Madden:What the fuck?
His response is warranted since I’m supposed to be playing in New York this weekend, not chilling in Chicago.
Me:Long story, but I’m suspended for a game and headed to Chicago right now to try to fix the things I fucked up.
Instead of answering with a text, he calls me.
“Hey,” I answer.
“I’m in San Diego, and my place in Chicago is vacant. Everleigh has a spare key if you need it.”
“Are you kidding?” I ask. “I had a copy made when I stayed there last time. I think everyone with the last name Bradley has a key to your place. You should probably change your locks.”
“Duly noted. Thanks for the free advice.”
I laugh. For the first time in days, I actually laugh. And it feels good. Like maybe there’s some light at the end of this darkness. I hope so, anyway. I’m sure as hell going to try.
“So what happened?” he asks. “Why are you suspended?”
The aircraft doors open, and I grab the duffel filled with Jack’s supplies plus my own suitcase from the overhead and pick up Jack’s carrier while balancing my phone. It’s a lot for one guy to handle. “Hang on.”
Once I’m off the jetway, I glance around. The airport is crowded, and I’m glad I carried on. I call up a rideshare and head right for the pickup area. My car will be here in seven to ten minutes.
“I, uh…made some questionable decisions. Lincoln Nash showed up to divert me from doing something really stupid, so he was already mad at me. Then I went hard at a Friday practice, and the QB might’ve ended up with some broken ribs because of me.”
“Dude! How stupid are you?”
“I hope that’s rhetorical,” I mutter.
“Why are you acting like this? I thought you were finally pulling your shit together,” he says.
“I was. And then—” I glance around to make sure nobody’s listening since someone like me can never be too careful, and I lower my voice. “My wife ended it. Took off her ring. Told me she couldn’t be with me.”
“Why?”
“Because of Dad’s fucking VIP lounge.” It’s not quite that simple, but that’s what it breaks down to.
“How?”
I figured he’d ask that, so I give him the truth. If there’s anyone in the world who could understand the position I’m in, it’s my big brother. “It’s complicated. I lied about the underground stuff to protect her, and she got mad when I told her the truth. Said I was putting her in danger, and the only way she could be with me is if I cut ties with the lounge.”
“Yeah. Dad’s putting usallin danger with this bullshit,” he mutters.
“Even you?” I ask. I keep walking toward the rideshare area, and I’ve navigated this airport enough times that it’s second nature to know where to go.
“We never talked about how I found out,” he says.
“And?”
“He was using Bradley Group to hide a lot of his illegal companies. I found some shell companies on the books that he was feeding large sums of cash to, and I did some digging and ultimately stumbled on the underground casino. I couldn’t get in and didn’t know what it was, but it was actually you who helped me getin.”
“Me?” I ask. “How?”
“Your deepfake. I used it for the facial recognition software.”
“Shit. I taught you well.” I wondered what the deepfake was for when he asked for it, but I also know better than to sniff around and learn things I don’t need to know.
He laughs. “Something like that. He knew within ten seconds of me entering that I found it, and eventually I made him extract anything illegal from Bradley and sign it over to me just before I left for training camp.”
