Page 154 of Fierce Storm
“Morning, Wes. I’m hoping the early call means you have some news?”
“I do. I’m meeting Vance for breakfast this morning, but wanted to speak to you first.”
“I appreciate that, but you know you don’t have to.”
“I know that.”
“Good. So what are your thoughts?”
“We still have the same issue that Thomas was worried about—with Vance and Beckett being similar in age—but they never actually played against each other. At least, not during the regular season. They’ve never been considered rivals and have only been mentioned in the same articles when the best quarterbacks have been discussed.” I nod even though he can’t see me, waiting for more. “He’s a solid choice.”
“You’re right. He could be the exact guy we need to build strong backups so we don’t face another situation like this year.”Thank God for Beckett.
“I agree.”
“Good. And after talking to him on the phone yesterday, you still think he’s going to fit our culture?”
“Seems that way. He’s committed and says he’ll work hard to fit in with our team. He’s just started a foundation of his own, proving he likes to give back like the rest of us.”
“Sounds promising. Have we dug up any skeletons yet?” He has to have them. I know it.
“I found one. He was suspended for a game in his senior year of college.”
“Grades or a fight?”
“The reason wasn’t listed. I could call his college?—”
“That’s not necessary. It was college. We all did crazy shit back then.”
Wes laughs, and yet, I imagine the two of us are probably the only two people who didn’t do crazy shit in college. But we can’t fault Vance for that.
“Let me know how breakfast goes. I should be back tomorrow if he’s around.”
“Perfect. See you then.”
“Bye, Wes.”
I hang up and fall back onto the bed, releasing a slow drawn-out breath. At least things are falling into place for one of my businesses. Why I thought I could run them both is beyond me.
Is it possible I’m spreading myself too thin? It sure feels like it.
I need to fix that. Fast.
Chapter Forty-Three
KEELEY
After getting home late from my dinner last night, I didn’t call or text Sal. Now I wish I had. Maybe then I wouldn’t be feeling so anxious, knowing he has this ability to calm me, even via text.
I park in the outdoor lot on Thursday morning, and walk around to the front of the stadium, needing a moment in the fresh air to gather my strength. I should have spoken to Wes when Vance’s name was first being thrown around as Thomas’s replacement as our starting quarterback, because now that he’s here to meet with the Storm, it’s going to be a hell of a lot harder.
The warm wind blows around my face as I take in a breath, tilting my head to enjoy the sunlight before I spend the rest of my day locked inside with meetings.
Lightning Stadium’s water fountain feature comes into view, and I smile at the statue of Zeus. The eyesore never ceases to make me laugh—a structure of a god in front of a building full of men who think that they’re superhuman.
Although today, it could come in handy. I pause before sitting down on the ledge, angling my body to the glistening water, rummaging around in my bag, searching for a dime.
I’m about to give up when a shiny silver coin appears in front of me, making me giddy until I glance up and find Vance smirking my way.
