CHAPTER 9 LINCOLN

I'm still sweating from that hot encounter in that deserted office when I return to the ballroom. I beeline for the bar and grab myself a whiskey before I hear my dad's voice in my ear.

"Where's that Bailey girl? I know she's here tonight." He's hissing at me, and I wonder if he can smell her pussy on the fingers that are currently gripping my glass of whiskey for dear fucking life.

I clear my throat as I grapple with words, still not quite planted back in reality after what just happened between Jolene and me.

"What's the matter with you, kid? You sick or something?" he demands, and my mom turns around and gives me a hug.

Okay, it's far too soon to be hugging my mother after the sex I just had.

Jesus.

I'm still working my way down from bliss, and seeing my parents here is probably the shock back to the real world I needed.

I really need to go wash my hands. I should've hit the restroom after what we just did, and as I glance around, I assume that's where she bounced off to.

"Didn't know it was my day to keep track of her," I tell my dad. "And no, I'm fine. It's just been a night already playing the game." I give him a tight smile to throw him off the scent of why I'm really out of sorts, and it seems to work.

"I hear you. Never liked these events myself, but you know her." He jabs a finger toward my mother. "She lives for the damn things, even now." He rolls his eyes, and she playfully smacks him in the chest.

"Oh Eddie, knock it off. You know you like them too. A nice dinner, a little dancing, and who knows what the night will bring after that." She holds up her drink and winks.

Christ.

Do I really need to be privy to this shit?

"I, uh, have to go make the rounds," I say, and I bolt the fuck out of there before they get the chance to hold me back any further.

I glance around and spot Sam, who's now talking to Austin Graham, and I can't help but think two things.

One, she's a much better fit for him than my girl, though admittedly she's still a bit older than him.

And two, what the fuck is it with this kid hitting on every woman in my life?

I suppose I have to play the jealous card again, even though I could not care less that he's talking to her. I'm stopped several times in my pursuit of my date, and at one point, I see Jolene as she hugs the one and only Joseph Bailey.

I haven't seen the man in person in nearly twenty years, but he looks much the same—a few pounds heavier, maybe, and a bit older, but he's still built like a house and he looks like he could kick my ass even though I've got more muscle on me. Beside him is her more petite mother, with whom Jolene shares many of her features—the blonde hair, the petite frame, the straight nose.

The Baileys and the Nashes are in the same room tonight, and the thought pulses more than a little bit of fear into my heart.

Cocktail hour is fine, but when it's time to take our seats for dinner, I glance nervously around. Jolene is at a table with other members of the media. Her parents are seated on one side of the room while mine are on the other. My date and I are at a table with Jack, Steve, Mike, Andy, and their significant others.

I've shaken hands and played nice, and it would be even better if I could just get the fuck out of here after dinner, but because I'm an honorary chair, I have to sit through all the speeches and auctions and shit, and toward the end of the night, I have to get up to say a few words myself.

I wrote a speech, but I'm not really feeling it.

I want to say something important. Something my dad can hear but also something her dad can hear.

I just have no idea what it is.

"Linc?" Sam's voice beside me breaks into my thoughts.

"What?"

"Kate asked how we met." She looks pointedly at me.

"Oh, sorry. I was, uh, just thinking about my speech later." It's the truth, anyway. I glance over at Jack's wife. "We met at the Gridiron one night. She was there with that reporter."

"Oh, I love that place," Kate says. "I don't get out there enough with the kids at home, but they have the best brisket."

I force myself to participate in the conversation here at the table, and after dinner, I head back toward the bar, where I find Troy Bodine with his wife.

"Hey, Nash," he says. "I never heard from you about that dinner."

"Right, I'm so sorry about that. You know how it is when you're assembling the team in the off-season. How does next week look? We're between camps and I might be able to fit something in."

"We play in Los Angeles Sunday and Monday, but I'll be back Tuesday. Let's make it happen," he says.

I nod as he and his wife walk away, and I grab myself another whiskey and a glass of wine for Sam.

The silent auction starts, and we're all still in our chairs where we sat for dinner. I'm not planning to bid on anything, so I didn't even bother to look at the items up for auction. I take my seat beside my date, and we all look up toward the stage.

"Our first item is the Gentleman's Gift Basket," the auctioneer begins. "A bottle of fine scotch, a selection of premium cigars, a signed jersey from Jack Dalton, and a leatherbound journal make up this extravagant set for the discerning gentleman. The opening bid is one thousand dollars."

I watch as paddles go up into the air, driving the price up to three thousand fairly quickly.

"Five thousand," a voice yells, and I look over to see Joseph Bailey with his paddle in the air.

"Six thousand," another voice yells—and this voice is a bit more familiar since it belongs to my father, seated on the opposite side of the room.

Oh fuck.

I knew this wasn't going to be pretty the second Jolene admitted her parents were going to be in attendance tonight.

"Seven," Joseph snarls.

"Ten grand," my dad roars.

Ten grand for some whiskey, cigars, and a JD5 jersey?

It's a pissing match. A cock fight. Neither one of them cares about the goddamn whiskey. They both care about showing up the other one. Joseph might want the jersey for the bar, but my father has no stake in it. He's just being an asshole.

"Twelve," Joseph returns. When my father doesn't say anything, Joseph yells out clear as a bell across the room. "Finally letting me win one after you took everything away from me? Or are you all out of cash?"

"I took everything from you?" my dad shoots back. "Don't you dare talk to me about the past, Bailey."

The room is so silent I could hear a pin drop—but no pins are dropping given that everyone in the room is completely still as we wait out this feud two decades in the making.

Everyone wants to know what's going to be said next. Everyone wants to know who's going to throw the first punch.

Neither of them is going to back down.

"Or what?" Joseph taunts.

I glance over and see my mother tugging on my dad's jacket. She's telling him not to embarrass me.

Too late.

"Okay, okay, boys," Jack finally yells from a few seats away from me.

Part of me wanted to see them have it out. The other part of me is absolutely fucking mortified over what just went down, and I'm sure Jolene feels much the same.

"I have twelve thousand," the auctioneer finally says. "Going once, going twice…sold to bidder twelve-fourteen for twelve thousand dollars." He pounds his gavel and moves on to the next item, but it's not like I can focus on anything other than what just happened.

And it doesn't get better from there.

As the auction starts to get lengthy, people get up from their seats and move toward the bar.

I spot my dad talking to Tristan Higgins and Travis Woods, two of our star wide receivers, which makes sense given that my father also played that position.

And then I see Joseph Bailey walking toward the bar.

I rush over to run interference, to do something—anything—to stop an actual fight from going down, but I'm stopped by a reporter…and it's not Jolene.

"Care to comment on what your father said to Jolene Bailey's father?" he asks.

"I have no comment," I say, and I turn away but they're already facing off.

And I can hear them from here even though there's a low hum filling the room now as the auctioneer announces the final auction item.

"You took my entire career from me," Joseph yells at my father. "The least you could do is let me have that goddamn whiskey set."

"I took your career from you?" my father yells back. "What about the bar you ran into the ground? You took my entire life savings when you fucked me over!"

I jump in between the two of them before someone starts throwing hands. "Gentlemen, may I remind you we're at a charity event. If you need to confront one another, you'll have to do it somewhere else."

"Get the fuck out of my face, you lying, manipulating piece of trash," Joseph says to me.

And that's it. That sums up the entirety of our problem in one fell swoop.

Joseph doesn't just hate what my father did.

He also hates what I did to his daughter because of it, and there is no way on God's green Earth he will ever see it any other way.