Matthew

It’s around noon and Stanley, Mr. Madison, and I are in the basement.

It’s set up somewhat like a man cave. A pool table is in the far left corner, a dartboard on the wall across from the door, and Carolina Panthers décor on almost every wall.

There’s even a Carolina Panthers’ blanket on the top of one of the white, reclining sofas.

A flat-screen television is built into the north wall, a black-granite counter bar to my right. A hand claps my shoulder as I take it all in and Stanley steps up to my side. “Nice right?” He smiles as he looks around. “Helped the Pops set it up and everything.”

“Carolina Panthers?” I ask with an inclined brow.

“Hell yeah, man! We’ve been fans for a long time! When I was little I loved the colors, but Dad loves the team because his college roommate used to be a defensive coach.”

“Really?” I look at Mr. Madison, who turns on the TV and flips the channel to ESPN.

“Yep.” Mr. Madison acknowledges. “I used to get tickets—right on the front row. Best seats in the house. Got inside the box a couple of times, too. I prefer front row though.” He winks over his shoulder.

“That’s cool. Do you still keep in touch with him?” I ask.

Mr. Madison drops the remote control, going for the pool table. “That would be nice, but unfortunately he passed away two years ago.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Nah, don’t worry yourself about it.” He waves a dismissive hand. “Who’s your team?” he inquires, looking at me as if I’m going to say the shittiest team on the planet.

“Green Bay all day, man!”

“Hell no! You can’t be serious!” Stanley throws two thumbs down, shaking his head. “I can’t believe we have a Packer lover in the house!”

I chuckle. “Hey, man! They’re a great team!”

“They’re all right,” Mr. Madison chuckles to himself.

“They win more games than the Panthers,” I laugh.

“Oh, shit, Dad! He just went there!”

“He sure did, didn’t he?” We all laugh together, Mr. Madison racking the balls in the triangle tray. “Nah, that’s okay. As long as you love football, you’re okay in my book.” Mr. Madison walks away from the pool table to get behind the bar. He pulls down a bottle of scotch, three glasses, and pours some into each. “Jamison?” he offers, holding a glass up.

Stanley grabs a glass right away.

“Sure,” I murmur, recalling the conversation Piper and I had about it being wise to take the drink if he offers.

I think I’m winning him over, but I could use the extra brownie points…even though it’s only noon.

“Drink up, bud,” Stanley sighs. “You’re gonna need it with all that’s planned today. Mom goes overboard with a big O. We can never just relax during the day.”

Mr. Madison rubs his hands together as he meets at the pool table. “Ready for some pool?”

He places his glass on the table behind him and then walks to the wall lined up with pool sticks. He takes three of them down, coming our way and handing them to us.

“Piper was the only one of the girls that loved playing pool with me,” he informs me, a proud smile on display. “She’s very competitive.”

“Very,” Stanley laughs.

“Is that so?” I ask, amused.

“Yes! Oh—look at this.” Mr. Madison takes off for a glass case behind the sofa. He pulls the door open and takes out a picture frame.

Coming back in our direction, he hands the frame to me and then steps beside me, pointing at the photograph of the teenage girl with pigtails and braces.

“That’s Piper?” I fight a laugh, studying her in her red and black basketball uniform and braces.

“Yep. She started for her high school. She had so much heart—so much drive. She was so damn ambitious and I thought surely she’d go further with her life—get a career worth something, you know?”

I look up at him, avoiding a frown. “What do you mean?”

“Come on!” His voice is louder, raspier. “You can’t tell me you don’t find it silly that she’s editing for some magazine. That’s beneath her!”

I shrug one shoulder. “I don’t think it’s bad at all. She loves her job and is passionate about it. She’s also very good at it.”

“We wanted her to make more of herself. We didn’t send her off to Harvard and pay tens of thousands in tuition just for her to spend her days telling people about what restaurant has the best kale chips in New York. She settled, and for what?”

“Well,” I start, lowering the photo, “she has a great place back in Manhattan. And, pardon my language, but she works her ass off—sometimes going in before the sun rises—just to get projects finished early for her job.”

“That’s true. Plus, every time I call her, she’s busy,” Stanley adds. “She sounds happy too.”

I nod. “I see her work late on the nights I visit and I wonder how she does it—how she keeps the steam, the drive, the passion. Now that you’ve told me she’s always been this way, well, you’ve got to admit that’s something to admire, Mr. Madison.”

He looks me over before averting his gaze to the TV. “I just think she deserves more out of life,” he grumbles beneath his breath, walking back to the pool table. “You know what? You two get the game started. I’ve gotta run upstairs to take a quick vitamin.” Mr. Madison forces a smile at Stanley and me but wastes no time walking around us and marching up the stairs.

We watch him go, and when the door creaks closed we know he might not be coming back anytime soon.

“Sensitive man.” Stanley shrugs, turning to look at me. “He doesn’t like to be wrong. He knows Piper is doing better than both Lena and Bailey combined. Maybe not financially—yet—but emotionally, she is. I think he’s just upset because she didn’t fail at doing something she actually wanted to do.”

“What did they want her to study again?” I sit on one of the stools as he sips his drink, pretending I don’t know the answer to that question.

“Oh,” Stanley chokes on a laugh, placing his glass on the counter and then leaning his lower back against the edge. “Well, if it didn’t have anything to do with saving lives, justice, business—accounting at least—then they didn’t approve. A doctor, dentist, surgeon, accountant—anything like that. Piper let them know early on that she didn’t want to do any of it. They said they wouldn’t pay her tuition if she didn’t take the courses, so of course she went along with it. But during her freshman year, she made the wise decision to switch her major, drop out of what Mom and Dad wanted her in. She called me personally and told me she was worried she was making a mistake. I told her she wasn’t making one at all. Our parents shouldn’t have that much control of our destiny—our future. They think they should, but they’re wrong. When they found out, they were upset, but they didn’t want us to look like the idiots by not having her graduate. Oh,” he laughs, like he remembers something, “and she dated this one guy that they set her up with—a real douche with more money than he knew what to do with. I guess they figured if she wouldn’t do what they wanted, she could be with someone they wanted her to be with. Wrong. Piper terminated that too. That was years ago.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah.” He rubs his face. “But as independent and smart and ambitious as Piper is, I can’t help but wonder about one thing…”

“Oh, yeah? What’s that?” I ask.

He looks me over, a smile twitching at his lips. “I can’t, for the life of me, figure out why she felt she had to go so far as to hire an escort to be her boyfriend, just to please them.” He laughs.

And my heart sinks to my stomach.

My mouth moves, but words don’t form.

Holy shit.