He smiles. “I’m glad you were here.”
I hug him, then turn to my mother. I don’t offer her a hug for the sheer fact that I don’t want to wrinkle her.
“Good to see you,” I say, although my tone doesn’t reflect an ounce of sincerity.
Truth is, the woman makes me angry. I’ve tried for years to get over the fact that she abandoned us all, but it hasn’t worked. I’ve even attempted therapy at my father’s urging. No psychologist in this world can convince me that what she’s done is okay. And I don’t see the need to pay one to try anymore.
Nor do I see any reason for me to be nice to her. In my twenty-nine years on this earth, the woman has not tried to be a mother in any way, shape, or form. If it hadn’t been for my father, my brothers and I would’ve been shipped off to boarding school at an early age just so she didn’t have to deal with us. As it was, we were lucky enough to have a great staff of people who’ve managed to raise us while my father did his best to put in what time he did have.
However, I’m not about to dwell on that now.
“I’ll talk to you on Monday,” I tell my father.
He nods, then hugs me again before leading me to the door.
“Please be careful, Dad,” I tell him. It’s not a subtle warning, but I know he’s not expecting subtle from me either.
“I’m good, honey. I promise.”
With one more hug, I practically run out of the house, grateful that another holiday is now out of the way and I can get on with my normal, practical life.
It’s what I do best.
Chapter 7
The moment I learned I would have the opportunity to sit down with Jason Stone, I instantly started jotting down a list of questions. Sure, I’ve got some that are no-brainers, but there are always questions specific to the athlete in the interview. However, after about ten minutes talking to Stone, I came up with one off the cuff:
“Why do you suppose the fans selected you as football’s bad boy?”
Stone’s response was automatic. “You got me. Because trust me, I’m very, very good.”
Well, there you have it.
—Excerpt from Sports Unlimited’s Bad Boys of Sports edition
Stone
“Hey, Stone,” Tyler calls out. “Can I have a minute?”
Pausing on my way to the dining hall, I tell Dowling I’ll catch up with him in a few before turning and heading back toward Tyler. “What’s up?”
“I’ve been asked to relay an invitation.”
I stare at Tyler blankly.
“Mr. Andrews would like you to attend a party at his house on Friday night.”
Ah, Christ. I should’ve known this was going to happen. I’ve been here for months, managed to keep my head down and my game face on with the full intention of avoiding this exact scenario. Unfortunately, I knew it would come sooner or later.
“What kind of party?” I know I should’ve simply said yes because it isn’t the norm for the owner of the team to invite you to his house, but like I said, this is something I’ve tried to avoid all my career. I’m not into the bureaucratic bullshit that comes along with playing football. Never have been. On the flip side, it’s unavoidable. I can accept it, even if I don’t like it.
“Just a casual thing.”
Casual, my ass.
“So”—I motion to the shorts and T-shirt I’m wearing—“cool if I wear this?”
Tyler smirks. “What d’ya say? You in?”
What can I say? It’s not like I can tell the guy no. Right? That would just be stupid. Although I’m not into shit like this, I know how to play the game—on both sides of the goal post. If I want to keep making money even after I’ve put on my cleats for the last time, I can’t make enemies with the people I work with. It’s not good for business.
I might be an asshole, but I know when to hold my tongue. Mostly.
With a resigned sigh, I nod. “Just tell me what time and I’ll be there.”
“Good answer. His daughter was the one to pass along the request, so I’ll be sure to tell her.”
I didn’t even know Aaron Andrews had a daughter. Sons, yeah. I’ve seen Will and Aaron Jr. quite often over the past few months, talked to them on a few occasions even. But never have I met a daughter. I mentally try to picture what a female offspring of Aaron Andrews might look like. I’m thinking short blond hair, stiff suit, ugly yet comfortable shoes. In other words, a female version of him.
“I’ll get all the details and pass them along,” Tyler adds. “Now go get some grub and I’ll talk with you later.”
I nod, then turn and head in the opposite direction.
I know I shouldn’t be internally whining about the fact I have to hang with the suits during my off time, still I can’t help but do so.
Being that I was an unrestricted free agent at the end of last season and the Giants weren’t willing to pony up the dollars necessary to keep me winning them championships, I find myself celebrating victories with the Dallas Wranglers. Oh, and in case it’s not obvious, Dallas was willing to deal in figures that have now launched me onto one of those highest paid players in the NFL lists. Yep. I’m there.
I probably owe them for that alone.
And I’m pretty sure my agent is going to spend the rest of his life kissing my ass because I’ve made him rich in the process. It didn’t take long at all for me to hop on a plane to Dallas. The best part was, I got to rub it in my older brother’s face. No longer is Jeremy Stone the highest grossing quarterback in the Stone family.
Considering my record, I knew I was worth more than the Giants were willing to give me. They were playing hardball, that’s all there was to it. I won them two consecutive Super Bowls prior to walking off their field and onto the Wranglers’ turf.
