Page 17 of A Shot at Love
8
It does not escape my notice that Jack wants to meet with me at the Archers’ offices. I shift nervously from foot to foot as I ride the elevator up to his office the next morning. All NBA teams, and those with WNBA counterparts, keep their team offices within their practice facilities. Ours are upstairs, with beautiful glass windows overlooking the courts below. I peek over my shoulder, through the elevator glass, and see my teammates getting started with their individual workouts. Per usual, Olabisi and Jadea are going first. As the team alphas, they want to talk to our coaches first thing in the morning and usually argue over plays that we haven’t even workshopped yet. Today is a travel day, with a day game in Indiana tomorrow, so the workout will be light. We'll then watch film together to analyze Indiana’s playing style.
The elevator dings, signaling my arrival on the top floor. I step out, nervously cracking my knuckles. I can hardly hear my footsteps as I approach the front desk; everything is drowned out by the pulse thudding in my ears. A young woman, a few years older than me, sits typing diligently on a computer. Her name plate readsJenna Green.
“Excuse me?” My voice is trembling, quiet. I clear my throat again. “Excuse me?” The woman’s head snaps up,eyes widening comically when she sees me. I thought long and hard about what I would wear to this meeting but decided on my usual practice clothes. Standard issue scarlet shorts and a reversible practice jersey over a white long sleeve. Boring, but extremely representative of how I want to appear to Jack. Not as his daughter, but a member of the Arrows. A player.
A hooper who bleeds for this team.
“You’re here to see Trenton?” she asks, double-checking her notes on the screen.
My brow crinkles. “Trenton?” I echo. “No, I’m here to see Jack Smith. We have an appointment.” I check my phone’s clock, making sure it’s the agreed upon 9 AM. It’s in fact a few minutes beforehand, as my anxiety propelled me to try to beat Jack to the meeting he called.
She shakes her head. “No,TrentonSmith is expecting you in his office. He’ll take the meeting instead. I’ll walk you over.”
I try to protest, but she efficiently ushers me down the sleek hallway, lined with unusually artistic pictures of railroads and steam engines, the industry that the Smith family made their billions in. I open my mouth a few times, but Jenna keeps a steady hand on my back, pushing me past the office that saysJack Smith: Owner.I crane my neck to peek through the door window, but I don’t see anyone inside. What is going on? Did Jack ask Trenton to take this meeting for him? Or did Trenton pull this behind his back?
Jenna finally drops me off at Trenton’s office, which saysTrenton Smith: Owner and President. Jack transferredthe day-to-day operations to his son a few years ago, prompting the media to praise his practicality and acceptance that young energy was needed to revitalize the franchise. The Archers did win an NBA championship two years ago, so Jack can hardly argue with the results. He’s still involved with all the big decisions, but maybe Trenton took this meeting because he handles the daily operations. The small stuff. Me. Accepting my fate, I knock tentatively on the door.
Trenton’s voice booms out. “Come in!”
I take a calming breath, smooth my customary braids, and push open the door. My frantic heartbeat matches my swirling thoughts.
What if Trenton hates me for possibly breaking up his family? Even though he’s well into his forties, age won’t soften that type of blow. Is my mom the first affair Jack has had? Is this a surprise to Trenton and his mom, Tiffany?What does he think about having a new half-sister?
Trenton’s office is the stereotypical corner office: huge, littered with screens and framed newspaper articles about the Archers. I don’t see any about the Arrows.
“Annie.” Trenton looks up from the paperwork littering his desk. He notices me lingering in the doorway and gestures to the leather armchair across from him. “Please take a seat.” I do as he asks, hoping the leather won’t show my nervous sweat. Trenton gives me a practiced, almost plastic smile as he leans back in his chair. “Thank you for meeting with me.”
I watch him warily. He looks like I remember from our passing interactions. Blond hair, just beginning to thin, striking blue eyes, enormous and expensive watch on his wrist. His tie is the perfect shade of Archers and Arrows’ red. He looks too fancy for this type of meeting, and I try not to petulantly cross my arms over my jersey. “What’s going on?” I finally ask, working to keep my expression neutral. “I thought I was supposed to meet with Jack.”
Trenton picks up a pen, passing it back and forth between his fingers. “Right.” He studies my face. “Dad told me yesterday that he intended to meet with you. He wanted to clear the air.” He waves a dismissive hand. “Make amends or something.” Before I can respond, he raises a cool eyebrow. “I think we can both agreethatwould be a waste of time.”
Even though I’ve been thinking the same thing all morning, it stings a little coming from my half-brother. Maybe he’s bitter that Jack didn’t apologize tohim. I keep my thoughts to myself and my eyes on Trenton. “That doesn’t explain whywe’remeeting.”
Trenton is testing me. He leans forward, blue eyes glinting viscously. “Did you think this was the first time Jack Smith betrayed his family and his legacy for a pretty face?” I freeze, hearing a thread of anger in the pointed question. “It’s not. It’s not even the tenth time. It’s just the first one we haven’t been able to clean up after.”
“Because of me,” I say quietly. I can’t speak any louder, or Trenton will hear the wobble in my voice. Ipray he doesn’t notice how shiny my eyes have gotten. I try to blink it away.
It’s not even the tenth time.
Trenton leans back, pleased with my answer. “Exactly. My father may be a brilliant businessman, but he’s not quite sure what to do about you. So, I offered to help.”
“Help with what?” I’m struggling to follow the conversation. “With the media?”
Trenton shakes his head. “No. The media attention will die down on its own. We just need to lay low.” I nod along, relieved he doesn’t want me to do family interviews or a press conference. “I’m more worried about the future and how you’ll fit into it. Specifically, the Smith family’s legacy: the St. Louis Archers.”
I wait for him to mention the Arrows, even in passing, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t mention them even as I wear their jersey right in front of him. Trenton continues his monologue without waiting for my reaction. “So, I’ve asked my father to step away from the team, maybe take a little vacation.” He drums his fingers on the edge of the desk. “We have a house in Bora Bora he particularly enjoys.” There’s a flash of Jack on the beach, sunglasses on, ignoring me and this mess forever. Hurt prickles in my chest. Trenton continues coolly, “The board agreed that is the wisest course of action. With the accusations of manipulation and bribery, it seemed best that he was no longer involved with the team at all. Maybe never again.”
My mouth is officially open. Trenton finally notices my shock and hurriedly reassures me. “Of course, his legacy in this city is forever. But his direct oversight is no longer needed.”
I’ve never truly known my biological father, but a small twinge of sympathy twists in my ribcage. Is it possible my mom was right? Was he just expressing his love for me through typical billionaire behavior? Jack probably should step down, especially if it’s proven he did something underhanded. However, I wonder if Trenton is truly the best replacement. His smooth talking is almost too smooth. Like every word he says has been rehearsed in the mirror.
I eye him carefully. He almost seems energized underneath the cool facade, as if his eagerness to take over is ripping him apart at the seams. “What do you need from me? I have nothing to do with the management of the team. That’s between you and your father.”
Trenton nods at me condescendingly. “I want you to keep doing what you’re doing.”
I narrow my eyes. “Which is what, exactly?”
