Page 43 of The Play

“I don’t know,” Grant admitted. “But I’m going to call Cheryl back.”

“Don’t tell her to fuck off,” Darcy warned.

Grant shot her a look. “Did you really think I would?”

“No, but I know she works your last nerve. God knows, she works mine.”

“I got this,” Grant reassured her as he dialed Cheryl’s number.

His conversation with her was short and sweet and to the point.

She’d have the hard drives by tomorrow morning—but Grant was only offering it if they could make their copies and get the drives back by Tuesday morning, because they’d need them to prepare for next week’s game against the Steelers.

Cheryl reassured him that it would be done, and Grant hung up, feeling like he’d done everything he could to get ahead of the ugliness of this story.

Sure, the media would probably drag them through the mud—though Nic was right, and if his offer of the Condors’ hard drives just happened to leak to a few select reporters, it would go a long way to exonerating him and the rest of the team, too—but the NFL wouldn’t cause them any more problems, and that was Grant’s main concern.

They’d just have to block out the remaining media speculation. Not easy, but doable.

“You don’t think this could possibly come back and bite you in the ass?” Darcy asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear after Grant set his phone down.

“If it does, then it bites us in the ass. I don’t see another way to make sure everyone who matters knows we’re innocent of whatever bullshit Rex is accusing us of.”

“Accusing you of,” Darcy reminded him.

Oh yeah. That had really been the topper on the whole mess.

Rex had insinuated that he’d been gambling and cheating because Grant had asked him to.

“The good news is that’s easy to disprove,” Grant said. “Especially if we’re transparent.”

“If you’re sure,” Darcy said, sounding unusually unsure.

It suddenly occurred to him what Darcy was nervous about. “You think they’re gonna find out about Deacon,” he said.

Darcy nodded. “I know we haven’t exactly been exchanging gossipy notes about it in the office, but what if someone said something?”

“Then someone said something,” Grant said inexorably. Though he doubted anyone would. They had a football team to run; they shouldn’t have time to gossip. Besides, what did they even have to say that the NFL didn’t already know?

That the rest of the players called him Mr. G, and only Deacon referred to him as Grant? The NFL knew they’d been friendly in college, and it was easy enough to use as an excuse. Grant had disclosed that fact when he’d first made overtures about buying the team. The rest of it was mere gossip and rumor, and easy to disprove.

After all, that bathroom at the Pirate’s Booty had been empty.

But more important, more important than anything else, Grant needed the NFL to know that whatever shit Rex was spouting was just that: total bullshit.

“Alright,” Darcy said. “Do we need to do any more damage control or we set for now?”

“We’ll need to go over to the offices. Get the drives together. Overnight them to the commissioner’s office.”

“Even better, I’ll fly them there on the jet. Wait for them to copy them and then come back with them,” Darcy said. “Let me just clear my schedule.”

“Good.” It was a typical Darcy suggestion—cutting out the difficulties of other people and going directly to the source.

One of many reasons she was such a valuable employee.

And a valuable friend.

“Finish your wings,” Darcy ordered him. “God knows without me here to harass you, you’ll forget to eat.”

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