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old you cooking relaxes me. Especially when I'm in great company. Think about it.
From: Lori Connor
To: Graham Frazier
I will.
From: Graham Frazier
To: Lori Connor
You can't say no, though. It's payment for the tickets, remember?
I laughed but didn't reply. When my client arrived, I had to make an extra effort to concentrate on our discussion. She wanted a vintage wedding, and I couldn't recall all the themes off the top of my mind. My thoughts kept drifting to Graham and his invitation. What was happening here exactly?
Chapter Eight
Graham
"Just a few more. We'll be done quickly, I promise," the photographer said. The team's annual calendar shoot was about to wrap up. Usually I didn't attend, but this year Amber, as our PR and social media manager, had talked me into being in the calendar.
"You did well for your first photo shoot," Jennifer said, joining me on the couch where I'd sat for the past ten minutes.
She was Amber's assistant. Since Amber was at my house with Lori, putting up decorations in the tent, Jennifer was in charge. I'd wanted to head out the second my portion was over, but the photographer insisted I stayed until the end, in case she needed to reshoot something.
"I can't believe Amber talked me into this."
"Polls don't lie. Our Facebook fans voted for you to be in the calendar," she said. Amber had told me that before. What she'd failed to tell me was that they'd voted for the shirtless Graham option. I'd only found out when the photographer said, “Shirt off please.”
"Some heads-up about the shirt would have been good."
"But then you would have said no."
Smartass. Like I didn’t have better things to do than take my shirt off for the camera. As the owner of the club, I was a jack-of-all-trades. I was informed about all the activities, the future directions, and I chaired most meetings. One of my main tasks was setting up the annual planning and overseeing the execution. I was also in charge of player transfers.
"We're done," the photographer announced to the room. We'd booked the entire studio for the day.
"Okay, everyone. Let's head back to the club for the strategy meeting," Coach Dennings announced.
"I'm sitting this one out," I told him. He frowned but nodded. It was the first time I was ditching a strategy meeting after a defeat, but I had a legitimate reason. Lori was at my house. Since we were having a rehearsal dinner, the schedule had moved forward by one day. They'd set up the tent structure yesterday, but the entire crew and Lori had already left by the time I came home. I didn't want to miss her today too.
As I headed out, my own assistant called me, asking to confirm my father's allowance before it went through.
“Yes, wire the money,” I confirmed as I climbed in my car, then ended the call. My relationship with him was rocky, but we had an agreement: as long as he didn't bother Nana, he received a nice sum every month. He'd never been interested in running the club, or working in general. My grandfather had run the club until he passed away. I was twenty-six at the time, working as the PR and Marketing Manager. My father, who'd finished off his trust fund by that point, took over the reins, despite not having worked a day in his life. Two and a half years later, the club was nearly bankrupt. He'd used it as his own personal ATM. When shit hit the fan, he resigned. I stepped in as president of the club. Then I found out he'd convinced Nana to sign off her restaurant as collateral to settle one of his debts. He'd defaulted on it.
The restaurant was all Nana had. After ditching my grandfather, she moved to Tampa and bought the restaurant with the divorce settlement. Losing it would have crushed her, so I paid off the debt. But I knew he'd turn to her again if he got into trouble. Sending him a monthly allowance for doing nothing was a safer bet. Nana had dealt with enough crap from my grandfather. She didn't need a son leeching off her too.
When I approached my entrance gate, I spotted Lori's car farther down the street. I found her inside the tent, perched on a stool, securing the end of a piece of linen in a corner. Everyone else seemed to have left already. Yesterday, the tent had been bare. Now, it was adorned with decorations of all kinds. The tables and chairs had also been arranged in wedding formation.
Lori didn't give any signs of hearing me approach, even though my steps were echoing across the floor. When I was close enough, I realized she was tapping her foot against the edge of the chair. She had earbuds plugged in. After stepping down from the chair, she clapped her hands twice, shimmying her hips, then slowly turned around. Her grin was so wide it lit up the space. Then she glimpsed me.
"Oh my God." She took out her earbuds, laying them on her shoulder. "I didn't hear you."
"You're the last one here?"
"Yes. Amber and my assistant just left. How come you're home so early?"
