37. Mason
37
MASON
“ M ason.”
After the game, I waited on the side of the field, near an exit that was off the path of everyone else. I was staying out of the way because a crowd started to form around me whenever I left my seat. It was only because it was my first time at a varsity game. It’d die down over time, but tonight, I caught the looks on my kids’s faces. They didn’t want pro-athlete dad. They wanted their dad tonight. Sam needed to stick around and talk to David and Malinda. Nolan kept insisting her and Nash needed to go with the grandparents for the night and weekend so I made myself scarce. We were flexible. We generally let them. The only time we wouldn’t was if they got in trouble, but that rarely happened with the twins.
Sam’s stepbrother was heading my way as the teams filtered past. Mark had his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans, his shoulders hunched forward.
I moved farther to the side, ducking my head as a few of the visiting team’s players seemed to notice me. A couple recognized me, cursed, and shot forward into their locker room.
I wasn’t close to Mark.
It just never happened over the years, and I wasn’t sure why. He’d stuck around in the area, getting his real estate license a while back. Turns out, he was good at selling houses. He’d helped us with ours. He also owned and managed a few apartments in Fallen Crest and another town south of here.
He and Cass ended their relationship, and it looked more and more like it was going to be official this time. Evidently he’d been drowning himself in alcohol, and he’d been taking home a string of one-night stands.
“You’re sober?”
He stopped abruptly a few yards away. “What’d you say?”
“You heard me. I keep getting reports every night you stumble home.” I shook my head. “Sam’s worried about you.”
“Oh.” The fight left him as he rubbed his forehead, wincing. “I didn’t think about that. I’ll be fine. Just the usual post break-up thing. And yes, I’m sober.”
The crunch of footsteps came from behind us. Mark shifted to the side, revealing a giant fucking NFL offensive lineman that I’d always thanked my stars that I personally didn’t go head to head against Brett Broudou. I ran far and wide for the most part, and he liked to try to make my quarterback eat grass.
“Surprised to see you here tonight.” I spoke first, holding out my hand.
He gave Mark a nod and met my hand with his as he joined us. He gestured to the guest bleachers. “Stevie asked Billie to come, so we sat over there.”
That’s right. His niece attended the same school as Maddy. “Billie’s staying incognito?” She must’ve been. Brett and I both had celebrity status, but if he showed up with his wife, there was no contest. She got all the attention. People were obsessed with serial killers, and Billie’s story was still a hot topic.
Brett winced, the movement twisting his giant neck. “Like I said, she wanted to be here for Stevie. All this attention will go away.”
I understood what he was saying. Some of the attention his wife received wasn’t positive, which wasn’t anything she deserved. She seemed shy, skittish. Brett was crazy about her.
Mark snorted. “People are…” He trailed off as the Fallen Crest Academy team left the field, moving past us. The coaches were heading our way as well.
Sam had mentioned that Nash’s coach wanted to talk to me, but when the varsity head coach saw me, he came right for me. “Kade.” He held his hand out, looking harried, a little distracted. The team had lost by a field goal, and they shouldn’t have. They were better than the other team. But it had come down to a few plays that went the other team’s way.
David used to coach this team, back when we were teens. When he retired, from what I knew, the head coach position went to this guy.
I shook his hand. “Coach Ravenry. Tough game tonight.”
He just grunted in response. He shook Brett’s hand and Mark’s. “Mark, always good to see you. Patricia wouldn’t be happy with me if I didn’t pass along that she’s got a couple friends she’d like to introduce to you, when you’re ready.”
Mark’s head jerked back. “Ah. Yeah. Sorry, Coach. I—well, we’ll see. It’s new. We were together a long time.”
Coach Ravenry nodded. “There’s one or two teachers here a guy would be lucky to get a shot with. When you’re ready, let me know. My wife would love to host a get-together at the house. She’s used to cooking to feed an entire football team, so we’d have plenty of food. She likes wine and boardgames. Her latest obsession is playing Sequence. You say the word. She’s looking for an excuse to throw a party.” He turned to Brett and me. “You’ll both be invited, with your significant others as well.”
