Page 10 of Blood on the Rocks

Brandon’s brow pushed up as his mouth dropped in surprise. He was silent as Seraphina reached into the desk to pull out her grandfather’s copy of the finances. Simon Spade, the financial advisor, had his own copy at his office. Seraphina had glanced through it during her nostalgia earlier that day and found something interesting she wanted to know from Brandon Thorpe.

“Did you know my grandfather was considering trading you?” she asked, picking her eyes up to look at him.

He was still surprised by her lecture, but this question seemed to upset him. His eyes got fiery again and his mouth turned down. “Yeah, I heard rumors but Ken never came to me directly about them,” he said. And then, under his breath, “He never would have traded me.”

“Why?” Seraphina asked, and though he seemed to believe what he said, his facial expression so entirely serious, she couldn’t help but be amused by his first show of self-centeredness. It made him not so attractive, she realized with a touch of sadness, and she hoped that he would get over himself. “Because you’re the best goalie in the league? You do realize that it would cost me less to trade you then to keep you with your current asking price, don’t you? Sure, a few teams might pay you what you want, but it wouldn’t be same for you.”

“What wouldn’t be the same?” he asked, arrogance gone for the moment.

“The game.” She sat up even straighter. “Face it; there’s just something in the water when you’re here, in Newport Beach. The environment is mellow and relaxed except during the games when people’s passion takes over and they feel personally involved in every pass, every turnover, every goal. I don’t have to preach to you about the weather, how people work their entire lives to be able to buy a house here, how people would kill to stay here.” Her eyes flashed to his face at her purposefully chosen phrase, but either it went over his head or he was extremely controlled because he didn’t even react. “The people are nice and sweet, offering a smile or a hello. And the fans. The fans love you, Mr. Thorpe. Even I know that, and I barely know anything about hockey. These fans are loyal and attend every game, despite the fact that we’ve never made playoffs because they believe. They believe we have the potential. And it doesn’t matter how many times we let them down because they’ll keep coming back because, for whatever reason, they still have faith even though we may not have faith. These are our fans. Nobody stops being a Gulls fan, which means the fan base will only increase which means more people packing Sea Side. Do you really want to give that all up for money?”

Seraphina locked eyes with him once more. She waited for him to claim that the people that occupied Newport Beach were stuck up and superficial, that he’d rather prefer the changing seasons to the static weather, that every fan base was generally the same save for the team they cheered for. But he didn’t. He didn’t say anything.

“And let’s be frank,” she added, almost as an afterthought. “No one’s going to take you with your current asking price given that you’re kind of a suspect in my grandfather’s murder.”

He shifted in his seat, but he wasn’t uncomfortable by the directness of her words. “Can I just say something?” he asked. “I don’t understand why you’re keeping me on the team when I am an unofficial suspect in your grandfather’s murder.”

Yeah, she didn’t either. But before she could stop herself, she said, “Because for whatever reason, I don’t think you did it.”

Seraphina was actually surprised the telling words came out of her mouth. She wasn’t sure she was even allowed to tell Brandon that she believed his innocence, but she knew it probably was the smartest idea, especially if he did do it. At the moment, Seraphina realized that if she wanted Brandon to be loyal to the team, she would have to show her faith in him. Even if all logic and evidence pointed to the contrary, she would take the position of innocent until proven guilty.

Brandon looked taken aback by her words, and again, she waited for him to say something, anything; maybe a thank you or even a laugh of disbelief at her naivety. But again, he said nothing.

Which gave Seraphina a small flicker of hope.

She swallowed before she began to speak. As the younger sister, she wasn’t used to giving out orders. She asked for permission, made a request, even made suggestions, but rarely did ever tell someone what they were going to do. That changed right now. She made it a point to lock eyes with him, and after taking a deep breath, she spoke.

“Here’s what’s going to happen: you’re going to play for the Gulls for the season with your current contract. You won’t officially sign until the investigation has been closed, but you will be paid for each game you play. I expect you to act and play as though you are still part of the team. Which means I expect you to interact more with your teammates. I don’t know if you’re brooding on purpose or just don’t like to socialize, but I don’t see any chemistry between you and the team, which may explain why we have yet to make it to playoffs. Go out with them after a game or practice. Talk to them. Get to know them. You’ve been playing with them for three years, and I guarantee you don’t know Matt’s middle name. Finally, once the season’s over, you and I will meet up and discuss how much you’ve improved, because even the best can get better, and we’ll reintroduce salary negotiations.”

She raised a brow, indicating that he really did have to speak this time, to tell her one way or the other if he was in agreement.

“You’re more like your grandfather than I originally thought,” he said. Maybe Seraphina’s ears were deceiving her, but it almost sounded as though he admired her for her similarity to Papa. “Fine. I agree.”

He said nothing more when he got up and left, but he didn’t have to.

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