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“Thanks, man. I’ll see you then.” I disconnect the call, and another knock on my door has me looking up. Coach O’Doul stands in my doorway. Waiting. “Evening, Coach.”
He walks in, and hands me a legal pad, which I look over quickly. It’s a list of names. “What’s this?”
“You say you want this team to succeed. Here’s your chance.” O’Doul leans over the desk and points at the yellow pad. “That’s a list of unrestricted free agents, and a few trades I’d like to make happen. The last two years should have been rebuilding years, and Brenner didn’t invest the way we needed him to. I picked up a few good guys in the draft, but they’re young. We need to stack our depth chart with more seasoned players. That list will help get us there.”
I lean back in my chair and eye the numbers we’ll need to get some of these guys here. “A few of these guys won’t come cheap.” I’ve already had my sister Lenny run numbers on a couple of free agents. She’s the numbers genius and works her magic for the Kings. A few of the guys on this list are already on my radar.
“Did you buy this team because you’re bored? Or do you actually want to win? Because I want to win. I’ve only got a few more years of coaching before I promised my wife I’d retire. I want to bring home the damn Cup.” He straightens and stares down at me. “I’ve read up on you. You like to be the best, Kingston. You did some impressive things with the Kings after you stepped up, and you weren’t afraid to put your money where your mouth is. You gonna do that here?”
Disrespectful O’Doul and I are never going to be on the same page. But this... this I can work with. I understand how a man can be driven by the desire to win. To leave your mark on something that’s going to last longer than you will. “Wanna walk me through your plan to win the Cup?”
Coach leans over and flips to the next page on the notepad. When he sits down, a devious grin spreads across his face. “I thought you’d never ask.”
And that’s how we spend the next two hours.
Working through O’Doul’s plan and who he needs to put it in motion.
Calls are made.
Emails sent.
And finally, a plan begins to take shape.
By the time the two of us walk out to our cars late that night, we’re on the same page.
Luka opens the car door for me, and I stop to shake O’Doul’s hand. “Nice working with ya, Coach.”
“You too, Kingston.” He takes a few steps before I stop him, the question that’s been bouncing around in my mind since he showed me his notepad, demanding an answer.
“Hey, Coach. If you don’t mind me asking, what changed your mind? Last week, you thought I was the enemy.”
“I had lunch with Daphne the other day. Don’t know if I’ve ever met someone with as pure a heart as that young woman has, and she thinks you’re the real deal. She seems to think you’re the only person who might actually want the Cup more than me. I figured I had nothing to lose. Have a good night, Kingston.” Bobby O’Doul gets into a massive Ford truck and pulls out of the lot while I’m still stuck in place.
There goes my little assistant, surprising me again.
* * *
When I walk into my father’s house that evening, I’m greeted by my giggling sister. The youngest one. I never really thought I wanted kids until Ashlyn had Madeline. Growing up and constantly surrounded by people, I always imagined a quieter life... when I thought about it. Which wasn’t exactly often in my teens and early twenties. But by the time Madeline was born, Dad was already gone, and it was up to the rest of us to step in and help.
Help Ashlyn, who has no other family.
And be there for Madeline, since Dad couldn’t be.
I was twenty-seven when she was born. She could have been mine. I think most of us look at her as ours. But she’s a clone of her mother. Cornflower-blue eyes, curly blonde hair the color of straw, and tiny little features like the porcelain dolls that used to line a shelf in Lenny’s room. And she’s currently upside down, dangling by her feet in Becket’s hands.
“Where is it?” Becket asks teasingly, and Madeline’s giggles grow louder.
Her upside-down eyes meet mine, and she squeals with glee, “Save me, Max.” Her arms stretch in front of her, so I steal her away from Becks and hold her close to me. “Quick, Max. To the kitchen. Momma’s in there, and he won’t yell at me in front of her.”
This kid has had every one of us wrapped around her tiny little fingers since the day she was born, so I do as she says and steal her away to the kitchen where Ashlyn is cleaning up after dinner.
“Momma... Becks is after me.” She twirls her fingers in my hair with one hand and squeezes the life out of me with her little legs.
“What did you do, baby?” Ashlyn wipes her hand on a towel and stifles a laugh when Becks follows us into the room. The delicious scent of fajitas fills the air, and my mouth waters. My eyes scan the room for leftovers until I eye my brother. Fucker probably ate them all.
“She was playing on my phone and forgot where she put it.” Becks tickles Madeline’s sides. “Can you please go look for it for me?”
She sighs like a teenager and pushes to be let down. “Fine.” Once I place her on her feet, she sulks away, and Becket points at Ashlyn.
