Chapters (48)
- Cover
- PRAISE FOR ALEXA MARTIN’S PLAYBOOK SERIES
- Titles by Alexa Martin
- Dedication
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- Prologue
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-one
- Twenty-two
- Twenty-three
- Twenty-four
- Twenty-five
- Twenty-six
- Twenty-seven
- Twenty-eight
- Twenty-nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-one
- Thirty-two
- Thirty-three
- Thirty-four
- Thirty-five
- Thirty-six
- Thirty-seven
- Thirty-eight
- Epilogue
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- About the Author
- What’s next onyour reading list?
My mouth falls open as I read through his scrappy yet pleasantly neat handwriting.
THE MISSION OF THE QUINTON HOWARD JUNIOR FOUNDATION IS TO FIGHT FOR JUSTICE AND EQUALITY ACROSS THE BOARD. BY SUPPORTING AND FUNDING ORGANIZATIONS THAT ARE DEDICATED TO ENDING RACISM AND HELPING PEOPLE LIVE A LIFE WITH DIGNITY, WE WILL HELP MAKE THIS COUNTRY A BETTER PLACE
FOR ALL PEOPLE.
His mission statement isn’t some messy, thrown-together thing. It’s short, to the point, and perfectly describes his objective. He melds together two problems and makes them seem so cohesive that I couldn’t find a place to separate them even if I tried. There are pages and pages of organizations. Some local, some national, all listed with what they do and why he thinks they’d benefit not just from funding, but funding specifically from him. And finally, he has a group of about twenty potential board members.
“This is amazing.” I look at him once I’m finished reading everything. “Why did you act like you didn’t have anything ready when I asked?”
“People tend to act like I’m incapable of doing anything by myself.” He shrugs, but there’s tension in his shoulders that wasn’t there a minute ago and his smile no longer reaches his eyes. “I like to gauge how big of an idiot people think I am. What’s the point of letting someone in who isn’t going to ever take me seriously?”
Ouch.
I know that he showed me in the end, so that means that on some level he senses how much I want this to work. But it also shows that I’m not doing a very good job of hiding some of my personal feelings and he was able to pick up on that.
Just like it wasn’t my fault that I got dealt a hand that held a dead mom and a dad who died a slow and painful death, Quinton didn’t choose to be the son of a professional athlete. And even though I think he was the lucky one between the two of us, it doesn’t discount his feelings and his hurt.
In the end, all people care about is themselves.
I’d do well to remember that.
My sob story doesn’t matter here. It won’t change anything. If I want this to work, I have to focus on Quinton. That means taking him and all of his childhood problems—no matter what I think of them—seriously.
He has a point to make. I have a job to keep.
And there’s only one way to make that happen.
I hand him back his notebook.
“It looks like the Quinton Howard Junior Foundation is well on its way.” I crack my knuckles, a habit my dad detested, and reposition my computer in front of me. “You ready to get busy?”