Page 80 of The Show

When my grandfather had announced he’d bought the club, I sent him and Rafe to go through all the paperwork and finances, as my financial and legal representatives. He’d spent time with my grandfather’s C.F.O. and his advisors, and I wanted him by my side because I knew there would be questions about my plans for buying new players. And it wasn’t that I couldn’t answer all the questions myself, but having a team and being flanked by two of the most successful people I knew in their respective fields added a lot of weight, because this meeting could go two ways - mutiny or acceptance.

I was expecting both.

“Where’s Lucian?” Murray asked, as we made our way to the entrance of the executive suites of the stadium.

“He’s already gone in with Maypole.”

“Oh yeah? What was he like?”

“Seemed happy I was bringing it forward, desperate for me to take it off his hands. Kind of an ass.”

“No wonder it’s in the state is it then.” Murray held the door open for Beulah and me to walk through ahead of him.

“Exactly.”

My grandfather and Maypole were standing in the atrium of the entrance hall; Maypole looked smaller than he’d done outside against the statuesque physique of my grandfather.

“Ah, here they are,” boomed my grandfather. “Murray, Beulah, good to see you.”

He leaned down to kiss Beulah’s cheek, followed by a handshake for Murray.

“Good to see you too, Sir. Exciting times.”

“Indeed, they are.”

“Let’s get this over with, shall we?” grumbled Maypole again as he headed toward the elevator, like none of this was his choice.

“What’s he so pissed about? He’s making a tidy billion out of this,” Murray whispered in my ear as Maypole and my grandfather walked ahead.

“Probably because he’s just realized what a shit show he’s made of it, and now I’m going to come in and revive it. Or he’s desperate to fuck off on vacation, and I’m holding him up by calling this meeting.”

“Yeah, you are.” Murray slapped my palm as subtly as he could.

We rode up to the Chairman’s floor in silence, stepping out to find two Lions executive staff greeting us. Maypole walked straight past, not bothering to acknowledge them or introduce us, so I did it myself.

“Hi, I’m Penn Shepherd.” I shook the hand of the man nearest to me.

“Hello, Sir. I’m Scott Fishman, director of the executive staff. This is my deputy, Damon Moss. Welcome to The New York Lions.”

My head moved between the two of them. “Good to meet you, both. What’s your role as director?”

Scott guided us down the corridor as he replied, while I tried to look for signs that he already knew who I actually was. “My team manages the office of Mr. Maypole. Anything he needs, any communications from his office, we put out all internal memos, manage his PAs, his schedule including travel, that sort of thing.”

“And does he always behave like that?” I nodded to where Maypole was storming ahead down the corridor, not bothering to wait for anyone else. I could tell my grandfather was none too happy about it from the way he was shaking his head while talking to Murray.

“Mr. Maypole has a busy schedule.”

Scott’s diplomatic response without shit-talking his current boss was all I needed to know about whether or not he was the type of guy I’d have leading my teams. This would soon be my office, and I wanted a guy like Scott to give me the low-down on how things had been running, and where it all needed improvement.

“Great, sounds like you got it covered,” I said as I gave him a friendly slap on his back.

We stopped outside a closed door, and Maypole turned to me. “Hope you can fight with the wolves, son. This lot will be out for your blood.”

My jaw clenched instinctively, my grandfather responding before I could.

“Don’t you worry about Penn, Maypole. He’s a Shepherd. He’ll be fine. You concentrate on not spending my money too quickly,” he snapped.

Maypole ignored him and pushed the door open with a scoff, all of us filing in behind him. We stepped in and I halted at the sight before me.

---