyone else who passed through the tunnel and took the field.
I sighed as I turned and headed for the skybox. I knew I couldn’t avoid my mother, but I certainly didn’t want to engage her before I absolutely had to. One of the guards opened the door and welcomed me to the skybox, and I saw my mother standing with her back to the door, surveying the field as she’d done every single time I’d ever been in this box.
“Hello, Mother,” I said trying to hide my contempt under a layer of good manners and calmness.
“Payton Gale, what on earth are you wearing?” she said as she spun around and took my outfit in from head to toe. “You look like you’re going to a funeral.”
“Well, if the shoe fits…” I muttered. She raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, letting me know she’d heard what I’d uttered. “I’m just trying to stay cool today.”
“You know how I hate the all-black look,” she said disapprovingly. She was dressed in a tight-fitting, yellow sheath dress that hugged her curves and made her look much younger than her actual age. She had topped the dress with a string of large, black pearls that my father had given her for Christmas the year after Jonathan died, and on her feet were her usual black stilettos with the red bottoms. She was way overdressed, but that was the point. She was in power, and power dressed the part, football game or not.
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” I offered, not knowing what else to say. “I’m here as you requested.”
“Why do you always have to be so difficult?” she asked as she ran a hand through her severe, dark bob. “Your brother would have—”
“My brother is dead,” I said, cutting her off. Her eyes widened and I could see the look of pain that quickly flashed across her face before she composed herself.
“You are such a rude and ungrateful child,” she hissed. “I have no idea what I’ve done to deserve this kind of treatment.”
“Oh really? No idea at all?” I said as I felt the anger and frustration rising in my chest. I’d come there because she’d ordered me to, and now she was berating me for something she had done?
“Payton Gale, your father would be ashamed of the way you are behaving,” she scolded as she crossed the room and stood staring at me from less than a foot away.
“No, actually, I don’t think he would be,” I retorted. She could try and reconstruct history, but I wasn’t buying any of it. “He would probably agree with me about the fact that you have become a cold, calculating, bossy bitch who can’t seem to keep her nose out of her daughter’s business!”
SLAP! The sound of my mother’s palm meeting my cheek sounded extra loud in the empty room. I gasped as I covered my cheek and stared at her.
“Don’t you ever talk to me that way again,” she hissed. “I will not have it.”
“Mother, why are you doing this?” I asked in a soft voice. “Why are you being so incredibly cruel and unbending? What is wrong with you?”
“Me? What is wrong with me?” she laughed. “Oh, Payton, you have no idea how the world works. Your father spoiled you and now that he’s gone, I’m left to pick up the pieces and make sure that you don’t lose everything as you flit through the world trying to make a career out of a pipe dream.”
“It’s not a pipe dream, Mother,” I said stiffly. “I’ve worked hard to get to where I am.”
“You’ve worked hard to become the mistress of a Back of the Yards billionaire who sees you as nothing more than a means to an end for his sports dream?” she spat. “Well, good for you; that’s something you can be very proud of.”
“I am not his mistress,” I said through clenched teeth, and despite the fact that I was lying through them, I continued, “We are seeing each other, and we’re serious about this relationship.”
“Ah yes, well, we’ll see about that, won’t we?” she smirked. “Give it a few months and he’ll get bored when he realizes that you have nothing he wants.”
“You’re unbelievable,” I said as I stood staring at her, trying to figure out how, despite the fact that she had raised me, I knew nothing about my mother. It was like I was looking at a complete stranger.
“No, I’ve simply learned that there are things you have to do if you want to survive, and I’ve done them,” she said as she moved to the bar and poured herself a glass of champagne from the open bottle that sat chilling in ice. “I’m not as sentimental about things as you are, Payton, and if you want to succeed, you’d better learn to toughen up, young lady. Champagne?”
I shook my head and watched as she carried her glass back to the seat she’d commandeered for herself and sat down. I could not fathom what it took to be the person she’d become and I felt sad that she’d hardened her heart so much that she now hated her only daughter. I looked at her as the anger and hurt bubbled up inside me, and before I could stop myself, I said, “I didn’t think it was possible for anyone to hate their own mother, but I’m finding it a lot easier every time I see you.”
“Get out,” my mother growled. “Leave this stadium and do not come back until you’ve learned some manners, Payton Gale. Honor thy mother and father. Do you remember nothing?”
“Ha! You’re such a hypocrite!” I cried as I turned for the door. “A pathetic hypocrite who killed her own son.”
I beat a fast exit and slammed the door behind me. When I heard the sound of glass shattering against the door, I knew I’d hit a nerve.
I called a cab and sat in the backseat weeping silently the whole ride back to the penthouse.