Brett nodded. “Thanks, Coach. I’ll keep it in mind.”
“You do that.” His focus turned to me. “Coach Billersman is wanting to talk with you, but since you’re here, I thought I’d tackle this head-on right now. You got a worry if we pull your boy to dress for varsity?”
I raised my eyebrows. “Asking a JV player to dress on the side isn’t all that unusual. What are you really planning for him?”
He gave me a long consideration, his eyes narrowing before he spoke. “Not going to bullshit around it. Your boy’s good. Real good. We’ve been eyeing him since he started, but he’s in eighth grade. If I start playing your boy on varsity, other parents are going to have a say.”
I nodded. Nash would be taking playing time a senior wanted, or a junior, or sophomore, or fuck, even a freshman. I got it. Politics of high school football unfolded off the field more than on it and often involved parents, not the kids.
More players were leaving the field. Most continued past us, but a few slowed to a stop.
“I don’t have a personal thought. He’d love to play. We’re proud of him. If you’re worried about someone’s negative opinion, I don’t care about that. But it’s my boy. His mom and I will have a conversation with him, see if he’s got a particular opinion one way or another.”
Coach raised his chin, giving me another long look. “I won’t hold back. I wouldn’t be starting him, but he’d see a lot of playing time. He’s got speed that will be an asset to our team. There’s no way around that.”
I looked back at a group of players lingering. They were some of the guys who’d been in Moreaux’s basement when we crashed their party. Two of them held their helmets but one, Manning, kept his on. Steele Manning. He’d been sitting on the couch with Maddy. I also noticed him looking at us a few times during the game. He might’ve been looking at someone else in the bleachers around us, but I had the feeling we were the focus of his attention.
Coach Ravenry noticed them too and dipped his chin to me. “Let me know. We can have another conversation about it, if you’d like. Boys!” He motioned to them with his clipboard. “Get in the locker room. Let’s go. We’re not out here having a gossip session.”
Another man joined the players, clapping a hand on Beltraine Moreaux’s shoulder.
Well… Shit. It was Phillip Moreaux, Beltraine’s father.
He ignored what their coach just said, grabbing the front of Manning’s helmet and jerking him around.
Phillip Moreaux was a few years on the other side of fifty, but the older he aged, the younger he cheated. He was loud, pompous, and had an ego that was going to be a problem.
He’d come to Dad’s funeral, and I’d met him again at a few of our follow-up meetings. The board members needed to be reassured I could step into my dad’s place and the company would be fine. The company was fine, except for whoever had lied to my dad and Moreaux’s recent movements. Because as I was staring at him now, the hunch he was going to make a play for the company was coming back to me.
“Hey, boys!” He jerked the Steele kid forward, shaking him before letting him go. He laughed loudly, pounding on Axel Johannson’s shoulder pads, then another kid’s before focusing on his son. “How are you feeling about that loss? Huh?” He shoved him back. As Beltraine stumbled, his dad advanced. He shoved him again, taunting, “Think you should be proud of that game? You lost. There ain’t nothing for you to be proud about.” His voice took on a menacing note as he shoved his kid a third time.
This time, Beltraine fell.
He stayed down.
The kid and his friends did nothing. They were taking it.
Brett glanced my way. I was aware of Mark watching me too.
The coach wasn’t doing anything.
“Get up. We aren’t losers in this family. And you.” He rounded on Manning, grabbing his helmet’s cage. “You’re staying at my place. Your sister is there on the weekends. You want to keep staying, you’re going to start earning your keep. You hear me? Starting with tonight. You lost tonight. That means no party. You and the others are going to meet me behind the shed. You can learn how my old man conditioned me never to lose a game. I’m going to whip you boys into shape.”
