Chapter 20
Vee
My grip of the clipboard tightened as Coach Pratt’s speech directed toward Fin came through my headphones. We did believe in Fin. That said, my protective nature thought about his mostly healed rib and worried about his safety.
My gaze went up to the roof and beyond as I sought reassurance.
I wasn’t certain who I was asking. I wasn’t raised with a strong religion or faith.
Dad used to say he wished there were times he could talk to Grandpa Carroll.
Peering upward toward the family suite, I found the invisible recipient of my search.
No one could hear me speak. “I wish I could talk to you, Dad. Please look out for Fin and the Coopers.”
The Coopers’ kick-return team grounded the ball on the Colts’ twenty-two-yard line. Our offense was in a huddle. My ears filled with the call coming from Coach Pratt. “Pistol strong right clamp fake nineteen under at Y slide F wall keep left.”
I didn’t need to refer to my notes as the offense lined up in I formation. While I couldn’t hear Fin’s full cadence, with our home crowd respectfully quiet, I heard Fin’s deep voice.
“Set, hut!”
Our center, Matt Spencer, snapped the ball.
Fin danced backward reading his progressions. The O-line was holding. I held my breath as Fin faked a pass to running-back Dijon Ortiz and reared his arm back. The ball sailed through the air.
Caught by tight end JD Downing.
The Big Hurt’s voice echoed throughout Crystal Light, “That’s a first down for our Lexxx-ington Coopers.”
No longer quiet, the crowd was on their feet.
My attention went back to Fin who was adjusting his shoulder pads. I nibbled my lower lip, ashamed I watched the ball and catch instead of watching him. Looking up at the jumbotron, I waited for a replay.
As soon as the ball left Fin’s hand, a Colts defensive tackle knocked him to the ground.
My thoughts went back to the meeting yesterday with, well, everyone.
Coach Tilson had the ability to do whatever he wanted as coach. The only person he needed to speak with was our general manager, Royce Beasley. Nevertheless, our head coach addressed the executives as well.
“Dennison is young and healthy. He’s damn good,” Tilson said. “He’s our ticket to the Super Bowl. Nothing against Graham or Simpson. We need Dennison in weeks sixteen, seventeen, and beyond. Drew and I talked about it. We plan to sit Dennison for tomorrow’s game.”
“What?” Grant asked.
“The Colts are imploding,” the coach said. “We all know what happens when a good team suddenly faces insurmountable adversity. Dennison doesn’t need to be the target of a rogue pissed-off defensive player who could cause him a season-ending injury.”
I swallowed. My instinct was to protest Fin being that target. A quick glance from Aunt Rachel and I knew my response needed to be as owner, not as the person romantically involved with Griffin Graham.
“Royce?” Aunt Rachel asked, reminding me of Dad. He knew when to defer to others.
“I’m in agreement.”
Uncle Darin lifted a gray brow. “Vee?”
I straightened my neck and shoulders. “The experts have spoken. Are we thinking of Graham or Simpson?”
“Graham,” Tilson and Pratt said together.
“He has more play time,” Tilson added.
“We don’t want any of our players injured,” I said. “I trust our Coopers’ coaching staff.”
The memory caused me to miss the snap.
Fin shuffled his feet and passed the ball to wide receiver Ramel Patel who ran for seven positive yards.
In my ears, Pratt called for a draw play.
The ball was snapped. Fin looked as if he were going for a long pass. The defense took the bait. Fin handed the ball to fullback Treshawn Morgan and Morgan ran for five yards.
“Another Lexxx-ington Coopers first down.” The announcement once again brought the fans to their feet.
By the fourth quarter with Fin as QB, the score was 28–3.
After a four and out from the Colts, Pratt sent Simpson onto the field in Fin’s stead. I took a relieved breath, realizing that Fin was out of harm’s way. Like a well-oiled machine, Simpson marched our players down the field using as much clock as possible.
With less than two minutes in the final quarter, the Coopers were in the red zone, on their own four-yard line, second down and goal.
The ball was snapped. Simpson shuffled backward, reading his progressions.
The Colts were ready for a short play. Their nickelback broke through our offensive line, sacking Simpson.
My face contorted as Crystal Light stadium filled with gasps and flags flew. I looked up at the jumbotron. The defender hit Simpson before Cody’s back foot was planted. A collective groan filled the air at the replay showing Simpson’s ankle in an unnatural twist.
