Secrets & Surrender: Part One Read Online Free Page A

wearing me out as it was. And it wasn’t because of all the hits I was taking either. It was hard to lead a team when all they gave you was the cold shoulder. Then there was Dillon’s brother, Seth, who waited on the sidelines at every practice. It was unnerving. Shit, it wasn’t my fault that Dillon couldn’t throw worth a flip. And if it weren’t for my father ragging on me to be on the team, I wouldn’t have even bothered. “You need to uphold the Marcelli name. The Marcelli legend needs to be kept alive,” he’d say to me on almost a daily basis. I finally gave in just to get him off my back. Being the only son in a high achieving family was a lot of pressure I didn’t want. Every time the old man looked at me, I knew it was with disappointment. He expected better. I guess he was embarrassed I wasn’t a trophy son he could show off to his friends.
    “Bianca?”
    “What? Oh my God. Don’t tell me we’re lost. Don’t make me go into that shed over there and ask for directions.” She eyed the building warily.
    “No. I think this is the place.” I jumped out of the car, walking over to a dust-covered sign.
    “You’ve got to be kidding.” She slammed the car door shut.
    I wiped the dust off the sign, revealing the words. “Dixie Bar & Grille: Home of the Best Fried Pickles in Texas.”
    “Nope, this is the place.” I wiped my hands on my slacks.
    “Fried pickles? Eww. I’ve changed my mind. Let’s go.”
    “No way. You begged Father to make me bring you here. So now we’re here. We’re going in.”
    I opened the door, and a cowbell rang as we walked in.
    “Why does everyone have big hair?” Bianca yelled over the blaring country music.
    There were several girls in a corner. They giggled as Bianca and I walked to the bar, where a person was serving sodas.
    I rolled my eyes. Bianca asked the strangest questions. It’s not like I knew anything about Texas fashion. “I think it’s for the same reason almost every guy here is wearing a cowboy hat.”
    Bianca and I were the only ones not wearing blue jeans, and everyone seemed to notice, not that all the staring bothered me. But being the new kid in town was hard enough without sticking out like a sore thumb. I should’ve been used to it by now. Even in New York, we stood out because of our family name. In New York, the Marcellis were known in social circles for their political ambition as well as some of the family’s shady past in bad business dealings. Some of those dealing walked a fine line between legal and not so legal. Somehow, my father managed to separate himself from the negative publicity of the Marcelli name and become the president of a major university. Though, it was controversial on how he’d gotten the position, especially since he’d never been a faculty member or worked his way up the ranks, like most university administrators. That had pissed off a lot of people at Texas University. But the Marcelli name carried a lot of weight in Texas, something to do with our family’s close ties with heads of oil companies and some politicians. Needless to say, a lot of strings were pulled.
    We stood in the corner drinking something called “Big Red.” It was pretty good. I noticed a couple of the guys from the football team. They studied me, not saying a word. I gave them a nod. It wasn’t going to be easy winning them over. Everyone seemed to know everyone else. People were in their cliques, and Bianca and I seemed to be the odd men out.
    Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, a harmonica shrieked from the speakers and some guy started singing about being born on the bayou near the Texas border and being born to boogie. It must’ve been a really popular song because girls squealed and dragged some of the guys toward the dance floor. I was about to make a bolt for the door when some dude in black cowboy hat asked Bianca to dance. I was surprised when she actually said, “yes.” The guy resembled a younger version of