Page 79 of The Show

“I’m going to see the graphics guys I work with at lunchtime. I’m going to brief them to mock-up some of my ideas so I can formally present them to you with the rest of my plans once they’re done. And you have an important meeting with the club board.”

“I do, but I still have a little time; it’s not until this afternoon.” My soapy hands slipped over her juicy ass, her breath catching as they moved across her hips and found their home once more inside her silky warmth.

14

Penn

“Hi, Gramps.” I hugged my grandfather after he got out of his car.

We were standing outside the executive entrance to The New York Lions where we were expected inside imminently. In the time since I’d spoken to my grandfather last night, he’d done what he did best - rallied his troops and got shit sorted. Trenton Furst was no longer the General Manager, and I was about to meet my new staff.

“Hello, my boy. How are you?”

“Excellent,” I grinned. And I was. Absolutely fucking excellent. I hadn’t had a wink of sleep, and yet I’d never felt more alive.

“Glad to hear it.” He gently patted my cheek. “Time for you to lead now.”

“Yes, sir.”

He put his arm round my shoulders, leading me to the entrance when the door opened and Franklin Maypole walked out to greet us. I’d only ever seen the man on television; he was much smaller in person, and frankly, he looked kind of mean. His pinched nose was screwed up in the way that gave the impression something rancid was wafting through the air, with ruddy cheeks more thread-veined than pink, and a mouth set in a hard line. He thrust his hand out to my grandfather as he neared him, but totally ignored me.

“Lucian, good to see you. Everyone’s waiting.”

“Good,” my grandfather said as he shook Maypole’s hand. “Have you met my grandson, Penn?”

“No.” He turned to me, his hand outstretched. “Hope you know what you’re taking on, son. You’ve got your work cut out for you now, especially after last night’s game. I’m getting rid of this place at the right time.”

I barely stopped myself from scowling; suddenly brimming with annoyance at his ignorance to what an incredible opportunity he’d had to make something great, yet he’d fucked it all up instead. I vowed that was never going to be the way I ran this club.

“I think I’ll manage.”

“Hmmm.” He stared at me for second then turned back to my grandfather. “Ready to get this over with?”

“Lead the way.”

“Gramps, you go ahead. Murray and Beulah are nearly here, so I’ll wait for them.”

After I’d finally left Lowe’s this morning, I’d done a little of my own rallying. Luckily, Murray and Beulah both took my call and agreed to meet me here after I’d given them the low-down of events, and my decision to formally announce my ownership.

I wanted them both there as my support; Murray to answer any financial questions, and Beulah to field the legal stuff. I wanted to show this board that I meant business, that there was going to be a significant change in the way this club was treated, run, and how we would conduct ourselves.

Starting today, we were going to behave as winners.

I would give them that belief.

A blacked-out Range Rover drove past the guard gate as the barriers lifted, and under the stone arch where two lions rose up on either side as though checking everyone who entered, and protecting those inside. It stopped in front of me, the back door opening after it came to a halt. Beulah stepped out from the left, Murray from the right.

“Afternoon, boss,” Murray grinned, rubbing his hands together. “Ready to get this show on the road?”

“You bet,” I replied, kissing Beulah’s cheek. “You ready?”

She nodded. “I am, though only if they stick to contract questions. I can bullshit with the best of them, but I do not have the depth of knowledge for any baseball questions. That’s your job.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you,” I winked. “Can’t have anyone thinking that I’m surrounded by idiots.”

She pursed her lips hard and pinned me with a look, though I could see amusement twinkling in there somewhere. Beulah was anything but an idiot, and she’d made that very clear to me when I’d called her earlier and requested that she’d attend this meeting. She acquiesced only on the condition I answered anything she couldn’t. She’d also given me two non-negotiables: that her old assistant, Blake, needed to come with her, and I had to give her a proper crash course in baseball asap, or she wouldn’t be starting as my Head of Legal, something I couldn’t wait for her to do. She was exactly what this club needed for the hard negotiation I was anticipating on my imminent shopping spree.

Murray was a little more up to speed.

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