He jerked the kid again, and I was done.
I moved in a flash.
He began to shake that Steele kid again.
I warned, “You don’t let go of that kid right now , I’m going to remove your hand for you.”
He paused.
The others went rigid, and a tense silence fell over the group.
“Excuse me?” He looked my way, letting go of the helmet.
“Boys,” their coach said gruffly. “Get in the locker room.”
Phillip looked the coach’s way. “They aren’t moving. I’m not done with them.”
“You’re done for the night, Phil,” Coach Ravenry replied. “You’ve been drinking. We don’t want a repeat of our last loss. Word has a way of getting around.”
Phillip Moreaux took an intimidating step forward. “You threatening me, Conrad?”
First name basis here. I was noting that.
Sometimes I detested small towns. Being a big fish in a small pond gave some guys an ego they wouldn’t have if they were a small fish in a big pond.
When Ravenry gave me a look, I knew this was one of those parents who’d have an opinion about Nash playing varsity.
The boys were still standing around. I motioned to them. “Go inside. Listen to your coach.”
They took off. Moreaux’s kid only looked back once.
Ravenry stayed.
“You too, Coach,” I told him. “Moreaux and I have some other business to discuss.”
With a nod, he left, but he moved at a normal pace. He didn’t hurry, which made me wonder how the past interactions tended to go down between him and Moreaux.
Moreaux made a move to follow them.
I held up a hand and he hit it, bouncing back. “Not you.”
I turned back to see that Brett and Mark moved in, circling him.
He looked around, scoffing. “What do you think you’re going to do to me? You’re new here, boy. You’ve been off. Playing under the big lights, but you don’t know how things are handled here.”
“I know you’re not going to lay a hand on any of those kids again, not how you just did.”
He scoffed again, a wildness in his eyes that he was having a hard time hiding. “And here I thought we were going to be friendly. I welcomed you to town. Came to your father’s funeral. Introduced you to the other board members. How do you repay me for my kindness?” His eyes went mean. “You think you can get between me and my kid?”
“When it’s to hurt, not help, fuck yeah I am.” I moved toward him. “Not a hardship on my end. Every time I see you, I tend to want to punch you. You going to give me that excuse now?”
That mean glint grew before it shifted to calculating. He smirked, shifting back on his feet. “You know, I’ve heard a rumor that Kade Enterprises is struggling.”
Fine. We could go that direction. “You heard wrong.”
“Our stock plummeted the day after your daddy kille—” He choked and stopped speaking, his voice strangled because I had a grip on his shoulder, a painful grip, and I walked him into the side of the equipment shed. I hadn’t meant to accelerate things to this point so quickly, but he was about to talk about my dad.
I glanced at Brett. “I think he needs help standing.”
He grunted, staring down at Moreaux. “He was stumbling all over the place. Intoxicated at a public event. Good thing he has us. To help him out.”
I deadpanned, tightening my grip on him. “That’s us. Regular saints here.”
With the grip I had on him, he couldn’t use one entire side of his body. As he was still registering that he couldn’t lift his arm or move his leg, I caught the shadows of Brett and Mark blocking us from view.
“He needs to stand a little, Mase,” Mark pointed out.
I eased up my grip, just a bit. “Our stock bounced back the next day, you dumb fuck. You’re going to shut your mouth about the company.”
Moreaux glared at me, but he remained still. He looked at me as if I’d offended him. I knew his kind. They’d been at the top of the hierarchy all their lives.
Here I come—a name he knows, but I’m new money. I’m an athlete. I’ve got fame and power, but in his mind, I can’t match him. Can’t equal him. No. I’m just a football player.
“You think you’re top dog, huh? No one messes with you. Poker with the district attorney. That sort of thing.”
“I think I got friends in places that you have no idea about.” He lifted his chin up.
My grin, if that’s what it could be called, was cold. His eyebrows pulled together.
