16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Marketa

W ell, telling my dad in front of a crowd and on TV no less was not the best way. But I was done with him ordering Shawn the way he was. I was done with my dad being the bully he’s become. I know my dad is protecting me, and I love him for it. But Shawn is not like the other guys, and I wish he could see that.

Instead, he’s blinded by some hatred he has for the very players he coaches.

Help me make sense of that please!

So, it's not a surprise that right after the game, he dragged me home, as if I was some little girl who didn't have a clue versus an adult that wasn't too far away from raising her own child.

I seriously hoped that Shawn was nothing like my dad when it came to players and having our kids so against dating them. We might be going toe to toe if that were the case.

I huffed as we pulled into the garage and I made sure to slam the door as we got out, making my dad glare at me. But I didn't care. I was about to make this as childish as he was being. Maybe, just maybe, he might see how he was acting.

“Don’t slam the door, Marketa.”

“Stop being a dick, Dad, and I might act like an adult.” I stormed into the house, crossing my arms. No point in going upstairs to avoid him. He would follow me into that sanctuary.

“Don’t you dare talk to me that way. I am still your father, and you are still living under my roof. Doing God knows what, though!”

“Believe me, David, I can easily fix that. Shawn has his own place, I’m sure he’d love for me to move in with him.”

“One, don’t you call me by my first name. You know how that irks me.” I rolled my eyes at that. As if it was okay for him to annoy and disrespect me. I get it, he’s my dad, but I’m still an adult. Respect is a two-way street in my mind.

“Whatever,” I mumbled.

“Two,” he started, choosing to ignore my comment, “you don’t know anything about Shawn. I’ve always told you to stay away from players because I know the assholes they can be when it comes to women. They have no respect for them and treat them like whores, going from one to the next.”

“Dad! Would you listen to yourself? Do you think I would allow myself to be treated like that?”

“No, I know that. But these guys, they’re smooth, they are good con artists.”

“If you have such a problem, why do you coach men like that?”

“Marketa do not veer off topic.”

“I’m not, Dad. All my life, you’ve told me to stay clear of them. And all I’m trying to do is understand why. I would think if you hated men like that, you wouldn’t work with them. No money is worth giving up your integrity, right? That’s what you always told me.”

“No man is worth giving up your self-respect over. No man is worth losing oneself over. No man is worth sneaking and lying over.”

“And that is where you are wrong. I love Shawn. He’s been such a great man to me. He respects me, cares for me, and wants what’s best for me. I was the one keeping all of this from you, not him. He wanted to tell you because he respected you. Not just as his coach, but as my dad.

“Furthermore, he’s not some hound dog like you think, either. If you learned a little more about your players, you’d see how humble they really are. Sure, some are after the hoop hoes, but there’s a lot that’s not. Shawn is one of those guys.”

“And when you’re stuck at home, caring for this kid, you think he’s going to be there when he’s in the limelight?”

“Yes! Because he had the perfect chance to walk away. Dad, I got pregnant off of a one-night stand, or well, it should have been a one-night stand. Shawn didn’t need to be here; he didn’t even know. Well, fuck, I didn’t even know.

“But that’s all beside the point. Shawn will be by my side.”

“No, he won’t! I know those types. They make good on their word for a bit, but when something better comes along, they’ll leave. He won’t think twice about dumping you. Mark my words, Marketa. Don’t start thinking he’s this great man when he will fuck you over. And don’t you think you can come to me with your tears and sob story. I won’t take you in again, not after this.”

I opened my eyes wide, taking a step back from this man. I couldn’t have been more shocked if he had slapped me. Well, he did, at least mentally. Maybe emotionally, too.

This was not the man I had grown up with. This was not the man I loved.

This was a man who had hate in his heart. More so for the men he saw day in and day out. And I could not understand why he worked with them. But I understood, now, why he didn’t want to listen to them.

He was above them.

I’m surprised it took me so long to see that.

“Who hurt you, Dad?”

“Who do you think? Your mom left with a player. Thought they were going to have forever, she claimed. Two months after she left and got the quickie divorce so they could get married, or so she thought, he got kicked out of the league and dumped her ass. She came crawling back to me, talking about how she loved me and how she fucked up.

“The last I heard, she was still working through some various players, but most don’t look at her.”

I lied, I was shocked before, now I was just dumbfounded.

This was news I had never heard before. In all the years, in all the talks I had of my mom, this was nothing I knew of.

I looked at my dad, as if seeing him for the first time. Sure, it made sense, but that was still a lot of generalization on his part about players. And again, not all women are like my mom, so not all players are assholes.

“I don’t know who you are, Dad. You kept this from me. I had the right to know what my mom did.”

“Marketa-”

“No,” I told him, cutting him off. “You don’t get to say anything to me. You controlled my life when I was younger in telling me whom I could date. Do you know the hell I went through in high school because of you? And this was your excuse.”

He reached out his hand to grab me and I stepped back, shaking in anger, hurt, and frustration.

“Don’t touch me!” I screamed, pulling my arm away. “Don’t ever touch me again. I can’t stand you, Dad.” I turned, wiping my eyes of the tears that were starting. That was all something so unforeseen to me. I started up the stairs, falling to my knees by the third one as sharp pains tore through my stomach.

“Marketa?”

“Call 911.”