Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80943 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80943 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Brody wasn’t a member of the Gallagher Club, but Becker was, and so he’d promptly ordered his best bud to brush the dust off his tuxedo.
He felt bad that Becker had been raked over the coals by his wife, but he’d make it up to him.
“Why didn’t you get Lucy to watch Tamara?” Brody asked. He’d been over to Becker’s house dozens of times, so he’d spent quite a bit of time with Becker’s two daughters. Lucy was fourteen, ten years older than her sister, Tamara, but it was obvious to Brody how much the teenager loved her baby sister.
“Lucy has a—God help me—” Becker groaned “—boyfriend. They’re at the movies tonight.”
Brody hooted. “You actually let her leave the house with the guy?”
“I had no choice. Mary said I couldn’t threaten him with a shotgun.” Becker sighed. “And speaking of threats, she said to tell you she’ll be pissed if you don’t agree to spend a week at our lake house this summer. She renovated the entire place and is dying to show it off.”
Brody usually tried to spend his summers in Michigan with his parents, but for Becker, he was willing to alter his plans. “Tell her I’ll be there. Just name the date.”
Becker suddenly slowed the car. “Oh, shit.”
A small crowd of reporters hovered in front of the gates of the Gallagher Club. A few turned their heads at the Lexus’s approach.
Rolling up the windows, Becker said, “Obviously, the vultures are following Pres.”
He suppressed a groan. “Are you surprised? Someone on the team came forward and confirmed the rumors. The press is salivating.”
Becker drove through the gate and stopped in front of the waiting valet. Lips tight, he got out of the car without a word.
The second Brody’s feet connected with the cobblestone driveway, one of the reporters shouted at them from the gate.
“Becker! Croft!” a man yelled, practically poking his entire bald head between two of the gate’s bars. “Any comment on the allegations that Presley Houston fixed Warriors games and…”
Brody tuned the guy out, choosing instead to follow Becker up the front steps toward the entrance of the club.
“Fuck, I hate this place,” Becker muttered as they entered the foyer.
“How’d you get to be a member anyway?” Brody asked the question without caring too much about the answer.
He’d much rather talk to Becker about Craig Wyatt and the possibility that he was the one who’d come forward, but his teammate’s body language clearly said he didn’t want to discuss the reporters or the scandal. His massive shoulders were tight, his square jaw clenched. Brody could understand. He’d been feeling tense himself ever since he’d watched that news story with Hayden.
And yesterday’s loss against Colorado hadn’t helped. Losing a playoffs game was bad, but losing 5–0 was pathetic. They’d played like a team of amateurs, and though nobody had brought up the scandal, Brody knew it was on their minds. He’d found himself glancing around the locker room, wondering which one of the guys had confessed to knowing about the bribes.
“My wife is involved with one of Jonas Quade’s charity foundations,” Becker was saying. “When he offered to put in a good word for me with the members’ committee, Mary pretty much threatened divorce unless I joined.” Becker muttered a curse. “I’m telling you, man, she’s not a nice person.”
He snorted. “You must have seen something good in her considering you married the woman.”
“These days? I’m not sure I remember what that something was.”
Concern flickered through him. “Everything okay on the home front?”
Becker was quick to reassure him. “Oh, ignore me. Mary and I are good. I’m just being dramatic.”
The two men entered the massive ballroom, and Brody’s eyes instantly began darting around the room.
“Is she here?” Becker asked with a sigh.
He blinked. “Who?”
“Come on, Croft. Only reason you dragged me here is because I belong to this pretentious society of snobs and you needed to score an invite. And since you’re no social climber, that means you came here to see Houston’s daughter. Which, by the way, is still a terrible idea.”
“Is it really, though?”
Becker accepted a glass of wine from a passing waiter. “Beyond terrible, kid. You don’t want to get involved with a Houston, not while this betting bullshit is going on.”
His tuxedo jacket suddenly felt too tight. “Hayden has nothing to do with that. She’s just visiting from California.”
“And if the media finds out you’re sleeping with her, they’ll start drooling. It’ll be all over the headlines, how Pres’s daughter is screwing one of the star players in order to shut him up.”
“You say that as if you think there’s something I need shutting up about.” The hairs on the back of Brody’s neck stood on end. “Sam…do you know something about this bribery shit?”
“No, of course not.”
“You sure?” He hesitated. “You didn’t… You didn’t take a bribe, did you?”