"This isn't about money. I have more than enough. I know you do, too, Rein. And…" He shoots me an empathetic look because I'm the only one in the room who doesn't.
I brush it off like I always do. When you don't grow up with a lot, you realize you don't need a ton of money to be happy in life, just enough to get by. And I've built a successful careerfor myself coaching the minor league, so I'm fortunate enough to have enough. More than a lot of other hardworking folks, actually. That's something I never take for granted.
Even if having a couple of extra mil lying around would come in mighty handy right about now.
"So if you don't intend on playing us off against one another, what is this about, Cory?" Rein asks.
"I'm prepared to sell you the team on one condition…" It's not clear which one of us he's addressing, but before I can clarify, he says, "You two have to own the team together."
One eye squints as I try to unpack that sentence. "What?"
"You heard me. I'm even happy to accept the lower of the two offers, but only if the two of you jointly own the team."
"Why?" Rein asks, his jaw pulsing.
"I have my reasons." Cory folds his hands on the desk. "That's the offer. Take it or leave it. You have twenty-four hours to come back to me with your decision."
7
Rein
I have my answer before stepping out of Cory's office.I'm in.
But Beau is another story. It's kind of hard to never see someone again when you co-own a minor league football team with them.
We're walking through the parking lot in silence. He's deep in thought, but I have no clue what is going through his mind. I'm debating whether to suggest going somewhere for a drink to talk it over, but after what happened last time we did that, I'm not sure he'd agree.
Is he pissed off that we got drunk? That I kissed him? That we slept in the same bed, me naked? If he is, I get it because being upset about any of those things makes sense.
What doesn't make sense is why he's angry about what happened after the accident whenhecutmeout of his life without so much as a proper conversation. Just some bullshit letter he was too chicken to give me himself and had delivered to me via my dad of all people.
We reach Beau's car first.
"See you've got the bumper fixed," I observe dryly.
"Yeah. It wasn't much more than a minor dint."
"Hope it didn't cost too much. You know, being lined with gold and all."
He presses his lips together, and that's the closest I get to a smile. "What are we going to do?" he asks, leaning against his car the way his dad used to scold him for when we were kids.
"I don't know," I say, joining him. "I'm so confused. Why is Cory doing this? It makes no sense."
"I've heard he can be…quirky. Like some other rich people I know."
"Ouch," I say, unable to muster the required enthusiasm.
Even with all the time that's passed, I can still tell when he's just messing around, and there's no barb in his words. I tilt my head toward him all dressed up—by Beau Katona standards, that is—in his pressed chinos, neatly tucked burgundy-and-dark-gray plaid shirt, and scuffed leather boots. The late-afternoon light hits his eyes, turning them a rich, soft brown.
I'm torn, desperately wanting to know what's going on with him but bummed that I can't get any indication just by looking at him like I used to. It kills me that I'm galaxies away from knowing him at all.
But I also want to respect his boundaries, in spite of the universe forcing us together like this. Is there any chance in hell he might actually go along with Cory's almost-guaranteed-to-be-a-disaster plan? And will he be able to make his decision in less than twenty-fours since that's all the time we've got left before Cory pulls his offer and Gilberton remains without a local football team for God knows how many more years.
"What are you thinking?" I finally ask.
"I'm trying to figure it out. What the fuck game Cory is playing at here, and…" He lifts his head slowly until our eyes meet.
It's wild that even though he's a fully grown adult, I can still see the kid he was just by looking at him. The boy with the natural talent who gave one hundred percent at every single training session. How I'd always let him cheat off me in Math, and in return, he'd help me with Science. All the times we used to sneak away to the old fire tower and spend countless hours talking about football and what teams we wanted to play for and list all the exotic places we'd go on vacation together.