Our medical team and Coach Tilson ran out onto the field.
Simpson had his helmet off, sitting up, and holding his ankle. His expression was a combination of pain and anger.
“Time-out on the field,” the head official announced.
Through my earphones, I heard Pratt talking. A quick glance and I saw Fin standing at his side. “…putting you back in. Tempers are hot out there. Take it easy. We can settle for a field goal.”
The fans and players cheered as Simpson waved from a stretcher and was taken off the field.
“After review,” the official said, “there’s no penalty. The sack resulted in a six-yard loss. The ball is on the Coopers’ ten-yard line. It’s third and goal.”
Our offense huddled. Once on the field, they lined up in split formation. The ball was snapped. Fin handed off the ball to Morgan. Morgan tossed it back to Fin who threw it to JD, wide open in the end zone.
Flea flicker.
“Touchdown, Coopers.”
After the fireworks and extra point, our punting team sent the ball deep into Coopers’ territory. The score was now 35–3. Coach Brown told the defense not to let up. He also said it wasn’t the time for heroics.
The Colts made one first down and threw a Hail Mary pass. Cornerback Malik Johnson read the pass and intercepted the ball. Coopers’ ball. Fin only needed to take a knee and the clock was out.
Coopers won.
After congratulating our team as they entered the locker room, I made my pilgrimage to the family suite.
While facing everyone up there left a sour taste in my mouth, I felt I owed my presence to Dad.
I was the owner of the Coopers and wouldn’t let a few members of my family keep me from seeing those I cared for.
A member of the Coopers’ security team escorted me to and up the private elevator. The security guard stationed by the door opened the family suite without asking for my name. I guessed that’s what happened when the whole world was getting used to seeing me on the sideline.
“Vee,” Leigh called as I entered. “How is Simpson?”
“Broken ankle.”
Leigh wrinkled her nose. “Ouch. Out for the rest of the season.”
“I haven’t heard the final word. It depends on how severe of a break. Coach Pratt suggested anywhere from six to twelve weeks.”
“How’s Simpson?” Uncle Darin asked, joining our conversation.
“Ankle’s broken,” I said again. I turned to Grant, sitting at the bar and looking in our direction. “I guess it’s a good thing we kept both backups.”
He lifted his glass in a cheers motion and took a drink. The amber liquid meant my cousin wasn’t in the mood for conversation.
I turned to Leigh. “Who peed in Grant’s Cheerios?”
She tugged my arm. “Come, let’s get you some food. I told the stadium staff to leave the buffet out for you.”
Following her lead, I let my cousin guide me to the buffet. While I hadn’t thought about food throughout the game, the growling from my stomach let me know I was hungry. After all, I’d only had coffee and a donut this morning. Fin wasn’t home making his usual breakfast.
Home?
Am I honestly thinking of my home as ours?
Leigh spoke softly as I put together an avocado, tomato, and cucumber sandwich.
“I don’t know what his problem is,” she said as we walked over to a standing table. “The only thing that’s different today than a normal game day is that instead of Daphne arriving with Grant, Joe Eads brought her to the stadium.”
I looked up and around, spotting Dad’s attorney, Joe Eads, out on the balcony with Royce Beasley and Daphne. “Is he jealous?” I asked.
Leigh pressed her lips together. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s pissed.” She lifted her hands in surrender. “I don’t want to know what goes on behind closed doors.”
I kept my voice low. “You haven’t told anyone about Bre, have you?”
“Not about the secret you told me. I spoke to Marc, her public defender, about the charges she’s facing.
I told him I read the court’s filing and didn’t mention you.
He told me that from what he’s been able to learn, the police were satisfied with a death resulting from a traffic accident, but the trucking company’s insistence that there was more to the story made them dig deeper.
Marc thinks that it’s the romantic connection between Bre and Uncle Reid that’s the underlying factor that led to Bre’s arrest.”
“She’s a scapegoat.”
Leigh shrugged. “Statistically, when women commit murder, they’re more likely to target familiar individuals. Intimate partners are most often their victims. And as a rule, women use poisoning or asphyxiation more often than weapons.”
“Bre’s case fits those statistics.” I shook my head. “I’m not convinced.”
“Aunt Daphne is. She’s ready to have Bre hanged in the city square.”
I scanned the room, confirming Daphne’s presence was still outside. “Did Marc mention the pregnancy?”
