“Dax, are you listening to me?” Finn said as he punched my shoulder.
“Yeah, yeah,” I said, knowing that I hadn’t been. “All right, lay it on me. What’s the bet?”
“You’re trying to figure out who the chick is, aren’t you?” he asked as he raised his hand, pointed to the tap and ordered a third round for us.
“Yeah, she looks familiar,” I nodded as I tossed back the last of my drink and turned back toward Finn. He had a big, goofy grin on his face and that worried me. “Who is she? Someone you slept with?”
“Good God, no!” he laughed loudly before lowering his voice as he filled in the details. “She’s the Halas granddaughter. She’s the only surviving heir of the third generation, and she’s a sports nut.”
“Well, duh,” I said rolling my eyes at him. “Of course she is; she’s got Bears blood coursing through her veins.”
; “No, I mean she’s a legit sports fanatic,” Finn said seriously. “Got a degree from Northwestern and she’s spent her time after graduation working for teams around the country. I think they’re grooming her to be the owner.”
“Oh, you think?” I said sarcastically. “Jesus, Finn, what the fuck do you think someone like that would do? Lie around on her chaise lounge, getting her nails done?”
“Well, you never know with these society chicks,” Finn shrugged. “Most of them are like pampered poodles. You know, constantly being maintained?”
My laugh was a little too loud and Finn shot me a side-eye look that told me I was perilously close to pissing him off.
“Okay, so what’s your bet?” I said turning the conversation back around to a subject that was bound to make him happier.
“Now we’re talking!” he smiled as the bartender slid two beers down the length of the bar and gave us a wave. “I was thinking…”
“What? What were you thinking?”
“Oh no, wait,” he said with a gleam in his eye that made me more than a little nervous. I knew this look. When Finn looked like this, he was taking the bet to the next level. This was the look he’d had when he’d bet me that I couldn’t get an NFL franchise team, and then again when he’d bet me that I couldn’t raise the capital to build the stadium. We were heading into dangerous territory.
“Finn, I don’t know what it is you’re cooking up,” I warned. “But this isn’t going to fly with me, my friend.”
“Dax, I’ve got a brilliant bet,” he grinned. “You’re going to love this one.”
“I have my doubts about that,” I muttered into my glass before taking a sip.
“I challenge you to date the Halas girl,” Finn said.
“What in the fuck is wrong with you?” I asked as I turned and looked him straight in the eye. “That would be like signing my death warrant in the league, and you know it! Besides, why the fuck would she date the owner of the team her mother so viciously hates?”
“I know, I know, but that’s the beauty of it!” he said gleefully pounding his hands on the bar. “Think of it, Dax! You date her, and then you kick the shit out of the Bears and take the Storm to the Super Bowl. Who wouldn’t love that story? Think of the press!”
“I am thinking of the press; they’re going to crucify me,” I said dryly. I turned back toward my drink and snuck a glance at the Halas girl. She seemed agitated and angry, but I was too far away to hear anything she was saying to the bartender.
“No, listen, you can’t lose with this one,” Finn said tugging my arm. “You date the Halas girl and you’re golden no matter how it turns out. The press will follow you and her everywhere, and you’ll have the eyes of the nation on you while you shape your next plan.”
“Which is?” I asked wondering where Finn was going with this.
“We sell the team and open a sports management firm that represents players from all of the various leagues,” he said. “You’ll have built up the brand name with the Storm and when they win the Super Bowl, you’ll have the prestige of having owned a winning team! We’ll attract athletes from all over and there’s way more money in brand and image management than there is in team ownership.”
“How do you know all of this?” I asked, looking at him skeptically. Finn was a hustler, so no matter how good the idea sounded; I always looked for the catch. It was always my name on the marquee of all the businesses we’d started and owned, and I knew that part of the reason was because Finn wanted to be free to work his game in the background without having the attention on the sometimes-less-than-honest means by which he did business. It always made me nervous, but I trusted that he’d never do anything to get me in trouble and if he did, would have my back. We were South Side boys to the core.
“Haven’t you ever watched Jerry fuckin’ Maguire?” he asked. “I mean, Jesus, Dax, any idiot knows that there’s so much more money in player management than any other arm of sports. Last year, CAA negotiated $3.6 billion in player contracts, and netted themselves almost two billion in profits! Do you know what the Bears pull in during a good year?”
“No, but I have a feeling you’re about to tell me,” I said.
“Three hundred eighty-five million,” he said. “That’s in revenue, and when you take into consideration all the expenses of running the team, stadium maintenance and improvements, salaries, and everything else, they’re looking at relatively high income-to-expense ratio.”
“Yeah, but their team valuation is at two and a half billion,” I said. “They’ve got the brand recognition.”