Chapter 2
Vee
When Preston claimed my clan would be present, he was correct.
The suite was filled with familiar faces.
Uncle Darin was waiting with my dad. He was the husband of my aunt, my dad’s sister, Rachel.
After Grandpa Carroll’s death, Dad named Uncle Darin co-vice president of football operations, a title he held in conjunction with his wife.
Grandpa Carroll left the team plus half of his estate to Dad.
The other half of his estate went to his daughter, Aunt Rachel.
Before Grandpa’s death, Dad and Aunt Rachel were co-vice presidents until Grandpa named Dad CEO.
The Coopers franchise was the family business.
Two of my cousins, Grant and Phillip, and I were employed by the team.
The only family member to step away from the Coopers was Leigh, who chose to become a lawyer.
While she currently worked for the state defender’s office, Dad and Uncle Darin were actively campaigning for her to move away from public defending and set her sights on corporate law, specifically working for the Lexington Coopers.
Lip sent me a grin and a wink. As cousins, Lip, Leigh, and I were always close. Being five years older than us, Grant thought he was too mature to hang with us. Some would think that would change with time, but even today that age-difference chasm still existed, among other divides.
I didn’t think about Preston as I made my way toward the bar.
My stepmother was seated at a barstool with a gin and Diet Coke—her game-day tradition.
Daphne Hubbard had a flair for drama. My dad and she married when I was in middle school.
While she was ten years younger than my father, now with treatments that cost my father a fortune, she appeared closer to my age.
As I approached, I noticed that today she had a mix of brown and amber lowlights in her long blond hair.
Daphne was also wearing the Coopers amber.
However, licensed apparel wasn’t her thing.
No, she wore a flowy amber blouse, four-inch-heeled gold sandals, and tight white capris accented with gold jewelry.
I forced a smile. “Hey, Daphne.”
“Hi, Vee, glad you could make it.” She leaned back and scanned me up and down before pressing her lips together disapprovingly. “You look comfortable.”
My lips curled as I took her in. To say our relationship was like a mother and daughter would be inaccurate. As a preteen girl, I wasn’t exactly thrilled with a new stepmother and made my opinion known.
Through the years, we’d learned to coexist. Even with our truce, our styles were different.
Instead of high heels and flowing garments, I was more comfortable in blue jean capris, a Coopers t-shirt, and a pair of crocs.
“Oh, thanks. That was the look I was going for.” I lowered my voice.
“Do you know what Dad wants to talk to me about?”
Brent, the waiter behind the bar, came forward. “Miss Vee, would you like a cosmo?”
I shook my head. “I think I’ll stick with Diet Coke today.”
He smiled. “Late night?”
“Me?” I asked with feigned shock.
“Diet Coke coming up.”
Daphne responded to my question. “Darin and your dad are discussing a quarterback. He’s a veteran, been in the league for years.
Royce signed him to a one-year contract.
He’s going to play today’s game.” She shrugged.
“You know how it works. If they decide that he’s not worth the money, he’ll be off the roster and on the practice team before the preseason ends. ”
“And Dad wants to talk to me about him?”
She took a sip of her drink and nodded. “Your dad thinks you know him.”
My forehead wrinkled in question. “Who would I know that he doesn’t?”
“Oh, Reid knows him. It’s that Fin played for University of Kentucky while you were a student. You had that internship with the team.” She stirred her drink with the straw. “I think he only played at Kentucky for a short time. Then he went to Tennessee. Your dad’s curious about your thoughts.”
While I heard the first part of Daphne’s answer, the rest was lost to the growing static in my head. Fin. Griffin Graham. I was a sophomore at Kentucky, and he was a redshirt sophomore despite the two years he played at Kentucky State, a Division II school.
“Vee?”
I shook my head and began to reach for my Diet Coke. Instead, I lifted Daphne’s glass and took a hearty gulp. The gin tingled on my tongue and throat. Warmth filled my cheeks as I met her gaze and lowered the glass. “Oops.”
Taking back her glass, she offered, “Brent can add some gin to your glass.”
I picked up the cool tumbler of Diet Coke. “I think I better stay sober for this discussion.”
Her eyebrows rose. “You know Mr. Graham?”
“I did. But honestly, it’s been almost fifteen years. I’m sure my knowledge won’t be helpful.”
My heart sank as I looked up, seeing that Royce Beasley, the Coopers’ general manager, was now standing with Dad and Uncle Darin out by the tall counters at the top of the outdoor seating area.