“Not to me. If he knows, he’s keeping client confidentiality.”
“He knows.” I took a bite of my sandwich. After swallowing, I added, “Bre said the jail did a pregnancy test. Who would have access to that information?”
Leigh bit her lower lip. “It should be confidential, but honestly, her pregnancy could be the worst kept secret in Fayette County. I guess it’s good that it isn’t a top headline. Someone must be keeping it quiet.”
“A while back, Bre asked about something from her desk. I spoke to the head of Coopers’ security. Mr. Phelps told me that everything had been turned over to the police. Bre’s attorney tried to see her belongings and was told they were being held as evidence.”
Leigh cocked her head. “Is there something special she wants?”
I nodded and spoke in a barely audible whisper. “A diamond engagement ring she claims Dad gave her.”
“Shit. Tell her to have Marc ask for a verified inventory. It should have all the items listed. She won’t be able to get any of them. Later in discovery, she and Marc should be able to inspect them.”
Royce and Uncle Darin came our way, silencing our conversation.
“Graham looked good,” Royce said. “He’s a steady backup.”
Uncle Darin smirked. “Convenient that he was taken out of the game before Simpson was sacked.”
I lifted my brow. “Convenient? I don’t see how a broken ankle ranks as convenient.”
“I’m just saying, if Graham would have been in—”
“You watched the replay?” I asked, interrupting. “Simpson didn’t have his back foot set. The hit was clean. We have no way of knowing if Graham would have had his foot set.”
Uncle Darin lowered his voice. “Seems to me that there are perks when you’re involved with the owner of the team.”
“Dad,” Leigh chastised. “Vee’s not clairvoyant. She can’t predict the future.”
I squared my shoulders. “I didn’t put Cody Simpson in the game. I don’t make calls on the field. I simply observe and learn. The decision to put Simpson in the game came from the coaching staff.” I decided to change the subject. “Why is Joe Eads here?”
Uncle Darin turned toward the glass partition. “Daphne invited him. They’ve been spending time together working on Reid’s estate.”
Time together?
Dad’s been gone, what, six weeks?
I clenched my teeth. “What kind of work? Joe said the estate is all mine.”
“Inventory. Cataloging.” Uncle Darin shrugged. “Ask them.”
My eyes went to Leigh and back to my uncle. “Okay.”
Leaving my unfinished sandwich on a small plate on the tall table, I walked toward the balcony.
“A cosmo, Ms. Vee?” Brent asked from behind the bar.
“That sounds good. I’ll be right back.” With the roof closed, there was no temperature change as I stepped out onto the balcony.
“Vee,” Daphne said, a gin and diet cola in her grasp. “How is that poor quarterback?”
“Cody Simpson,” I replied. “They’re doing more tests, but it seems as though his ankle is broken. If that’s the case, most likely, he’ll be out for the rest of the season.”
“Oh, that’s too bad.”
I feigned a smile and turned to Joe. “How are things going with Dad’s estate?”
He and Daphne exchanged looks.
The small hairs on my arms rose like lightning rods. “I’m sorry. Did I miss something?”
Joe let out a breath. “Vee, you’re going to find out soon enough. Tricia Loften should be notified by the court tomorrow. Daphne is contesting Reid’s last will and testament.”
My skin prickled with goose bumps and not from cold. “On what grounds?”
Daphne reached out and took my hand. “Darling, I don’t want to take anything away from you that you deserve, but Reid was my husband for over twenty years. I know he didn’t mean to cut me out. He was about to sign a new will.”
“I wasn’t planning on cutting you out.”
She smiled a fake smile. “Well, now it will be official and not left to your decision. A judge will decide.”
“Unbelievable.” My gaze met Grant’s. “I’m sure everyone here was aware of your plan, everyone except me.”
“It’s not personal, Vee,” Joe said.
“Yes, Joe. It is.” I walked back inside. My pink cosmo was sitting on the bar. I lifted the drink to my lips.
“We should talk,” Grant said, his words slightly slurred.
“About...?”
He drank the rest of his whiskey and placed the glass for Brent to refill.
I took the seat beside him. “What do you want to talk about?”
“Fucking note.” He shook his head.
“I don’t understand.”
“It would be different.”
“What would be?” I asked.
Abruptly, he stood. “Never mind. I need to pee.” With that he was gone.