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Hollis

“Thanks for lunch, Dad” I lean over and give olf course

“I’ot to see you You’re too busy for your old man these days”

Old man? Hardly My father is the epitoeries, fillers, and soically placed Botox He and o—can barely e?

Dad smiles (or tries to)

“Kiddo, want to walk me to my office?”

I glance at the entrance to the baseball stadiuraduation gift—and inwardly groan No, I actually don’t want to walk him inside; that will take another hour at least I’ll have to say hello to every janitor, administrative assistant, lackey, coach, player, and staffer alk past on the way to his office, located at the far ends of the earth, down the hall, and to the right

Ugh! “Yeah, sure—of course I have time”

No time, actually, but I cannot say no to my father

No, I do not want to risk the chance that I’ll bump into Marlon Daymon, first baseman and ex-boyfriend Boyfriend? Eh, it’s a stretch to call hi, played into all my insecurities, and ot his wallet Took hours to reply to es Was always late The last straw? When he “borrowed” h who even noticed? Oh, just the tabloids and their millions and millions of readers, that’s who! Luckily, no one kneas h the mud—but it could have been

Fortunately, Marlon is no longer erhi yesterday, today, or tomorrow

Shit, shit, shit

Dad unbuckles and slides out offor security to coather up my purse, phone, and water bottle