Page 1 of Mad Rivals
CHAPTER 1: Madden Bradley
I Can Get Good Food Anywhere
I didn’t want this trade, but sometimes the things we don’t want turn out to be the best thing for us.
That’s been a theme my entire life, and I can only hope it holds true this time.
Alex Sheffield, one of the top reporters of league news, broke the story about ten minutes after Coach called me to break the news.
“Madden Bradley, popularly known as Mad Brad around the league, has been traded from Chicago to San Diego.”
I haven’t even wrapped my head around it yet when my phone starts to ring. It’s only been a few minutes since the trade was announced, and my father is already calling.
“Hello,” I answer formally instead ofhey, Dad, how ya doin’?
“Madden, son. Congratulations on your trade, but you know I’ll need you in Chicago this summer to continue our work together at Bradley Group.”
I don’t want the family business, but I’m the eldest son in the prestigious Bradley family.
It’s my legacy to carry the company forward whether I want to or not.
Give it to Everleigh, third in line and the oldest daughter. She has a way better business sense than I do despite my undergraduate degree in business.
But no. It’s mine.
I don’t have much career left in me. Traded in the final year of my contract. The Bears didn’t want me anymore. The Storm will likely let me ride out my final year on the bench and then I’ll disappear into the void.
I know it’s business. I know the truth of the matter is that the Bears didn’t want to pay me. They have other problems there, too. Firing the coach midseason is usually a pretty good indicator of that, and they just hired the Eagles’ offensive coordinator. He’s cleaning house, starting with me.
I clear my throat. “I haven’t figured anything out yet. I need to go to San Diego for a few days and get the lay of the land.”
“So long as I have your assurance you’ll be around to work with me,” he says shortly.
No, Father. I won’t be.
But the good news for him, I suppose, is that he also has an office in Dallas. And Vegas. And New York.
The list goes on.
But you don’t become a magnate in commercial real estate development without taking risks and spreading out your assets, I guess.
“We’ll figure out a compromise,” I say instead of any of that.
I’m not quite ready to leave Chicago anyway. We’re finally coming out of winter, though I’m expecting a spring blizzard since we usually get hit with something when we’re not expecting it. The weather will turn to my favorite season that isn’t football season, and I don’t want to miss it.
My entire life is here in Chicago—my brothers in football, players who are no longer my teammates. A sea of women—some of whom I’ve hooked up with. My family and the Bradley legacy.
It’s all I fucking hear about.
Okay, so maybe San Diego isn’t looking so bad.
It’s a new pond in which to cast my line away from the spotlight cast on my family—or, rather, away from the spotlight our parents work so hard to put us in.
I can’t say I’ll miss that, though I’ll miss that sense of family.
Monday night dinners cooked by my parents’ personal chef for the entire family—or at least those who can make it.
Charity events and activities in the only place I’ve ever called home.
