CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Glenda Pinken looked down the long table of the executive conference room and stared at her financial analysts. Her brother and sister were both in the room, but knew they would have nothing to say in matters of money.

“You’ve been able to free up several million with the loss of Cavet and Marks,” said the man.

“Cavet was a death,” said someone at the table. She immediately looked up, staring at the man who was their public relations executive.

“Yes. A suicide,” said Glenda. “Tragic, but we don’t owe anything for that. After all, we don’t pay for suicides.”

“You’ll have to pay if the final autopsy reveals his suicide was related to injuries during his time playing football,” said the PR executive. His name was James Begnaud. He’d only been with the Fire for about eight months, but he wouldn’t make the year with that attitude.

“James, although I appreciate your insight, shut the hell up unless I ask you for said insight,” she said with a haughty air. He took in a deep breath, releasing it slowly, and nodded. “Now. Since we have the additional few million and I can get someone decent in here, what players do we have access to?”

When the discussion regarding available players finished, the ticket sales and concessions were reviewed, painting a grim picture for the Fire. They were losing money. Not just losing, hemorrhaging. In fact, all of the teams were suffering the same.

“Carolina is considering selling or just exiting the league,” said her brother.

“That seems dramatic,” she scoffed. “What about the others?”

“I’m afraid it’s the same all over the league. Without the backing of the professional leagues, we can’t keep going like this.”

“I refuse to just throw my hands up and quit,” said Glenda. “We’ve invested decades into this league, and we will make it succeed.” Her sister stared at her, shaking her head.

“I don’t know, Glenda.”

“Don’t know what, Gwen? What!” she yelled.

“Don’t yell at me. This isn’t working, no matter how much you think it is. I want you and Glen to buy me out.”

“What?” frowned her brother.

“I’m done. Just buy me out, and I’ll move on.”

“No,” said Glenda. “You can resign, and we’ll take over your shares, but I won’t pay a cent for them.”

“Then I’ll sell them to someone on the outside. And don’t give me any legal bullshit, Glenda. I’ve already checked with the lawyers. I can sell to anyone I like.”

Her sister was the flaming color of a flamingo, her cheeks burning with pink and red. She gripped the edge of the table and stood, glaring at her.

“Fine. Sixty cents on the dollar.”

“No. You will pay me fair market price.”

“I’ll pay that for your share,” said Glen. “That will give me majority.”

The panic in Glenda’s chest was growing, and she glared at her siblings, then snapped her fingers, waving everyone else out of the room. She poured a glass of whiskey and took her seat once again, staring at her siblings.

“I will own the majority of shares for this team. Me. I will pay you two dollars above asking per share for all of your shares.”

“You know I can’t compete with that, Glenda,” said Glen. “You’re doing this intentionally.”

“Of course I am, Glen. I never do anything without intention.”

“Like Butch and Trevon,” said her sister quietly.

“Watch your tone with me, Gwen. Butch is a tragic story. One that will be resolved soon enough. And Trevon? Well, he was just getting old and unable to do his job any longer. I’ll have the papers on your desk in the morning, Gwen. It’s been a pleasure doing business with you.”

She stalked out of the room, her heels clicking on the tile of the hall floors. Glen looked at his sister, shaking his head.

“You couldn’t have given me a heads up?”

“I’m sorry, Glen. I just blurted it out, not thinking. I’m so tired of her bullshit and all of this.”

“It’s okay. I was never going to get full ownership. Maybe you helped me out. I can threaten to sell to an outsider as well. It might be time for me to leave, too.”

“If you do, God help those left behind.”