“The difference is that they love it,” he said pointing out the obvious. “Their team is their family legacy; your team is the result of a bet we made and an attempt to make something out of nothing. You don’t love it.”
“True,” I nodded. “What’s the point of starting a management company if I don’t love sports?”
“You love the challenge, Dax,” he said pushing the buttons. “You love the idea of creating something out of nothing, proving everyone who thinks you can’t do it, wrong. Much like with women, you like the thrill of the chase, but once you’ve caught what you’re chasing, you get restless.”
“What the hell do we know about running a sports management company, Finn?” I said, irritated that he’d yet again found my weak spot.
“What the hell did we know about getting an NFL franchise team?” he shot back. “We learned. We’re smart guys who want to do things; create things that weren’t there before. And we always do it.”
I went silent as I thought about what he was proposing. It was true that I was already sick of dealing with the boring details of running the Storm. Finn was right: I liked the hunt, but once I’d caught the prey, I was itching for a new chase. As I thought about starting a new sports management company and elevating it to a position that would overtake CAA and dominate the industry, I felt my pulse begin to race. I could see the moves we’d need to make in order to put things in motion, and I loved the feeling that we were headed into unknown territory.
“Who is CAA’s next closest competitor?” I asked as I stared at the wall behind the bar.
“Boras Corporation,” Finn grinned. “Last year they held a little more than one and a half billion in contracts, but they only made a hundred and seventeen million in commissions.”
“We could easily beat them,” I murmured as I took another sip of my beer. I turned Finn’s plan over in my mind as I shifted my gaze so that I could see the Halas girl reflected in the mirror behind the bar. She was quite pretty, and if I had to, I’d be willing to bet that she was a wildcat in bed. A grin spread across my lips as I looked for a hole in the plan.
“What do you say, Dax?” Finn asked as he downed the last of his beer and slammed the glass on the bar.
“It’s a deal,” I said, holding out my hand to shake without turning to look at him. Finn grabbed my hand, shook it hard, and then let out a low whoop of victory. I added, “Usual stakes?”
“Yep, five bucks and bragging rights, it is!” he agreed as he pumped my hand one more time.
We’d started the tradition back in high school when we had no money and nothing but pride to wager. We’d kept the stakes as homage to our origins as we’d moved up the ladder and increased our incomes. Now that we had more money than we knew what to do with, the stakes were all about honor and bragging rights. We both knew it, but it still provided the motivation we needed to keep charging forward.
“Okay, I’ll get a date with the Halas girl,” I said.
“Not just a date,” Finn reminded me. “You need to make her fall for you, and keep it going.”
“Fuck, you drive a hard bargain,” I swore.
“Good luck, buddy,” he laughed, slapping me on the back as I got up and moved toward my next girlfriend.
Chapter Four
Payton
I stormed out of my mother’s office and headed down to the street in a mixture of rage and sadness and utter disappoin
tment in my mother’s inability to see things from my perspective.
“Heartless bitch,” I muttered as I flagged down a cab and gave the driver an address that I hadn’t used in quite a long time. The driver wisely remained silent as I replayed the conversation between my mother and I in the back seat. I muttered, “Telling me to sit down and shut up? What a hypocrite! She’s a pampered, little socialite who has never had to work a day in her life. This is all a game to her. A power play that has no consequence outside of her enormous ego. What a bitch.”
Fifteen minutes later, the driver pulled up in front of a dive bar on the West Side and as he turned to look at me through the Plexiglas barrier, he asked, “Are you sure you want to go in here, miss?”
“Positive,” I said as I tossed him a 50 and said, “Keep the change.”
I got out of the cab and stomped across the weed-infested pavement to the front door of Black Jack Bar and Grill. I yanked open the door and as I entered the dank world of Jack and his seedy band of brothers, I heard Jack yell, “Hey, Sweetness, long time no see!”
“Heya, Jack,” I smiled as the grizzled old bartender set a shot glass on the bar and filled it with my whiskey of choice. I sunk down on a bar stool and tossed it back in one smooth movement before he could put a glass of tap beer in front of me.
“Uh oh, what’s the problem?” Jack said as he shoved a worn menu covered in who-knows-what toward me. “You look like something the cat dragged in.”
“Jack, this whole day has been shit and I need to forget about it all for a while,” I said as he nodded and set up a second shot. I knocked it back in short order and sighed heavily as I sipped the beer in front of me.
“What’s she done now?” he said with a grin that showed he’d lost another tooth since I’d been gone. I was tempted to ask him what happened, but decided that his question first deserved an answer.
“Jack, the wicked witch of the Midwest has issued an ultimatum,” I said, tipping my chin up to try and give at least the appearance of indignant strength. “I have to find a husband and start popping out rug rats or else I’m going to be disinherited.”