While Coach Tilson told us to spend the day mourning, what he meant was for each of us to exorcise our own ghosts when it came to Reid Hubbard. As I spent the day retrieving things from my apartment as well as grocery shopping—all under a different baseball cap, I thought a lot about the man we just lost.
I didn’t know Reid Hubbard in a meaningful way—I hadn’t been given that opportunity. My guess was that most of the Coopers’ players never knew him personally. We knew him as the owner of the team where we played. We knew him as the man across the table during contract negotiations, the man at the desk in the head office, and the man watching us from a suite high in Crystal Light Stadium. He was successful as an NFL CEO and owner. During his tenure with the Coopers, he managed to build a new stadium and a winning record.
As the day progressed, I realized that beyond a player’s perspective, Reid Hubbard must have also been a great father. Vee’s love and admiration for him spoke volumes.
Reid Hubbard and the Coopers’ GM, Royce Beasley, were the reason I was here in Lexington. I owed both gratitude for taking a chance on me, especially after the last shitty year with LA. Without their faith, I wouldn’t be standing in Maeve’s condo, preparing our dinner, and waiting for her arrival.
A smile lifted my cheeks. If Vee had her way back in September, I wouldn’t have been signed by the Coopers. Peering upward, I spoke aloud. “Thank you, Mr. Hubbard. You’re the reason I’m here. Now, if she’ll let me, I promise to take good care of your daughter.”
My nerves were taut as I worried about Vee.
I checked my phone again. The last text message I received from Vee said that she was almost done at Daphne’s house. The funeral preparations were complete. Earlier, she’d texted saying there were reporters outside the gate at Crystal Light and at the gate of Daphne’s property.
Thankfully, things had changed for the better at the Vine. This building was inhabited by wealthy Lexington residents. It didn’t take long for the residents to complain about the crowds on the first floor. This morning, management took much-appreciated actions for the privacy of their residents. There were now velvet ropes, a black cloth screen, and a security guard stationed at the elevator on the first floor.
Residents could travel up and down the elevator, especially from the underground parking garage, without fear of seeing their picture on social media. That was true of visitors too. I had my keycard at the ready, waiting for Vee’s text. Staying away from her all day long had been its own kind of torture.
How is she battling her sadness?
What happened today at Maker’s Mark?
Are reporters still hounding her?
What about her family?
The questions continued to come and go like waves on a sandy beach. One question would seem monumental, a tsunami, and then it would disappear and another would arrive.
Has she been having to deal with the fallout of this morning’s scandalous story?
There was no doubt this morning the story with my picture bothered me more than it seemed to bother Vee. She probably figured she didn’t have the bandwidth to take on another possible catastrophe. That didn’t mean others wouldn’t react. Honestly, all day I expected a call from Coach Tilson. He’d specifically warned the players to be on their best behavior, saying anything we do will reflect on the team. Rumors of a relationship between the new owner and a player would certainly qualify as a distraction that could cast the Coopers in a bad light.
The call never came. The only person outside of me and Vee who had spoken about it was my agent, Jackson Blanch. If any of my teammates were curious about the social media insinuations, they were holding their questions for tomorrow’s locker room.
My phone buzzed and danced across the countertop. Vee’s name was on the screen.
“Are you on your way home?” I asked in lieu of a greeting.
“Mr. Graham?”
The deep voice was male and unfamiliar. I pulled the phone away from my ear to be certain it was Vee’s name on the screen. It was. I gripped the phone tighter. “This is Mr. Graham. Where’s Ms. Hubbard?”
“Sir, she’s safe. My name is Deputy Ellis, from the Fayette County Sheriff’s Department.”
My heart rate elevated to an unhealthy level. “Sheriff’s Department. Vee… is safe?” My volume rose. “Where is she?” I searched frantically for my keys. Forget dinner, I needed to get to her. Finding them on the table near the door, I bolted into the hallway.
The phone was still to my ear.
“There was an incident outside the Hubbard property. Ms. Hubbard was unharmed. Unfortunately, Ms. Hubbard left her phone in her car at the scene. Deputy Pittman is driving her home. He called and said Ms. Hubbard asked me to call you.”
“She’s on her way home?” I stopped as I was about to push the button for the elevator.
“Yes, sir.”
“Why isn’t Vee with her car? What happened?” I asked.
“The deputy on patrol at the Hubbards’ gate was called away. He wasn’t present when Ms. Hubbard attempted to exit the property.”
“Attempted?” I clenched my teeth. “Reporters?”
