“Charlie, I’m going to need to see you at the office. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
I hung up as I raced through the guard gate and toward Austin. Toward my team.
Forty
Vanessa
Candy greeted me in the executive lobby with a latte. I turned my head. Why did all the coffee smell so terrible?
“Here you go.”
“Thanks.” I took the cup, wanting to be polite.
“Charlie Maine is already in your office. I let her in.”
“Good.” I had never felt like a mission was this important. Candy fell back as I rushed to my office.
Charlie stood in front of the windows, looking out onto the stadium. She turned when I walked in the room.
“I guess you’re anxious to hear my great Isaac plan.”
“Oh that. Yeah. I am.”
“Oh that? I’ve been working all week on it. You hand me the biggest scandal of the century and somehow reduced it to oh that?”
I closed the door behind me. “I have a bigger problem. Or an equally as big problem.”
“I’m going to have to start charging you more.” She exhaled.
“It’s my brother. He’s returned from his eight years of being a professional partier and he wants to take the Warriors from me.”
“Holy shit.”
“What can I do?”
“That’s a question for your legal team. That’s way outside of my area.”
“But it’s going to blow up in my face. There has to be a way to protect the team from this. That’s what you’re good at doing. This is your wheelhouse, Charlie.”
She considered what I said. “Why does he want it?”
I shook my head. “I have no idea.”
“Who is pushing this?” she asked.
“Grammy. That’s my grandmother. She has changed since my grandfather died. She’s mean. Vindictive and has a sexist streak I’d never noticed before. She tracked him down, despite how absent he’s been. She didn’t’ care he didn’t come to the funeral. She didn’t care he hasn’t been home for Christmas. It makes no sense.”
Charlie sat, her tight skirt sliding along her legs as she nestled into my new office furniture. I had gone with touches of white and cream. I loved how strong and feminine it looked. I had the Warriors W embroidered on the pillows. I also had hung the watercolor of Isaac and Dylan over the couch. I loved that we were the only three who knew how to interrupt the tangled three colors.
“I’m not a psychologist, Vanessa. People do some crazy shit in grief. I’ve had clients who were out of their loving minds. I can’t psychoanalyze your grandmother beyond what it looks like.”
“And what do you think it looks like?”
She sighed. “It looks like a woman who lost her son. Lost her husband, and is losing the only life she knew—the Warriors. Your brother seems to embody that life more than you can. And yeah, it’s just because he’s a guy. Probably reminds her of your dad. Maybe it reminds her of both of them.”
“Are you sure you aren’t a psychologist?” I was stunned.
I felt another lurch in my stomach. The stress this situation was causing was making me more nauseated by the second. “Oh God.”