“And the clock’s ticking. The rest of the ownership wants to vote on an expansion at the March ownership meetings.” Oscar looks at his watch. “Which are in less than three weeks. If we don’t have this settled ASAP, Eckert will insert his plant, and who knows how he or she’ll vote.”
Alice picks up her head. “Daddy would roll over in his grave if that happened.”
Great, no pressure at all.
I’d rather carve out my fingernails with a Swiss-Army knife than go head-to-head with Eckert again, but I can’t just abandon Alice. I can’t risk the team going to some pencil pusher Eckert implants. The team deserves better than that. “What are our options? Did he give a basis for his findings? I’m assuming he has to give more of a reason than we don’t play well in the sandbox.”
Calvin pulls out a folder marked NFL Constitution and Bylaws then hands it to me. “He has deemed your relationship with Mr. Brennan a conflict of interest. You have a financial interest in the compensation of a player, which is a violation of the NFL constitution and bylaws, Article 9.1, section B.4.”
“That’s why I was saying you two can’t get married,” Alice says. “If you’re not married, there’s technically no conflict. Although I think we can argue there isn’t a conflict now. You’re wealthy in your own right. Even if Chase doesn’t earn another penny, you’re set for life.”
My hand instinctively goes to my stomach. “I could sign away any rights to the money he earns. His pay wouldn’t affect me, but it would affect my future children, which in a roundabout way impacts me. Chase is on track to sign the biggest contract in NFL history. If I’m involved at all, there’s a conflict of interest.”
“What if Chase offers to work for free?” Alice asks. “Like I said, you guys don’t need the money. I’m sure we could talk him into playing for the love of the game. If there’s no financial relationship, there’s no conflict.”
If there were ever any doubt as to why Alice cannot be in charge of the team, it’s very clear now.
“The players’ union would never go for it. It sets a bad precedent.” I turn toward Calvin and Oscar. “Could I abstain? Tons of owners don’t get involved in the day to day. Can’t I say that as long as Chase is playing, I’ll let Oscar handle all the player personnel decisions?”
Oscar snaps his fingers. “That’s a good idea. Nothing dictates how involved an owner has to be. You could take a backseat until Chase is out of the league. Plenty of owners take a hands-off policy. Look at the Fords in Detroit. They’ve had the team since 1963, and they’ve done next to nothing. They keep their heads down, let their front office do their job, and keep collecting those checks.”
Listening to his rationale makes me realize what a bad idea that is. “And the team suffers as a result. Detroit has consistently been one of the worst teams in the league. I can’t do that to the Niners. There has to be another way.”
Fiddling with his pen, Calvin glances at his pad. “As counsel for the trust, it’s my obligation to take legal action. Eckert is not only saying you can’t assume leadership of the team, he’s also saying you cannot inherit your stake in the team—a clear violation of Jeb’s wishes. I can assure you, it will be a long, messy court battle, and may take upward of five to ten years before it’s settled, but it’s my job to make sure Jeb’s wishes are respected.”
“Do you think they’ll settle out of court?” I ask.
“I doubt it,” Calvin replies. “Once it goes to court, they’ll be more concerned with setting a precedent than anything else.”
A thought has been nagging at the back of my mind during this entire discussion. “Why would Jeb leave me the team knowing I wouldn’t be eligible to accept it? He has to have known this is what would happen.”
“He didn’t think he was going to go this soon, for one,” Calvin explains. “Two, he thought you could find a way.”
Alice takes a sip of her water. “Can’t we just say I’m taking over and Ari can really do everything? You said family members don’t have to go through this crap, right? She can come to all the meetings and tell me what to say and do. Eckert can’t prevent her from being my advisor.”
“I don’t recommend that,” Calvin says. “The league could sue you for breach of contract, amongst a number of things. That’s not the way to go.”
“But how would they find out?” Alice asks. “If we keep it between us, no one will ever know.’
Famous last words by anyone who’s ever been caught in a conspiracy.
Oscar holds up his hand. “Before we start talking about deceiving the league in a manner that could get all of our tits in a wringer, Ari, do you even want this? I know we’ve just hit you with it, but we need you to think about what owning the Niners means. As owner, you would hold Chase’s career in your hands. Could you really tell him when it was time to hang it up?”
I snort. “Clearly you don’t know Chase and me. I have no problem telling him when his game is crap. I’m probably his biggest critic. It’s a cornerstone of our relationship.”
Oscar cocks his head. “There’s a difference between telling him to play better and telling him he can’t play at all. Could you trade him? Cut him?”
I pour a glass of water and take a sip, giving myself a moment to consider what Oscar’s saying. Could I be the one to tell Chase his career is done, even if he doesn’t think it is? Could I actually make the decision to trade him if that was what was best for the team?
“I’d like to think I could,” I say. “I had to make the decision for myself that I wasn’t competitive any longer. It was hard, but I did it. Making that choice for Chase? I think I could. I think he’d want me to protect him from his ego—to get him off the field before he made an ass of himself. But then he has the rest of our lives to question that decision. That could result in a lot of resentment. I don’t know…” I look at Alice. “I hear you when you say you need me, and I don’t take that lightly. But I have to think about it. I need to talk to Chase. This impacts his life too.”
