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“Gordon Holdings is one of the richest companies in the world,” Viv said. “Apart from that, Harrison and I have our own wealth from investments and trusts. I’m using that as the capital, and I’ve already gained approval from the required twenty-four existing owners. Everything is already in place, and we start construction on the stadium shortly.”
That meant she’d been working on this process for a long time. You didn’t just wake up one morning and decide to spend billions to start a new team. And there was no way the other owners had simply agreed unless she’d given them good reason to. They wouldn’t agree if she didn’t have a solid plan in place—it didn’t look good for anyone if a team failed, especially a new franchise, which was exactly why they made it so difficult to start one.
“You’re starting a franchise here in Montana?”
“Yes, I am.”
“You’re serious right now?”
“I’m dead serious. I told Mom and Dad last night, and it went badly enough that I got on a plane this morning.” She paused. “I’m giving them time to process. I’ll reach out again after the new year.”
“Why would they be upset about it? Seems pretty cool to me,” Foster asked.
“Our father is a minority partner of an existing team,” Viv explained. “And while I have repeatedly asked to be brought in and take a bigger role in the sports world through that existing stake, I was ignored and pushed aside.”
“Why?” Abby asked.
Viv rolled her eyes. “Because I don’t have a penis. It’s sexist bullshit. I know more about football than any of the owners of that other team—apart from maybe the majority holder, but the others just want the box seats and the prestige of saying they own it. I know the players. I know the rules. I know the game, the coaches. I know how this business is run. And that’s what I wanted to pursue as a career. But they wouldn’t take me seriously.”
Wait, if she was doing this on her own that meant…
“Viv, please tell me you didn’t.”
Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, already knowing what I was alluding to. “I did.” For the first time, her voice wavered slightly.
I stared at her. “You put your entire trust into this? Viv, if this plan fails, you’ll have nothing.”
She stared at me, and for a moment she looked a little scared. But more than that, she looked hurt—hurt that I was also doubting her.
“I can do this, Harrison. I can make this happen. I’m skilled enough and smart enough. And if they refuse to see it, I’ll make them. And I will make the best damn team this league has ever seen. Right here in Montana.”
“Why Montana?”
“Why not? Our family has roots here. And it’s about time Montana had their own team, don’t you think? People love football here. Why shouldn’t they have their own professional team to root for? Missoula is big enough. We can make it happen. So what if it’s not Atlanta or Seattle or LA. We deserve to have a home team to root for.”
“You really want to do this?”
“It’s done. I already signed off on the paperwork and put down the money to start building the stadium.”
Drew scratched his head and held up his finger. “Wait a second. Doesn’t it cost like billions of dollars to get a team franchised? And I mean, that’s just the team, right? Like, building the stadium also costs at least millions, right? Am I insane here, or is that a big-ass number? You can seriously afford that?”
Viv stared at him, then turned to me like she was shocked my friends truly didn’t understand the scope of our wealth.
Liam finally said the question everyone was thinking. “Hold on—are you secretly loaded? Like, loaded loaded? Because I knew you came from money, but I didn’t realize you came from Bruce Wayne levels of money. And if you do, then beers are definitely on you from here on out.”
“Are you even allowed to own a team if your dad also has—” But before Foster could even finish the question, Viv was waving it away like she’d already answered it a billion times.
“Yes, he is a limited owner. He is not the majority stakeholder. If he was, this would be a different conversation.”
“You’re really doing this?” I asked her again because I was having a hard time wrapping my head around this. Viv had always loved football and made no secret about her interest in our parents’ stake in the existing team. It was part of why she’d always worked so hard at Gordon Holdings—to prove she could handle anything they threw at her.
She took a breath. “I’m really doing this. I quit my job at Gordon Holdings to do this, so there’s no going back now. And I would really like your support.”
I nodded once. “You’ve got it.”
Her jaw dropped ever so slightly—like she was surprised at my quick response—before she caught herself. I knew the feeling. In our family, support wasn’t something you expected. It was something you braced yourself to not receive.
“Okay,” she said, her shoulders dropping in relief.