“You think I’m not aware of the calls and meetings you’ve been having with the other shareholders?”
His sneer faltered, slightly.
“You think I don’t know the shit you have on those members? That I don’t have that information as well? The photos. The blackmail material.”
His sneer faded entirely.
“Or that I don’t know about the secret meeting you’re going to call early Monday morning with the agenda of finalizing those shares and making a move to force me and my brother from the company?”
His smarmy tanned skin went pale underneath, but then it started to get red. That color spread.
I lifted a thumb, seeing a white print there.
“You don’t know shit. And even if you did, it’s too late—”
“You’re so wrong that you look stupid.” This guy was coming for my family. He was going to regret that.
He stopped struggling, but he still seethed. “You don’t kno—” He couldn’t get out anymore.
I tightened my hold and he dropped down a couple inches. He was folding under my grip.
“Does Johannson know you’re fucking his wife?” Axel’s dad was also a shareholder.
He went still. “You’re bluffing.”
“I could tell him I know what sort of lingerie she wears, that I bet she hasn’t worn it for him in a while. Course, maybe she’s got more than one set, but I’m betting he’ll go straight home to look through her drawers himself. He’d be so angry. He won’t stop to consider that he’s cheating too. Or that he probably cheated first. He’ll just care that his wife is fucking you, and moments earlier you had the balls to blackmail him .”
“You’re lying. This is all a massive bluff.”
“I got pictures.” I smirked. “None of the sales have gone through. You think he’ll still sell after I show him those pictures?”
He scowled at me. “I don’t think you know what you’re doing. This is the big leagues. We don’t play around with empty threats. We deal with lawyers and—”
I stepped back, a part of me wishing I could put bruises all over this guy. “Yeah, yeah. You give the cops a good annual donation. You golf with a local judge who’s interested in running for public office, and you’ve promised him a nice sum of money for his campaign. Christ, you’re annoying. You think I don’t know all of that?”
He fell quiet. Finally.
I glanced around. We’d drawn a fair amount of attention, but Brett and Mark hadn’t moved. Sam had come over, but she stood to the side, her back to us. She was keeping watch on who might be recording us or paying attention to us that shouldn’t be.
“I was going to wait until Monday to crash your party. I was going to release all the shit I know, and I was going to keep it at the office. But then you swagger up to me, acting like we’re bros at my dad’s funeral. You come over here, putting hands on kids.” I looked at him a moment. “Here’s what we can do. You withdraw everything. And you’re going to sell your shares. I want you out of the company. You do that, and I won’t destroy you. There’s my offer. And in the meantime, you’re not going to shove your kid around, or any kid. You’re not going to grab a player by his helmet and use that to jerk him around—not unless you’re okay with someone like Broudou doing it back to you.”
Brett lifted his chin up, interjecting, “I’d love to do that.”
I kept on, “I don’t think you’d want the shareholders to hear about a board member’s ethical violation. We do have that pesky morals clause in every contract.”
He glared at me, pressed against the shed and rubbing his shoulder. He was having a hard time even standing. But I didn’t see the fear that should’ve been there. I sighed. None of this penetrated him. He was going to go home, drink some more, rage, and probably plan to hurt someone. I was looking at the face of a guy that would hire muscled men to find me in a dark parking lot.
Shit. Had it been me that brought us to this point? I had put hands on him.
Then again, when he shoved his kid and jerked Manning around by his helmet, I saw red. If he was doing that in front of witnesses, what was he doing behind closed doors?
Those were the kids that he—what did he say? He wanted them to meet him behind the shed?
What did that mean?
But I had another thought.
“Kai Bennett says hello,” I told him, watching intently.
He frowned. “Who?”
There’d been no flash of recognition. Nothing. No fear. No reaction at all. He didn’t know him. That meant he wasn’t the one who killed my dad.
He just jumped on an opening he saw to take advantage.
Still, for that alone, I was going to destroy him.