Calvin taps his pen on his pad. “I couldn’t agree more. You shouldn’t rush into this. I will be filing papers bringing suit against Mr. Eckert and the league on behalf of the estate. You will still have the right to disclaim the inheritance. If that is your ultimate decision, your stake in the team would go to Alice. Regardless, the league has chosen to ignore Jeb’s final wishes, and I must address those issues on behalf of the estate. This situation would have infuriated him.”
I nod. “Of course. I understand.” I touch Alice’s arm. “No matter what, I won’t leave you hanging. Regardless of the capacity, I’m here for you. You are not alone.”
She presses her lips together. “I can’t do this without you. Please… there has to be a way. I can’t handle all of this! It’s just too much.” She drops her head into her hands and sobs.
I put my arm around her and rest my chin on her shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’ll figure something out.”
******
Jeb, what did you get me into?
I rest my head on the steering wheel while I absorb everything that just transpired. I’m caught between a rock and a hard place.
I want this. Even though I’ve only known about it for an hour, I want this as bad as I’ve wanted anything. Owning the Niners… I’d call it a dream come true, but it’s something I’ve never even considered close enough to the realm of possibility to dream about.
Owning the team would be the ultimate fantasy come true. I’d be able to work in football, and no one could tell me my lack of a penis impedes my ability to understand Xs and Os. I’d have a vote in crucial issues that shape the direction of the league. I could bring a new voice to the table, one with a unique perspective they’ve never had. Because of my upbringing and life as an athlete, I understand the league and aspects of game play in a way that none of the other owners could. ’It’s everything I could ever want. And I’d get to do it for the rest of my life.
But only if I don’t marry Chase. So it’s not even an opti
on. I’m walking away without hesitation. I’m one hundred percent resolved in that decision, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting a little.
Tears stream down my face as I start my car. I take the long way home, hoping by the time I get to Daddy’s, the sting will have faded. When I talk to Chase about this, I don’t want him to sense even the slightest bit of uncertainty. I wish I didn’t have to tell him at all. The only thing that can come from it is pain, anguish, and guilt.
He’ll know how much I want this, and he’ll feel like shit that he’s the reason why I can’t take it. But with the babies coming, I don’t think he’ll push me away as a roundabout way of getting me to take it. He’ll know turning it down is the only choice. We’ll talk about it, and both agree, and life will go on.
But I worry the issue will loom over us for the rest of our lives. The guilt of what I gave up for him will eat at him. Part of him will always wonder if I regret it, if I think I made the wrong choice. I can see this popping up in every major fight we have till the end of time.
Our relationship is in the best place it’s ever been. We’ve never been this happy, and our foundation has never felt so solid. But I’m petrified this has the potential to upset the balance. It won’t break us, not even close, but it could put a crack in our foundation that will cause problems for years to come.
Chapter Forty-Five
Chase
“So… um… is this one for real this time?”
Cradling the phone between my shoulder and ear, I set the knife on the cutting board, then I wipe my hands on a kitchen towel. I’ve been fielding calls about the wedding all day. I’ve been expecting this one. My college roommate and I haven’t kept in touch as well as I would have liked over the years. After he was let go by the Texans a few years ago, he moved to Australia to play rugby, and other than a text or email here and there, we’ve barely connected. I’m just as much at fault as he is, but in my defense, I have had a lot of shit going on. The great thing about Boomer is that regardless of how long it’s been, we pick up right where we left off.
“Yeah, Boom. This one’s for real.”
“I’m just asking. Between the fake invite from before and then the save-the-date that was canceled, I just wanted to make sure this time. It’s not like I’m down the street anymore, so for me to get there’s a big deal. Where is it again? Dillon¸ Texas? It sounds made up.”
Heisman follows me around the kitchen, hoping I’m going to drop a morsel for him to lick up.
“I promise Dillon’s real. It’s where our parents grew up.”
“And the wedding’s really going to happen? I’m going to have to beg my ex-girlfriend Millie to come over and watch my dogs, and if I do that, we’re going to end up sleeping together, which means we’ll get back together, and she’s fucking nuts, man. So I’m happy to open that can of worms, because you’re my bro, but only if it’s really real. Not like the last time.”
Classic Boom, there’s always a story. I grab some plates from the cabinet then carry them to the table. “Can’t you find someone else to watch your dogs?”
“I’ve got six Irish Wolfhounds. They’re each as big as a horse, and they’ve got a crazy diet. Not just anyone can watch them. She’s the only one who loves them as much as I do.”
I pull silverware out of the drawer. “I totally get it. But yes, the wedding is real. Once you hit yes on the iPad, someone will call you to arrange your travel to the wedding. If I’m forking out the cash to fly you from Melbourne, that should tell you how real it is. A bunch of guys from Stanford have said yes already. It’ll be a mini-reunion.”
“All right, man, hitting yes as we speak. I’m in, and thanks for the lift.”
“It’s our pleasure. Getting to Dillon isn’t easy, so Ari and I wanted to make it as simple as we could for people, especially because of the short notice.”
