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“He was?” I asked, an electric jolt shooting through me. “What about?”
“I dunno. Didn't say,” she said with a shrug, picking at the salad in front of her.
There was a look shared between my mother and father. Something had passed between them and it looked like disappr
oval of some sort. But disapproval of what? What was it they were thinking?
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing, dear,” my mother said.
They remained quiet, but continued to shoot looks at one another as I proceeded to eat my dinner.
Riley laughed suddenly, clapping her hands as if she'd just thought of the funniest thing in the world. My parents looked at her like she had indeed gone mad and I just cocked my head, wondering what she was thinking. Eventually, her laughter tapered off, though she still looked highly amused.
“They think Marcus might be trying to get into your pants,” Riley chirped.
I nearly choked on the piece of chicken I was chewing. “Wait, what?” I croaked, shooting a look at both of them. “Are you serious?”
“Honey, it's just – ” my mom started to say, but then stopped, letting my father continue.
“The way he looks at you sometimes is a little inappropriate,” my dad said. “It's almost like he's checking you out. I noticed it a little before you left for college, but didn't say anything at the time. But now that you're back, it's, well, even more so. And you are spending a lot of time together. ”
“I babysit his kids,” I said. “And now I'm teaching them how to surf, which is a coincidence. Nothing more. He didn't know that I was an instructor down at the shop. When I walked up, he was as surprised to see me as I was to see him.”
My parents shared a look that said they weren't sure about that and it infuriated me. Although, the news that even they'd picked on the idea that Marcus was checking me out sent a secret thrill through me.
“Really? You've known Marcus for how long?” I asked, my voice filled with righteous indignation. “Has he ever tried anything with me?”
“Has he?” my dad asked.
“No,” I said, dropping my fork onto my plate with a clatter as I stared at him with wide eyes. “Never once. He's never been inappropriate with me. Never once. He's been nothing but a perfect gentleman.”
Even though I wouldn't mind it if he did try something, I thought to myself.
“Besides,” I added. “I'm not a kid anymore. If – and it's a big if – he ever expressed interest in me and I reciprocated, there's nothing wrong with that. I'm twenty-one years old now, in case you forgot.”
“Honey, Marcus is a good man, for the most part – ”
“For the most part?” I raised an eyebrow at my father. “He is a good man. A good father, a decent man, and a good person. Period.”
“His past is a little sketchy, honey,” he said. “I know it was years ago, but he has a past you don't know anything about; a past I'd rather you not get caught up in.”
“What past?” I scoffed. “He was married and his wife died in a drunk driving accident. I can't see how that could possibly be his fault. ”
“She doesn't know, Dan,” my mom said, turning to my father. “She doesn't know about his drug problem.”
Drugs? Really? That was shocking to me. Of all the people I would have guessed had a drug addiction, Marcus Pratt would have been the last. He lived in a beautiful, clean, and expensive home in Huntington Beach. He worked a boring financial job, had two kids. There was nothing about him that made me think drug addict. Not in a million years. I didn’t even know what to say. Surely, they had to be mistaken.
“It's true,” my dad said softly. “It's why he never went pro. He played for UCLA and was actually on the verge of being drafted. You already knew that. But what you didn't know is that he was kicked off the football team for a positive drug test. It was one of many, actually. And later, he was arrested with cocaine in his possession. He has a record, and ever since his wife died, I've worried he might fall back into old habits. They say tragedy can make an addict go back to those things that once brought them comfort.”
My jaw was on the floor. Marcus? No way. I wanted to deny it all on his behalf, tell them they were mistaken, but I guess I didn't really know Marcus all that well. I certainly didn't know what he did during his college years. And even so, even if he had a past like that, it was so long ago. He'd quite obviously cleaned up his act since then and was living a good, clean, respectable life.
“So? Who hasn't done stupid shit in college?” I said. “I had so many opportunities to get into trouble in San Diego. My roommate was drunk almost every night. The things I saw – ”
“Honey,” my dad said. “You don't understand. He's an addict, that doesn’t just go away. He will struggle with it every day for the rest of his life. It's fine for you to babysit, but I'm just saying, watch out. Don't do anything stupid. Don't get involved with him personally.”
Suddenly, I'd lost my appetite and stood up from the table. “I left SDSU because I didn't want to be lured into that lifestyle,” I snapped. “I've never given you any reason to think I wasn't level-headed and mature enough to make my own choices. I'm not a child anymore.”