However, if you take my age into account, I can understand why neither team was looking to make a five-year deal. I wasn’t holding out for it either. In fact, I was looking for a one-year contract because I’m not ready to be put out to pasture just yet, but that doesn’t mean that I won’t be retiring at the end of the season and riding out some of these endorsement deals I’ve been working on lately.
Then again, it almost didn’t work out in my favor. When I arrived in Dallas for training camp, I found out they’d recruited a gunslinger rookie who’s been smoking hot for the past few years playing college ball. The kid continued his streak most of the way through the preseason, but then for whatever reason, he choked in the first regular season game.
However, the Dallas fans weren’t singing my praises when I was practically punted into the first game during the fourth quarter in an impossible attempt to recover a fourteen-point deficit. No, we didn’t win it, but I hung in there as long as I could.
By the end of that painful fifteen minutes, I wasn’t their hero, but I’ve since earned their respect and managed to change their tune.
You see, in the thirteen years of my career, I’ve won three Super Bowls with two different teams, and I’m looking to add another this year. I’ve got numerous divisional championship wins as well, but I’m certainly not above garnering a few more if it’s meant to be.
Hence the reason I landed back here in my hometown. It seems as though the place I’d wanted to start out is going to be the last place I hang my jersey. After this season, I fully intend to retire, but not before I take this haggard team all the way.
When I arrive in the dining hall, Dowling is waiting for me, a huge grin on his face.
“You causin’ problems again, Stone?”
“Always.”
“What was that about?”
I shake my head. “Nothin’ important.”
And that’s probably one of the biggest lies I’ve told as of late. I know what this party is, I even know why I’m b
eing invited. It’s no secret that the team is doing better than they have in years. In fact, we’re even favored to win the next three games, which, if that happens, will guarantee us a spot in the playoffs.
Now that we’re winding down the season—eleven games into a sixteen game season—the heat on me is intensifying. Not only to ensure that I keep playing the way that I am, but also talks about my future. Hell, my agent has called me three times in the past two days trying to schedule some time to meet up. I’ve declined every time, telling him that the only thing I’m worried about right now is playing. I don’t have the mental capacity to focus on anything further out than the next game.
If I could only convince everyone else of that, I’d be doing fine.
Unfortunately, I don’t see that happening, which means it’s a damn good thing I didn’t have plans for Friday night.
Savannah
“Is there anything else you need from me?” Nancy asks when she gets up from the chair across from my desk.
“Not at this time, no. But thanks for hanging in there. I know Leon can be a pain in the ass, but he’s worth it, I promise.”
“If you say so.” I could tell when she came into my office that Nancy was hanging by a thread. She’s new to the organization, fresh out of college, and dealing with the squirrelly football players can be a true test of a woman’s patience. I know, I’ve been dealing with them for years.
“Have a good night, Nancy.”
She nods and slips out of my office. I have just enough time to bring my MacBook to life when my cellphone rings. I glance at the screen, then smile.
“Hey, chickadee,” I greet my best friend. “What’s up?”
“Hopefully wine in about thirty minutes. You game?”
“Of course I’m game. My place or yours?”
“Definitely yours. Less chance of Jim showing up.”
Oh, boy. My best friend seems to be having boy problems. “Give me ten minutes to wrap things up here and I’ll see you there. I’ve got a couple of bottles on hand.”
“Perfect. See you then.”
Knowing that Allison doesn’t call like that unless it’s important, I do exactly as I promise. Within ten minutes, I’m packed up and heading out. The building is mostly empty at this time of night, which means I won’t risk running into someone who wants to talk about work.
“Hey, Savannah!”
Okay, I spoke too soon.
Stopping, I turn and see Tyler Lansing heading my way. When he catches up, he motions me to continue walking.
“I talked to Jason Stone and he accepted the invitation to your father’s party. Just thought I’d let you know.”
I nod. “Thanks. I’ll pass that along to Erika.” Thankfully, my father’s assistant handles all of that so that I don’t have to. “She’ll get him the details.” I smile over at him as we continue to move toward the doors. “Will you and Donna be there?”
“We’re hoping to be,” he says as he pushes the outer door open. “If she’s feeling up to it.”
“Well, I hope you can come.” I don’t bother to mention that I’m still in the process of finding a way out of this shindig. Especially now that Jason Stone will be attending. I’m not ready to face him yet. Maybe not ever.
“Same here. Mind if I walk you to your car?”
“Not at all, thank you.”
I have to admit, I like that this is such a tight-knit family unit. Some of the coaches, like Tyler, have been here for years, others come and go, but no matter what, regardless of where we stand in the season, we’re all still family.
When we get to my car, Tyler takes a step back. “Have a good night.”
“Thank you.” I open the car door. “And tell Donna I said hello.”
“Will do.”
With that, I’m off to save my best friend from herself.
It’s not often that I get to do that. Allison is one of those people with a level head. She doesn’t make rash decisions, but I know lately she has been feeling as though she’s getting older and she had always intended to have a husband and kids at this point in her life.