“So you and Arianna, huh? I mean, I’ve seen it all over the internet, but man… it’s still hard for me to wrap my head around the two of you together. I’m so pissed we were roommates for three years and you never told me.”
After folding the napkins, I look at the silverware. Is it knife on the outside or fork? I can never remember. Eenie, meenie, miney, mo. Fork. Fork works. “Don’t be offended. No one knew. Not even Charlie.”
“Well, I feel a little better if Char-Char didn’t even know. Seriously, bro, I thought you two hated each other. Like Yankees-Red Sox hatred. Michigan-Ohio State hatred. Alabama—”
The silverware looks wrong, so I switch it around. “Yeah, Boom, I get it. We have a weird relationship.” The timer beeps, so I jog over to the oven and open the door. Damn, the eggplant looks gray. That can’t be good. I take the pan out of the oven and set it on the counter.
“Oh, I believe it. Remember that time we were at the College Football Awards? I’ve never heard nastier shit-talking than between you two. I was waiting for her to throw a punch. Either at you or that chick you brought.”
“Oh, I remember that! She had just done an ad with Marco Rivas, the swimmer from Spain. Then she went to Australia with him and went surfing. There were all these pics with her all over him, so I got pissed off and broke up with her. Then just to piss her off, I brought what’s-her-name with me to the awards show.
He laughs. “Lola. Oh, I’ll never forget Lola.”
I lean my back against the counter. A smile creeps across my face as the memory comes back to me. “That’s right—Lola. The moment she came up to me at that party, I knew she would be the perfect way to get back at Ari for the swimmer.” Lola was everything Ari couldn’t stand. Sadly, in my rush to mastermind the perfect revenge plan, I didn’t consider how much she would drive me nuts. I was stuck with her for three days, and by the end of the trip, I was ready to stab an ice pick through my eardrums so I didn’t have to listen to her anymore.
“Dude, you know Marco Rivas is gay, right?”
And this is why I hate telling this story. I look like a jealous, overbearing jerk. “I didn’t know that at the time. She went with him on a family trip as his beard. It turned out the guy had been trying to call me for a week to let me know what was going on, but I never answered his calls, and you know how good I used to be about checking my voicemail.”
Boom clucks his tongue. “All this going on right under my nose and I had no idea. You’re one sneaky bastard. And now you’re getting married in two weeks! How the hell am I supposed to pull a bachelor party together in that short of time?”
Bachelor party—I knew we were forgetting something. Unless Spencer has something up his sleeve, but I doubt it. Between the baby-in-progress, Calder, and work, he barely has time to think about anything else.
“It’s cool, man. You already threw me one, remember?”
“That doesn’t count. It was for a fake wedding.”
“Of course it counts. It was a fucking awesome party.” Not that I was there. I had been dealing with Jenna and trying to make sure Ari didn’t dump me. But I heard good things.
The door opens, and Ari walks in. She drops her keys and purse on the counter. Worry line across her forehead, deep set frown, distracted gaze. All signs point to something being very wrong.
“Boom, I’ve got to go. Keep an eye out for a call from the travel agent.”
Did I do something? I scan through the last few days in my mind, searching for something I may have promised then forgotten, something stupid I said, something I let slip through the cracks. I come up empty. Phew. Because my eggplant surprise isn’t going to earn me any forgiveness points. “What’s going on, Blondie? You look like you just found out Santa Claus isn’t real.”
“We need to talk.” She lifts the foil off of the pan. “And order takeout, it seems.”
I crinkle my nose. “Sorry. When I got your text that you were going to be late, I thought I’d try to make you dinner.” I glance at the wrinkled mess in the pan that reminds me of something I dissected in high school biology.
Using her finger, she turns my face towar
d her. “You are the sweetest man on the face of the planet. I’m so lucky to have you in my life. I love you.”
I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her close. “Oh yeah? Just how sweet am I?”
She bites her lip, and not in the sexy way.
She doesn’t seem to be picking up what I’m throwing down, so I save my sexy vibe for a more appropriate time and switch gears, giving her the concerned fiancé smolder. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”
She nods at the table. “Let’s sit.” As I stride toward the table, she walks down the hall.
“Where you going?”
She comes back with the bottle of Lagavulin 16 and a glass. She carries the bottle and glass to the table, fills the glass, then slides it across the table. It stops right in front of me.
“Wow, this is a three-fingers’ worth conversation? Good or bad?” I ask.
She sits across from me. “Jeb left me the team.”
“Huh?”
“In his will, Jeb left me controlling interest in the team.”
My eyes go wide. “No fucking way! That’s amazing! You’re the owner of the Niners! Holy shit!” I jump out of my seat and kiss her. “Can you believe it? After the year we had, now we’re having twins, getting married, and you’re the fucking owner of the Niners! It’s like Karma is finally coming around to our side.”
Since she retired, she’s been searching for the right path, and nothing has felt quite right because deep down, she’s always wanted to do something with football. I’m sure a psychologist would have a field day explaining why, but regardless of the reason, it’s what she’s always wanted. Owning the team gives her the best of every world. Not only that, but she’ll be fucking fantastic at it. I’m so happy for her.
Love To Love You (Love/Hate #3) Page 40