Rekindling Tradition

Chapter One: Meeting in the Ice-cream Parlour

Disclaimer: All characters and settings are purely fictional. If there are any similarities to real people or places, it is merely coincidental. The plot is written by me and not copied from any other writer.

I'm excited to begin the final book in this series. It is a big accomplishment for me, because I'm so great at never finishing books. Beginning this book is like the start of ending that bad habit of mines. I hope you enjoy Rekindling Tradition.

Note: This book is the third installment of the Tradition series. Please read the first two books before reading this book.

********** CHAPTER ONE **********

"I need that story on my desk, Scott. You're wasting time," Dennis nagged, his bald head shinning from the gross sweat he collected from using the stairs. The elevator was in the process of being serviced, so it put people like Dennis Kingsley in a sour mood. Although, he could use a few laps up and down those stairs if his two sizes too small shirt and slacks were of any indication. I rolled my eyes and resumed drinking my coffee. The story was already on his desk, and he would have known that if he spent less time flirting with Susan Bennet in Marketing and more time editing the stories, he nagged us to complete. 

Three years ago, getting this job meant the world to me. It was a step towards accomplishing my dreams. It wasn't anything major like Medium and BreakPoint, which were significant Sports Magazines but, it was making its name in the sports journalism field. I loved writing stories, but I hated the environment. It was flowing with egotistical males who felt the only need for women was to satisfy the quota expected for hiring people in a business establishment. Not to mention the consistent sexual harassment that occurs every day. The guys in this place were pigs. As much as I wanted to walk away from the idiots, I had responsibilities. 

The sound of the phone ringing interrupts my thoughts. With a quick sigh, I rest my coffee down and pick up the phone, "Sports Limited, Rylee Scott speaking. How can I help?" 

"Good afternoon Ms. Scott. This is Vice-Principal Matters from Lawston Elementary School. Your son Tyrus is being held in the office for punching another student. It would be great if you can come to the school to handle this matter." I frowned. 

"I will be there," I replied dryly. My frustration was boiling inside me, but I couldn't say or do anything. The Vice Principal bid me a farewell before hanging up the phone. I slammed the phone down, releasing my frustration. Gosh! He was so much like his father. The thought of Theo broke my heart. How many years was it? Eight? Eight years since I last saw him face to face. For eight years, I walked away from him because I couldn't live with ruining his dreams. If he knew I pregnant? If he knew I was carrying his child, he would have left it all for us. But I couldn't do that to him, not after everything. 

It seemed as if the world wanted to remind me of my pain when one of the workers turned on the television in the room, and the screen lit up to the Medium's latest story. The Eagles won another game. The gold and forest green aesthetics complimented the replays of the last game. Not that I needed to see it. Tyrus and I watched every game. He was a football fan, much like I was. 

The screen shifted to an interview with Theo. To say he grew up would be an understatement. He was fit. His frame was more muscular than it was when we were in high school. He had a beard, a slight stubble, something he must have grown when he was in college. He exuded confidence and sex. Even at twenty-six, I found him to be extremely attractive. I guess nothing would change that for me. I kept my eyes locked on his smile when the interviewer complimented him. 

"Damn, that man is too sexy for this world!" Lilianna exclaimed, biting on the Styrofoam cup that held her coffee. I swallowed the jealousy. I quickly got up, shoving my phone in my purse. I shuffled the papers on my desk, trying to tidy it in case Mr. Warren came by. He was the owner of the magazine. Mr. Warren rarely made visits, but it was not wise to have things thrown around in case he showed up. He was a stern man. Even oily Dennis knew better than to have things disorganized around Mr. Warren.