Beau
"I'm not stalking you, I swear," are the first words out of Rein's mouth as he approaches.
I'm surprised to see him, sure, but I don't for a minute think he's stalking me.
Younger me might have fantasized he was, but current me, no…
Okay, maybe a small part of current me wishes he was, too.
Especially with the way that charcoal suit and black turtleneck sit perfectly on him, the fabric fitted to his strong, athletic frame.
I may have said I never wanted to see him again, but Gilberton is a small town, so we're bound to run into each other.
Except…we're not in Gilberton, we're in Clovelly, two towns over.
"It's fine. What are you doing here, though?" I ask, since I am curious.
"I'm here for a meeting with Cory Tillford."
My eyebrows hitch. "That's weird. So am I."
Rein makes a surprised face, and then his gaze sharpens as it clicks for both of us at the same time.
I scoff under my breath. "That motherfucker."
Ten minutes later, Rein and I are sitting opposite Cory Tillford in a small conference room with paneled wood walls, a long polished table, and tall mullioned windows looking out over the lush green grounds.
The air is filled with the faint scent of old books and fresh coffee.
If a casting agent were looking to fill the part of 'eccentric old man who has more money than sense,' Cory would fit the bill perfectly with his wild silver curls, round tortoiseshell glasses, and bold paisley tie.
Dude looks like a living Guess Who tile.
When I found out he was selling the team after doing nothing with it for ten fucking years, I took it as a sign from the universe.
I'm going to buy the team and give the good people of Gilberton the minor league football team they deserve. Some people may look down their noses at the minor league, like it isn’t worth taking seriously, but let me tell you, after coaching it for thirteen years, I can promise you the players grind just as hard as the pros, care just as deeply, and mean as much to their community as any NFL roster ever could.
Now, I don't have anywhere near the money required to buy the team myself, but over the years, I've made a number of contacts who do. I've assembled a coalition of investors, and I'm confident I've got enough cash to make the winning bid.
Or, I was confident until discovering Rein is a potential buyer. His pockets run very, very deep. But I put that worry aside for now and tune in to what Cory has to say.
"I called you both in here today because I've received five formal bids to buy the Grizzlies," he says. "Your bids were the first and second highest."
Rein and I lock eyes for a beat. Great. I can see where this is heading. Cory is building a case for a bidding war, and fuck, how much more can I squeeze out of my investors?
"I could play you off against each other…" Cory steeples his fingers. "But I won't."
My chest tightens, breath stalling for a beat. "Go on."
"This isn't about money. I have more than enough. I know you do, too, Rein. And…" He shoots me an empathetic look because I'm the only one in the room who doesn't.
I brush it off like I always do. When you don't grow up with a lot, you realize you don't need a ton of money to be happy in life, just enough to get by.
And I've built a successful career for myself coaching the minor league, so I'm fortunate enough to have enough.
More than a lot of other hardworking folks, actually.
That's something I never take for granted.
Even if having a couple of extra mil lying around would come in mighty handy right about now.
"So if you don't intend on playing us off against one another, what is this about, Cory?" Rein asks.
"I'm prepared to sell you the team on one condition…" It's not clear which one of us he's addressing, but before I can clarify, he says, "You two have to own the team together."
One eye squints as I try to unpack that sentence. "What?"
"You heard me. I'm even happy to accept the lower of the two offers, but only if the two of you jointly own the team."
"Why?" Rein asks, his jaw pulsing.
"I have my reasons." Cory folds his hands on the desk. "That's the offer. Take it or leave it. You have twenty-four hours to come back to me with your decision."