I turned, my jaw set and my body ready to lash out. My tenor dropped. I twisted the front of Dijon’s practice jersey with my fist and brought our faces close together. “Never fucking say anything like that about Vee—ever,” I growled. “She’s a lady, not someone who gets banged.”
Dijon leaned away and lifted his hands in surrender. “You’re right, Fin. Sorry.” He looked around. We had the attention of most of the locker room. “Ms. Maeve is cool.”
Heads nodded.
“Listen,” JD said, “be good to her, or we, your teammates, will have to kick your ass.”
I released Dijon’s jersey. “Just so we’re clear. I can kick all your asses.”
The men around me laughed.
My volume rose. “I can and I will.” A smile cracked my angry expression. “As long as you’re all kind enough to take your turn and let this old man rest in between.”
Troy stood and patted my shoulder. “Seriously, Fin. Tell her we believe in her.”
“Graham,” came from a booming voice we all recognized.
“Tilson,” Dijon whispered.
“Over here,” I yelled.
“Get in my office. Everyone else, get your asses out on the practice field. We have a game to win Sunday.”
Chapter 18
Vee
“Oh, Vee,” Jen said, her eyes growing wide. “What happened to you? Are you all right?”
I gingerly touched my cheek. “Would you believe I ran into a wall?”
“No.” She stood and walked toward me.
A feigned smile spread across my lips. “I was in a car accident last night.”
She gasped. “First Mr. Hubbard and then you.”
I hadn’t thought of it that way. “It was nothing. I drove my car off the road near my dad’s house. Those country roads have deep ravines. I was going slow. There were reporters.” I shook my head. “The airbags deployed. I think it was the one from the steering wheel that gave me the shiner. Now that I’m thinking about it, they took my car to the Mercedes dealership off Highway 25 downtown. Could you call them to find out how long it will take for them to fix it? And if it’s not today, I’d like to get a rental.”
Fin’s advice about security wasn’t bad advice. However, I was too independent to have a bodyguard around all the time. That seemed suffocating.
“Sure. Also, Mrs. Marsh would like to talk to you when you have a moment.”
My aunt.
“I have an important call to make. After that, I’ll contact Aunt Rachel.”
“Coffee?” she asked.
“Please.”
Esquire Tricia Loften had an excellent résumé. She graduated top of her law class from the University of Chicago and clerked for Justice Meredith Stinwell, a respected federal judge in the Eastern District of Kentucky, for two years post-graduation. Tricia then declined an offer to enter one of the top law firms in Lexington to work for the federal public defender’s office. After three years in that role, Tricia accepted a position at the prestigious Davis and Barnes Law Firm in Frankfort, Kentucky. That acceptance was twenty years ago. Today, she was a partner at Davis and Barnes.
Using Cammy’s name, I was connected to Esquire Loften without much delay. “Thank you for taking my call, Esquire Loften.”
“Ms. Hubbard, Cammy Wilcox let me know a little about your situation. She said she believes you should have legal representation that is focused on you, not the Coopers or your late father.”
I sighed, put the phone on speaker, and laid it on my desk. “I appreciate Cammy’s help. That’s exactly why I’m calling.”
