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“Yeah. You grew up in the foster system and something about killing someone.”
“I never wanted to share this with you boys, but maybe you need to hear it. I was thirteen, when someone attacked the house where a bunch of us foster kids were living. The family got more money that way. But one of the kids, he was no good. He went after us, and I’d had enough. It wasn’t just for me. I was protecting another kid.”
I remembered some of the story, not the details because he hadn’t given those. “You were sentenced for murder.”
“I was underage. Thirteen. And yes, I’d stabbed the kid enough times that he bled out. I did time in juvie and later changed my name. I got through it. You will too. Survival is in your blood.”
I didn’t like the smile that curved his lips like he was proud.Of murder?It didn’t sit right with me. But maybe that wasn’t it. I wasn’t sleeping, so I was probably reading things wrong. He was trying to connect, to offer support and advice.
“I’m an adult. Things work differently when you’re not a juvenile.”
“People with money rule. And you’ve got your grandad on your side.”
I hoped like hell he was right. “I don’t think it’ll be enough.”
“Shane.” Joe’s hands curled into fists on top of the table. “There’s no way I’ll let you go to jail. And if your grandfather won’t help with his family ties, then I will. I know the same people.”
“What are you talking about? What people?”
“You don’t know?” Mocking laughter fell from his mouth. “Your grandfather is a third cousin to the Bennett crime family.”
I shook my head, speechless.Mafia?“No. I don’t believe you.”
He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. What does is if things go south, they own judges. I promise you won’t go to jail.”
Our drinks arrived, and I was glad for the distraction, needing to process everything he’d just laid on me. Until Joe pulled out a bound packet and slid it across the table to me.
“What’s this?” Wrenshall & Sons Construction was printed on the cover.
He tapped it just beneath the name. “It’s a business plan and contract. I want to go into business with you boys—flipping houses.”
I could barely process his words.Why?It didn’t make sense. “What about football? How would you have time for something like that?”
Joe was on Chicago’s team, but from the little I’d paid attention to his career, I did know he rarely, if ever, left the bench.
His eyes, more gray than silver, hardened, and lines bracketed his mouth. “They didn’t renew my contract. And after a series of bad investments, I really need something like this. It’s a fresh start, a foolproof one, and a way to reconnect, father and sons.”
“That sucks.” I wasn’t surprised he’d been dropped, but when football was a person’s life, getting let go was devastating, nonetheless. And football had seemed to be everything to him after he’d walked away from us. “So.” I shifted uncomfortably then glanced at the softbound bundle of papers,Wrenshall& Sonsglaring at me in bold font. “You have experience in flipping homes?”
We fell silent as the waitress brought our burgers. I took a big bite while I waited for his response.
He leaned back in his seat, an arm flung along the back of the green vinyl bench. “Your mom didn’t tell you?”
An uncomfortable heaviness settled between us as tension built between my shoulder blades. In one look, I telegraphed that he’d better watch his step in any conversations regarding my mom. He seemed to pick up on it as a slow grin replaced the previous hard slash of his mouth.
“Construction was how I put myself through college.” He picked up a fry and pointed it at me. “I didn’t have a crazy scholarship like your brother, or even yours.”
How does he know about that?I finished off my burger as he took his first bite.
“Hasn’t your agent reached out to other teams?” I started on my fries.
“I decided that wasn’t in the cards. Now that we’re in contact, I thought it would be best to make up for lost time. Going into business together would give us that.” He slid the packet closer to me. “We would buy a house on the cheap, fix it up, and sell it for ten times our original investment.”
I wasn’t unfamiliar with HGTV, as Mom loved to watch stuff on it. I knew about the concept of flipping houses, and he made it sound so easy, but things rarely were. “Phoenix and I don’t have that kind of time. We both have school and football. I’m sure you remember how hard that was without adding in a start-up.” Not to mention the hours I had to work for Grandad until he felt I’d learned my lesson and eased some of the lawyer’s fee.
It wasn’t a bad idea, and I would need a backup plan since I’d killed someone and was still on shaky ground with what additional fallout could come of it. But there had to be a catch. And the fact that I still didn’t know what I wanted to do for a backup plan, aside from business and work for Grandad, was what kept me in my seat with a reticently open mind to the project.
Joe flipped the book open a few pages to where the contract disclosed the start-up costs. “I know your grandad set up trusts for you boys”—he tapped beneath the excessive amount—“so this shouldn’t be an issue. We each go in equally, and we buy our first house. I’ll have the controlling share, but that’s because I’ll also be the general manager on the projects, as you’re focused elsewhere until school is finished.”
