Page 60 of The Play

Nicole pursed her lips. “You’re well-informed,” she said crisply.

“Extremely,” Grant retorted under his breath.

He should be taking advantage of Nicole’s presence to get out of here. But instead, he stayed rooted in place, sick to his stomach, and more desperate than he could ever remember being.

“I was just telling Grant here about an interesting email I received,” Marlene said.

“From?” Nicole’s voice was still pleasant, but her eyes had narrowed, and she did not look particularly happy.

“An anonymous source. Claims Grant here bought the team for Deacon Harris.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Nicole said, not missing a beat. “You don’t buy a billion dollar professional football team like you’d buy a dozen roses.”

Marlene tilted her head, acknowledging the argument. “I’m just saying what they said. An old friend of Grant’s here, from college days. And you know, I can’t believe we aren’t talking about this more, but you two went to the same college.”

“Lots of people went to that college,” Nicole said.

“We ran in very different circles,” Grant said, which was not technically a lie. He hadn’t said they didn’t know each other. That they’d never met. But it was hard to imagine that a self-professed nerd already working on his graduate studies and one of the stars of the football team would’ve been personally acquainted.

“Right,” Marlene said. He couldn’t say for sure if Marlene had proof yet that they’d met. She often played things close to the vest. They’d probably gotten everything they could out of her, at this point.

“Good to meet you, Marlene,” Nicole said and took Grant by the arm and steered him to the door.

If Marlene couldn’t connect them, couldn’t prove that they had known each other, then this was a nothing story. Because why would Grant have bought a team for someone he didn’t even know?

But Grant had hardly cared about burying his tracks from way back then. If Marlene dug hard enough, she’d find out he was a tutor. Might even find some people who’d seen them in the library together. They hadn’t been hiding, because back then it hadn’t mattered.

He wanted to believe that it didn’t matter now, either.

But it was stupid to assume that nobody would care—especially not if the story blew up.

Everyone would care.

Nicole stayed silent until they got to the elevator. When they were finally alone and couldn’t be overheard, she turned to him. “What was that about?” she asked.

“A nuclear bomb that might go off, or it might not,” Grant said. “She told me she had an email—I’m assuming from the drives we sent to the commissioner’s office. Supposedly it’s from someone who knew me in college that’s claiming I bought the Condors to get close to Deacon.”

“That’s insane,” Nicole exclaimed.

Yep, it totally would be.

And he’d done it anyway.

Okay, not only for Deacon. He’d meant everything he’d said to him, in the spring, before the sale had gone final.

He’d seen what the Riptide and the Piranhas were doing, and it had seemed like a complete fucking waste to drive a team into the ground, with no thought to the players or the staff or the coaches.

He’d meant all of that.

But at the beginning—and at every point when he might’ve changed his mind or given up—it had been all about Deacon. Only Deacon.

Sure, he could’ve had Darcy get his number, again. Asked him on a date. But they’d never been that kind of friends. They hadn’t even really been friends at all.

“Yes, it is,” Grant said steadily. “And it’s true.”

Nic’s jaw dropped. “And this journalist knows? This could be . . .” She trailed off, probably unsure just how much to scare him.

But Grant knew the score. Just didn’t know how to run the play.

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