I can’t say the same for myself. For me, it’s been about getting a leg up in the organization where everyone knows my last name, where everyone expects that I’m getting a handout from my father rather than putting in the effort. That’s never been the case. In fact, I’ve probably worked twice as hard to avoid that stigma. It has paid off. I make more money than I know what to do with, and I do love what I do.
When I pull up to my townhouse a short time later, I find Allison sitting on my porch.
I smile as I climb out. She gets to her feet.
“He’s such a jackass,” she whispers when I approach.
“Oh, honey, I know. All men are jackasses.” Putting my arm around her, I lead her to the front door. “Now let’s go inside and drink your sorrows away.”
“It’s gonna take both of us,” she says with a chuckle.
“And you know I’m always up to the task.”
I love my best friend and I’ll always be here for her, no matter what.
And although I hate to see her hurting, I can’t deny that a night with a good friend and a few bottles of wine is always enough to keep me going.
Then again, I think she might know this, too.
Chapter 8
Stone
I’ll be the first to admit that this is the worst part of my job. I’m good at quite a few things—most of them involving either football or women—but sucking up to the big brass has never been my thing. In fact, I hate it.
Like, seriously fucking hate it.
For one, being here makes me feel like I’ve got two left feet and cotton for a tongue. Sure, I can rock the suit and tie, but I’d rather be decked out in shorts and a T-shirt. I did that once, showed up at some business function without the proper attire, and they made sure I never forgot what an embarrassment I was to the team. I still laugh about it.
However, I’m not laughing now.
There’s a big possibility that I’m going to say something to offend someone. My brother likes to say that I lack the decorum necessary to interact with the suits. I won’t argue with that. It’s not my favorite thing to do. I’m notorious for that shit.
And more than likely, someone’s going to say something and I’ll respond without engaging the damn filter from my brain to my mouth. It’ll happen when I’m surrounded by people who are going to have my social faux pas aired on some ESPN special. That shit has happened to me before, too. More than once. Ask my agent. That’s the very reason I used to have a PR firm who managed to put a spin on every time I fucked things up. It will happen again, I’m sure. It’s just a matter of time.
“Hey, Stone,” someone I don’t recognize greets in passing.
I nod and force a smile—which probably looks more like a sneer—as I slip by a couple of men talking animatedly about yesterday’s game. I manage to squeeze past them and make my way across the room without glancing down at my watch. Not easy to do considering I’ve been counting down the seconds until I can make my escape without being overly rude.
“If I were to predict, I’m gonna say Stone’s gonna take ’em all the way this year.”
“He’s damn sure lookin’ good out there,” someone adds. “If he can keep that arm up, we’ll be golden.”
“He havin’ a problem with his arm?” the first guy asks.
There’s no damn problem with my arm.
“Not that I’ve heard, but the guy plays like he’s still in his twenties.”
Because I’m in the same shape I was in in my twenties.
“He’s goin’ all the way. I can feel it,” the first guy says.
“I definitely like your line of thinking, David,” another man notes.
/>
“Did you see him out there yesterday? There’s no stopping that offense with him at the helm.”
Mentally rolling my eyes, I do my best to slip by the huddle of suits unnoticed. I’ve been listening to these absurd predictions all night and quite frankly, I’m worried these guys are going to jinx me. There’s nothing to say that this streak is going to continue. The universe could shift at any moment and turn the tide in someone else’s favor. It’s happened before.
No joke.
I guess it could very well be a joke. Or a dream.
Granted, I pray it’s neither of those things because, fancy shindigs aside, I’m having a fucking ball. I never imagined I would be back in my hometown, leading the team I’d always dreamed of playing for.
I have mad respect for Aaron Andrews. His loyalty to his players is not something you see every day. In fact, it’s probably come back to bite him in the ass in recent years considering the Wranglers haven’t seen the playoffs in far too long. So for him to bring me on board is something I can’t turn my nose up at.
However, the retirement thing isn’t something I’m going to ignore either. Although I’m not ready to hang up my pads, I do think it’s time for me to do something different. I’ve been lucky, making it through thirteen seasons with minimal injuries. I’ve got endorsement deals from Nike and Gatorade, plus my agent is working on deals with a couple of other big-name franchises that’ll keep me going for years. Perhaps I’ll go the route Peyton Manning went, buying a bunch of pizza franchises.
Or maybe not. Who knows?
Right now, the only thing that drives me is my need for one more win. Mostly to prove to the Giants that I was worth the extra money, that I am as good as people say that I am. Once I get this final championship, I’m more than happy to spend the rest of my time relaxing on the beach or living in a condo in Vegas.
So, yeah. I’m grateful that Aaron Andrews and the Dallas Wranglers decided to bring me into the fold. And I’m all in because what the hell do I have to lose? Not a damn thing. And, that attitude seems to be moving me in the right direction.
Bad Business Page 6