“That motherfucking asshole. I’m going to make sure no one works with him,” my dad shouted. I had to pull the phone receiver away from my ear. I pictured my father pacing the floor of his office in our San Francisco home. I’d called him after I had time to process everything. “The nerve of him. To blackmail my own daughter.”

I didn’t like explaining everything to him. It was embarrassing to once again be caught up in a scandal. Luckily, my parents liked Oakley and didn’t understand the issue of us dating, and now that I was clear of Dr. Haynes’s ethics lectures, I didn’t see the problem either. I did my job. I hadn’t done anything wrong.

“You don’t need his recommendation, sweetheart. You know you have a job here whenever you’re ready. You were practically raised at Plotify. You were born for this.”

I sucked in a deep breath. This would be the hard part. “I’m not sure that’s what I want to do anymore, Dad.” He went quiet. The sounds of his pacing footsteps completely stopped. I took a deep breath and continued. “Dr. Haynes is an asshole, but something he said really hit me. I don’t want to be handed this job. And I’m actually really enjoying sports representation. I really want to succeed on my own merits.”

Dad sighed. “I’m so proud of you. I support whatever you want to do. I’m going to chat with some connections I have. There’s a football player in New York that likes to randomly release rap albums. Maybe I could—”

“Dad. I think it’s time you stop cleaning up my messes. I think I need to...I need to do this on my own.” I ran away to Texas because I needed to escape the bullying, but a lot had happened since that night. I wasn’t the same girl anymore. I was a hard worker. I knew my shit. I needed to find my own road, wherever it led.

“Can we talk about it when we see you this weekend?” Dad asked.

“What? Y’all were just here.”

“Oh my...did you just say y’all? You need to get out of Texas pronto, my dear.” I smiled. I hadn’t even noticed that it had slipped. “And no, you’re coming here. UT has a game at USC. Your mother and I got tickets.”

My stomach sank. My alma mater? I was destined to run into someone I knew. And since I was still Oakley’s publicist, there was no getting out of it. Shit. Shit. Shit. I told my dad I loved him and hung up the phone so that I could start obsessing, I mean, planning for the weekend.