Mr. Beasley had been around since before my dad became owner over twenty years ago.
In other words, he was older than dirt and wasn’t much into asking the opinion of others, especially those of us—Aunt Rachel and me—without a Y chromosome.
A quick glance found Preston with a beer in his hand, sitting on the half-round sofa near the gas firepit, talking with Hayden and Lip.
I steeled my shoulders and approached the three men beyond the open glass doors.
Sunlight filtered through the opened roof, giving the sensation of walking outdoors.
In reality, it was outside. In January, when the snow could be falling, this area would be a warm and comfortable seventy degrees.
With the retractable roof closed, it would also be inside.
Dad lifted his arm, resting it over my shoulders. “Hey, sweetie, your uncle Darin and I have a question for you.”
My position with the Coopers was vice president of stadium operations and marketing.
With my BA in sports management and an MBA, I anticipated that when I came to the Coopers, I was fully prepared.
It turned out that while an education was nice and the degree looked impressive on the office wall, it was no substitute for getting dirty in the trenches.
Over the last eight years, I’d learned more from my coworkers and assistants than I ever learned in a classroom.
For the record, stadium operations and marketing had nothing to do with football operations, Aunt Rachel, Uncle Darin, and Royce Beasley’s side of the Coopers.
In other words, as a VP, I had no say in which coaches or players the Coopers drafted, signed, fired, or interviewed.
With a smile pasted on my face, I asked, “What’s your question?”
Uncle Darin turned toward me with a light beer in his grasp. “Do you remember a player named Griffin Graham from when you were at Kentucky?”
“He goes by Fin,” Royce said.
“That name sounds familiar,” I replied, keeping my voice from giving away any emotion. “My internship didn’t start until my junior year. I think he had transferred by then.” I shrugged. “I don’t know where he went.” That was a lie.
“Tennessee,” Dad said. “Graham’s had a successful career. He was a second-round draft pick by Atlanta where he played out his rookie contract. Other than his rookie contract and six years with Green Bay, he’s moved around a lot.”
I scrunched my nose. “He’s getting old, isn’t he?” I knew his age, two years older than I—his time in Division II. Mentioning his age was subjective. A thirty-six-year-old man was hardly old as in geriatric. However, for football, he was approaching the end of his career.
Royce laughed. “At seventy-four, I’m old. Fin has aged like a fine wine.”
“Why are you asking?” I asked. “Is there a problem with Dennison?” The Coopers acquired Troy Dennison in last year’s draft. He was a first-round draft pick and a rookie from Alabama. Last year, he’d taken us to the AFC championship. We’d extended his four-year contract and tripled his salary.
“Dennison is good,” Dad said. “And Simpson is still strong. We’re discussing a third-string quarterback. The other teams will be gunning for Dennison after last year. We need reliable backups.”
I stifled a laugh, recalling Fin’s ambition for greatness. “You want to sign Fin as a third string?”
“Or second,” Royce said with a shrug. “We’ll see how the boy plays. I’ve been watching him this last week at practice. He used to play with Downing”—he turned to me—“our first-string tight end, when they were both at Green Bay.”
My fake smile returned. I wanted to interrupt Royce and inform him that I was aware who Downing was, and I could name the rest of the team and their positions if he wanted, with the obvious exception of a recent hire. Sometimes, it was exhausting wanting the respect others received so effortlessly.
We turned as Uncle Darin’s son and my cousin Grant joined our conversation. “Are you telling Vee about Fin?”
I met my cousin’s gaze. “Seems everyone knew about his hire except me.”
“But you know him, right? Lip and I were trying to remember. Didn’t you date him?”
His question was a kidney punch. “Who did you date in college, Grant? Do you remember every one of their names?” Grant was a confirmed bachelor. Given his position with the Coopers, my cousin was probably one of Kentucky’s most eligible bachelors.
Grant’s lips quirked. There was a twinkle in his eyes. “Define date.”
“See, I remember Griffin Graham. Dating?” I pursed my lips. “I don’t think that happened.”
Dad tapped my shoulder. “We can talk about this later. It’s about time for the national anthem.”
I smiled and looked out on the field. There were nearly one hundred high-school football players unfurling a mammoth flag that would dominate from twenty-yard line to twenty-yard line.
I’d been the one who worked with the different athletic offices to arrange these students’ opportunity to be on the national stage.
As the crowd cheered, Leigh came up behind me. “Can I steal you away?”
I spun, my smile blooming. “Please and thank you.”