Page 49 of Can't Get Enough

I already know Soledad and Yasmen won’t be able to fly off to Cali in the middle of the week with their commitments. They’d be my first choice as plus-ones for this event, but I have a lot of good second ones.

Me:Would love to get out of the city for a night. Send deets to Skipper.

Finally, I come to a new message from the almost-billionaire I’m avoiding.

Maverick:You have a good one, too.

I don’t think his “have a good one” means the same as mine. Mine is a dismissal, a way to shut things down. When Maverick says have a good one, I think he really hopes I do.

CHAPTER 15

MAVERICK

We may not be on home court, but this feels like home.

No matter what arena we’re in, there’s nothing like watching a nail-biter with my father. Even though he’s no longer an assistant coach, he’s still on edge every time the Vipers play. He won’t relax before the buzzer.

“What’s Paulson thinking?” Pop grits out, standing so close to the plexiglass of the luxury suite box his breath fogs it up. “He needs to switch forty-three. He can’t guard August West, and that boy’s gonna drain threes all night if we let him get hot.”

It’s great seeing my father reinvigorated in a way he hasn’t been since we lost my mother. Losing her was the earthquake that shook and destroyed his foundation. At first he didn’t even try to dig himself out from under the rubble. With the possibility of me owning the team he’s devoted so much of his life to, it seems like he’s finally starting to reemerge.

Improbably, the Vipers are in the Western Conference playoffs, thanks mainly to the president of basketball operations, who came to my father on the low seeking advice the last few years. He followed Pop’s recommendations on a new head coach, how to take advantage of a few high-draft picks and trades in the offseason. The results? Vegas Vipers versus the San Diego Waves in a franchise-defining series.

I’m definitely tuned into the game, but I have a broader agenda tonight. Being here in this box is a strategic show of intention andstrength to Andy Carverson, the current majority owner of the Vipers and part of the good ol’ boy network that blocked my father’s aspirations at every turn. I’m here to remind him that soon I’ll be calling the shots as the new majority owner. That I—the kid who used to collect dirty towels and pass around Gatorade and do whatever grunt work they found for me—am going to buy the team that has been in his family for decades right from under him.

He’s mismanaged the organization and he’s mismanaged his money. The man is not poor by any means, but the Vipers are now valued in billions, not millions. Publicly, Andy claims he simply wants to free up some of his holdings so he can reallocate funds for his family’s estate planning. Privately, it’s a different story. He’s still worth more than 99 percent of the world’s population will see in a lifetime, but wealth is relative. Tying up this much money is a luxury when there are other investments that could make him more money faster and easier.

I bided my time, getting my finances in order so that when the perfect moment presented itself, I’d be ready. Selling the True Playahs app wasn’t a difficult decision. It was a calculated one that I’d been planning for years. This team, my father’s legacy, was the endgame. And none of the people who stood in his way will stand in mine.

The door to the suite opens and Andy Jr. walks in, looking ridiculous wearing a Vipers jersey over his dress shirt and pants. How a man who lives in Vegas has a complexion so devoid of color has always mystified me. He’s so pale, you’d think he lives in Alaska.

“Christopher,” Andy says, extending his hand to my father first with false deference. “So good to see you.”

Assessing Andy shrewdly, Pop extends his hand after a slight hesitation. “AJ, how you doing?”

He’s been calling Andy that since he was a college student. He knows it gets under the other man’s skin.

“I’m good,” Andy replies through a tight smile. He can only fake humility for so long before his privilege starts to show. “Glad to see you.”

He turns his attention to me. “Checking out the investment, Mav?”

“Just enjoying the game.” I gesture to the buffet of food laid out and the fully stocked bar. “Can I offer you anything?”

“I have my own box,” he replies testily. “And my own food. I just wanted to come by and say hello.”

“Ahhh, of course.” I walk over to the bar and grab a bottle I brought in myself just for him. “Have a drink with me, though?”

“Is that…” He frowns at the red bottle of liquor I’m holding. “Is that Macallan 60?”

“It is.” I reach for a glass. “Maybe one drink.”

I can tell he wants it. One bottle from the Macallan Red Collection—sixty years old, sixty thousand dollars, and goes down smooth as silk. I’m not one to toss my weight around, to intimidate people with wealth… unless they need reminding, and if there’s ever anyone who needed reminding that our positions in this game have swapped since I was the kid scurrying around the stadium, and he was his daddy’s favorite, it’s this man right here.

“Like I said,” Andy replies, his voice as sharp as his jaw. “I have my own box. We’re close to wrapping things up, I think. Just remember you may become the majority owner, but the deal is contingent on my continued involvement and a seat on the board.”

“Why do you feel the need to remind me of that?” I ask, allowing a small smile. “You’ve stipulated it since the beginning of our negotiations. I’ve never had a problem with it.”

At least not one that I’ve voiced to him. Of course I’d rather evict him from the organization altogether. He and the friends he’s entrenched in the leadership and front office are the reason the Vipers had back-to-back losing seasons in the past. I will change that. And to rub it in their faces, I’ll use my father to help me do it.

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