Chapter 31
Fin
Istared up at the front of the building on West Vine.
The Vine Club bar was where Zane and I had drinks a few weeks ago.
When some of the players wanted to get together tonight, I recommended this place.
The reason for the suggestion was that I hoped the same thing would happen as what happened after the Broncos game.
I hoped for the chance to run into Vee, to talk to her outside of Maker’s Mark or Crystal Light.
It had been three weeks since I fucked everything up with her.
Every time I saw her, I remembered the way she looked out on her balcony. I saw the tears and pain in her eyes. The things I said about my parents were needless and spiteful. The Vee I knew wouldn’t have done anything like I accused her of.
What do they say?
Hindsight is twenty-twenty.
For a few minutes during our argument, I wasn’t Griffin Graham, the NFL veteran quarterback. I was the twenty-two-year-old Fin who was hurt and angry. Shit, Troy was only a year older than I was when Vee and I were together. I called him a kid; the same description applied to me at that age.
What I wanted was a chance to speak with her—without the kid from fourteen years ago doing the talking.
She didn’t have to accept an apology, but I wanted her to hear it.
Just because I didn’t deserve the chance to talk to her again didn’t mean I didn’t want it.
Today during the fourth quarter, I found myself watching her instead of the game.
She was a vision, standing farther down the sideline.
Vee said that at University of Kentucky she wanted to be Vee without being Reid Hubbard’s daughter or the Coopers’ heiress. Would I have treated her differently if I’d have known her association?
That question was the one that kept me awake at night because in hindsight, I think she was right. I would have been starstruck. Because watching her passion and intensity this season on the sidelines fucking made me starstruck.
Vee Hubbard was everything she tried not to be.
She was Reid Hubbard’s daughter and the heiress to the Coopers.
Her fervor for the team and the players was on display as she intently watched every play.
The way she called each player by name endeared her to the team and coaches.
Vee lived and breathed for the Coopers. I was the only one who had the privilege of knowing just Vee, the water girl on Kentucky’s sidelines, and I fucked it all up—again.
As I stepped inside and made my way toward the Vine Club bar, Troy waved. He and Jamir and Dijon, two of our running backs, were sitting at a high-top table beyond the archway.
“Over here,” he called.
For a Sunday evening, the Vine Club was packed. Coopers jerseys and amber shirts were at nearly every table.
“Glad you got us a table,” I said as I stood by the fourth chair.
The one they left for me had me facing into the bar, not out to the common area where I saw Vee a few weeks ago.
I considered asking someone to change seats, but I couldn’t come up with a good excuse.
Instead, I settled in the chair provided.
Unlike the fans around us, the four of us were dressed for a night on the town. After regularly seeing these guys in jerseys and covered with sweat, the refined editions were a nice change of pace.
Dijon spoke, his voice carrying through all the background noise. “I made reservations down the street at the steakhouse for eight o’clock. I’m pretty sure after today, I could eat an entire cow.”
A server made her way over to the table. “Can I get you a drink?” she asked me.
“I’ll have a Kentucky Bourbon Barrel Ale.”
“Anyone else?”
The other three men shook their heads. Their glasses were still mostly full.
“I’ll be back,” she said.
“What did you think about Cody’s play today?” Troy asked.
I nodded. “He did well.”
Troy agreed. “I’m so fucking ready to get back out there.”
“It will be good to have you back. What are the trainers saying?”
“I can resume practice after next week’s Cardinals game.”
“Raiders?” I asked, knowing it was our last game before the bye week.
Troy lifted his glass. “I’d put money on it being you. I don’t expect to see playing time until after the bye.”
“But you’ll be practicing?” Dijon asked.
“Damn right.”
The server delivered my beer. I lifted it in the air. “Here’s to having you back out there with us.”
Everyone lifted their drinks and we clinked them together. We spent the next forty minutes doing what we would do tomorrow in our offense meeting, dissecting the game play by play.
I pulled my phone from the pocket of my sports jacket. “Hey,” I said. “Not to be rude. I just remembered. Zane’s game is about to start. I send him a text before each game. It’s good luck.”
The table of men laughed. “The Vikings will need all the luck they can get for tonight’s game.”
“Does he send you one too?” Jamir asked.
“Every game. Even when I was in LA and never played.”
Troy replied, “I bet they regretted that today.”
I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought the same thing. Throwing three touchdowns against the team that kept me on the bench felt pretty fucking fantastic. Looking down, I realized I’d missed a text message. My breath caught in my throat as I saw the name: Vee. I opened the message.
“HI. I AM SORRY. NOT ABOUT THE GIRLS IN TENNESSEE. I’M SORRY I NEVER TOLD YOU WHO I WAS, WHO DAD WAS. I REMEMBERED WHAT YOU SAID HAPPENED IN THE TENNESSEE LOCKER ROOM. EVERY WORD.”
The timestamp said she’d sent the text about twenty minutes ago. I looked around the table. “I hate to bail on you for dinner.”
“Oh man…” Troy and Dijon said together.
“Something came up.” I waved down our server. “I’ll take the check.”
“No, man,” Troy said. “I got this.”
“You can pay for everyone’s steaks.”
Dijon and Jamir nodded their approval.
After I paid for our few drinks, I bid my teammates so long, saying I’d see them all tomorrow morning. Making my way through the crowd and out of the Vine Club bar, I read Vee’s text again.
“EVERY WORD?” I sent back.
Her response came at once. “EVERY ONE.”
I replied. “CAN YOU TRUST ME?”
“I WANT TO TRY.”
Instead of texting, I hit the green phone icon.
It rang once, twice, three times. I was ready for it to go to voicemail when Vee answered.
“Fin.”
“Come down to the first floor or call the concierge. I’m here.”
“You’re here? In the building?” she asked.
“I’ll explain after I kiss you.”
“I’ll call the concierge. Don’t make me wait.”
“I’d be up there now if I had a damn keycard.”
“I’ll see you soon.” The line went dead.
As I approached the resident concierge desk, I saw the young kid talking on the phone. He looked up, his eyes landing on me and a smile budding on his lips.
“…yes, Ms. Hubbard. He’s here now.” He nodded. “Right away. Goodbye.” He looked up at me. “To confirm…your name?”
“Griffin Graham.”
“And you’re here to see…?”
“Maeve Hubbard.”
He pushed a few buttons on a machine and pushed a keycard into it. The keycard popped out.
“This is a multi-use keycard, per Ms. Hubbard. It can only be canceled by you or her.”
I took it from his grasp. “Multi-use?”
“Yes, Mr. Graham. Have a nice night.”
I stared down at the card and back to the kid. “Thank you. I think the chances of a nice night have greatly improved.”