Page 9 of The Situation
I chuckle and move to the windows overlooking the city. Although I won’t admit it openly to him, Gannon is right. When it comes to this issue, it’s time to be serious.
The Tennessee Raptors hockey team is the biggest thorn in my family’s professional side. It was Dad’s baby. Despite adding to the Brewer portfolio, taking on other projects and teams,and having kids,the Raptors were his greatest love. Naturally, when he went to prison a few years ago, and we had to sort through the mess he left behind, the Raptors were a full-blown disaster. None of us wanted to take it on, so we left it for last.
“McCabe gave me his two weeks’ notice,” Gannon says, dropping the news onto my lap like a barbell.
“What? You’re kidding me.”
“Unfortunately, I’m not.”
“Why?” I ask.
“Someone in his family, maybe a parent, is sick, possibly with cancer.”
I shake my head, admiring my abs in the reflection.This would make a good selfie. “How do you not pay attention when someone shares such personal news with you?”
“Because I don’t care what’s happening in his personal life.” He sighs. “But I do care that the Raptors are without a marketing director. Again.”
“How far was McCabe on the rebrand?”
“The last full update was two weeks ago. He has a great plan and a hundred balls in the air, but I don’t know who will catch them now. I’d just as soon sell the team instead of dealing with it. But no one will buy it for a reasonable price in this state.”
I gaze across the city and mull over the situation. It would take a lot of stress off Gannon’s plate as the president of Brewer Group, the umbrella company that owns the Raptors, to have it sorted. I want that for him. He deserves to be able to go home at night to his fantastic wife and beautiful baby girl.
We all deserve to put this last piece of Dad’s legacy to bed. Once and for all.
But the hockey team needs a thorough refresh—spun in a complete one-eighty. It has to be completely detached from its current reputation with a new logo, mascot, and awhole new vibe. We have to make it an active participant in the community instead of a talking point whenever the wordscandalis brought up in conversation.
“I don’t need this headache,” Gannon groans. “Help me out. Do you have any suggestions? We can’t just hire someone off the street, and I exhausted my contact list when I hired McCabe. Ripley gave me one name. Renn had nothing. Jason is useless in sports, and Bianca sent a shrugging emoji when I asked her.”
“Oh, so I’m your last call?”
“Don’t take it personally.”
“I take everything personally. How could it not be personal? Think about it—if you call me first or last, it’s a silent display of where I rank in your mind. Did you think of me first, or Jason? That shows how much faith you have in me.”
“Stop with the baby of the family bullshitand help me.”
I sigh for his benefit. “I wouldn’t be so mean to someone I needed—especially if they were my last resort—but whatever.”
Gannon doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t make a sound. Somehow, his irritated silence is louder than anything.
“Fine,” I say. “I don’t happen to have any names handy, but let me talk to some people at the event tomorrow night and see what shakes out.”
“Do you know what I really need? I need a brother who likes hockey.”
“What?No.No, no, no. Don’t even put that into the universe, asshole. With our dad, we could have a brother come out of the woodwork at any point. And, with our luck, he’d be a chip off the old block.”
A knock comes from the hallway.
“Hang on a second,” I say.
I grab several bills from my wallet. Then I pull open the door and find an older man in a suit and tie holding a single long-stemmed red rose.
“Good evening, sir,” he says, handing me the flower.
“Good evening.” I slip the cash into his palm. “Thank you for your help. I appreciate you.”
“Anytime, sir. Thank you. Have a wonderful evening.”
