I shake my head as I do my best to hide my utter annoyance at the direction of this conversation. I knew he wasn’t calling me in because it’s my birthday. If anything, this is about the worst present I could possibly think of.
I’m silent as he starts to drone on about his plans to fix me. All his brand strategies that he thinks are going to solve this problem.
“You’re a multi-million-dollar asset to this team, and it’s time you start acting like it. I don’t want to threaten bench time, but I want to remind you of your bonus structure. You’ve already lost the million-dollar bonus for staying out of trouble this season, but I have a call into your agent to discuss a possible restructure of your contract. My offer is that forevery week this season, if you meet certain criteria, you’ll get a bonus.”
“What criteria?” I ask.
“You attend all press obligations and any additional events I put on your calendar, you stay out of trouble, no fines, no citations, no legal trouble, and you actually play the game.”
“And what bonus?”
“Five hundred thousand each week.”
It’s a good offer. A great one, actually. There are still ten weeks left this season, minus a bye week. That gives me the potential to earn four and a half million extra dollars if I do what he says—which is helpful at this point since my meal prep people pulled our agreement after the citation was made public.
But he’s not doing what Everleigh did. He’s not trying to get me to open up. He’s not trying to get inside my head to understand why I am the way I am. He’s throwing money at the problem.
He’s taking the corporate approach. She took the human one.
Which makes sense. To him, I’m nothing more than an asset. His goal as a team owner is to maximize profits and win games, and I’m nothing more than a tool that can help make that happen.
“Once we get the restructure in place, we’ll work on your events. We’ll avoid podcasts for a while and stick with statements and talking points drafted for you. We’ll work on some youth outreach stuff, philanthropy, team promo. Polish you up a bit. No more bars and clubs. You stay home, and you focus on the game. I’ll put you on a tight leash if I have to.”
More treating me like a commodity instead of a person. He’s not asking the questions. He’s not getting to know me. He doesn’t care that I once was married, that my wife died ina horrible accident over a decade ago, that I found out she was pregnant at the time. He doesn’t ask about any of that. He still doesn’t know that I found out at her funeral that the kid wasn’t mine and that I’ve been carrying this around with me for ten years.
He doesn’t know that I didn’t talk about it. Ever. With anyone. Until Everleigh. She got me to open up. She’s the only one who’s ever been able to reach me.
Do I still make mistakes? Fuck yeah, I do. I’m only human, and like all her statements said, I’m working on myself. I’m learning.
He doesn’t know that if he takes her away from me, he’s also taking away the progress only she was able to make.
And I certainly can’t tell him that I’m in love with her.
“We have a lot of opportunity to right this ship, so let’s get to work,” he finishes. He studies me for a few seconds, and then he adds, “I want to make clear that I’m doing this because my goal is to make you the leader I know you are.”
“Feels corporate,” I grunt.
He chuckles. “Thanks for the honesty. And maybe some of it is. My decisions have to be driven by business because that’s what this is. You know that as well as I do. But I can’t run my business properly when my players are running around getting into trouble. I have to draw the line somewhere, and if my first attempt at passing this off to someone else didn’t work, then I guess I have to do it myself.”
“Itdidwork,” I argue. “Or it was starting to, anyway.” I keep my gaze focused out the window.
“Did it?” he prompts.
I finally return my eyes to his. “It’s complicated, but yes. Everleigh was the first person to get me to open up since I lost my wife in a car accident ten years ago.”
His eyes widen as he sinks back into his chair. “Jesus, Mav.I’m so sorry.”
My eyes go back out the window. “Nobody takes the time to get underneath why I am the way I am. Until Ev. But that’s why. There’s more to it. My wife…she was pregnant at the time. It wasn’t mine, something I found out at her funeral. Sometimes I imagine what it would’ve been like. I always thought he would’ve been a boy that should’ve been mine.” I clench my jaw. “In the end, everybody leaves. Including Everleigh now.”
Jack is quiet for a long time. So long that I almost glance over at him, but I don’t. I can’t. I’ve left too much of myself out there to be judged now, and it feels open and raw and vulnerable.
“I’m sorry, Mav. It’s a shit hand you were dealt, and you deserved better.”
I glance up at him, and he presses his lips together and shakes his head.
“Don’t you see, though? This is it. Your legacy. You can show people that they can survive trauma. They can rise from the ashes. You did. You went through hell, and you made it through to the other side. You’ve been a pro football player for an entire decade despite the darkness trying to weigh you down. I saw those images of you with that little girl from the Hope Gala.Thatis the Maverick Jennings I brought over to the Vegas Aces.Thatis the man I know is somewhere inside of you, the one that you choose to suppress. Andthatis the angle we’re spinning here.”
I shake my head. “It’s not about angles. I don’t want to publicize my history. I’m telling you this to help you understand me. I never told anyone about it, and Everleigh managed to pull it out of me. She made me fall in love with her. She made me choose her. But she didn’t choose me back. So everyone leaves, and I’m back in the ashes where I was a decade ago, only under different circumstances this time.”
