The Big Time

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

" I KNOW LETTERMAN ISN'T locked in, but you don't really want me to just drop it, do you?" Troy's father asked, his face full of disbelief.

Troy felt his eyes grow moist and he looked away, ashamed for not knowing why but knowing in his heart that the only thing he wanted was to be alone with his mom. At the same time, he didn't want to disappoint his father.

"I just want to go home," Troy said, trying to sound strong. "I've got practice tonight. I almost forgot."

"Because I can make this thing happen, Troy. And buddy," his father said, laughing, "you don't need practice. You don't need anything except to figure out how you're going to spend your money."

"It's not just about the money," Troy said.

"What are you," his father said, "in shock or something?"

"I just don't want to go on TV," Troy said, amazed at how quickly the notion of having the entire country see him, Troy White, on TV had turned sour. "We don't need to whip them up anymore now that we've got the deal. I just want to go home. That's all. I've got football. Can't we?"

Troy's father looked sadly down at his BlackBerry. He punched in some words, waited, then nodded his head and slowly said, "I had a lot of media lined up, but you're right; the real purpose was to hype the deal. Yeah, we can go back. It's okay. Whatever you want, Troy."

Troy wanted to tell his father that it certainly didn't feel like whatever he wanted. It felt as if he'd been swept up in a tornado and didn't have any more say than a tattered sheet of newspaper spinning in the dust and leaves.

"Home," Troy said, and that's where they went.

The plane ride back wasn't as magical as the ride to New York. Troy stared out the window. The afternoon sun glinted off ponds, lakes, and rivers below, leaving the impression not of golden treasure but of worthless glitter scattered carelessly in the wake of a cheap parade.

The attendant offered sandwiches to them both, but Troy's dad waved him off and Troy didn't feel hungry at all. His father worked the laptop twice as hard as he had on the morning flight, something Troy hadn't thought possible. But even as they touched down at DeKalb Peachtree Airport, his father pounded away on the keys without looking up. Finally, though, when the big plane came to a halt, his father did look up to blink and smile and give Troy one of his winks.

"Are you writing apology emails to all the reporters?" Troy asked.

"Apologies?" his father said. "Heck, no. I'm moving money. Making deals. Communicating with my partners. Making the money is just the beginning. Now you've got to put it to work."

"Work?" Troy said.

"Sure," his father said. "Investments. Tax shelters. Trusts. Real estate. Hedge funds. Money is like soap. You let it sit there and the rain washes it away. Time whittles money down to nothing. You have to protect it. Inflation. Taxes. All that."

"You do that, too?" Troy asked.

"Naw," his father said, tapping a finger against his temple. "I'm no expert, but I know people who are. The best. Big time. All of them. I've already got one of my partners setting up an offshore corporation for us-or you, I mean."

"Corporation?" Troy asked as they stood to go.

"Big time," his father said.

Troy followed him out the door, thanking the flight attendant who'd been so nice and stepping into the bright Atlanta sunshine.

When they arrived at Troy's house, his mom's car was sitting by itself in the red clay patch. Troy's dad hopped out and eagerly made for the front door, where he knocked but then went right in.

"Tessa!" he shouted. "We did it! You're rich!"

Troy's mom appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on an apron, her face dusted with smudges of baking flour.

"I've been rich," she said.

"Not like this you haven't," his father said, glancing around the tiny room before putting his arms around her and hugging her and spinning her around until she finally managed to push him away, laughing.

"Okay," she said, her laughter trailing off, "what's the offer?"

"Something too good to refuse," his father said. "So we agreed in principle. I said that of course we had to get you to sign off, but we gave our word."

"Your word that what?" she asked.

"That we'd do this deal," Troy's father said. "I know I said I wouldn't, but I had to."

"You were just to get things going," she said, her voice sounding empty with disbelief. "To 'whip them up,' you said, 'get the bidding started.' We have to check with the Falcons. After everything they've done for us?"

"They'll never match it," his father said. "Mr. Langan is rich, but he won't throw money around like this, Tessa. Just listen. You never listen. It's more than we dreamed. It's more than I asked for. It's a fortune! Fifteen million dollars, maybe thirty-five, forty, even fifty before it's over. Who knows?"

"What are you talking about?" she asked.

"Troy, tell her," his father said. "Tell her why we had to give him our word and kind of lock this thing down."

Troy looked from one of his parents to the other and nodded. "Seth Cole told us either sign it or he wasn't interested."

"I threw out the idea of eight figures, shooting for the moon," his father said. "No one actually offered me that. I was posturing, and he, well, he just made an incredible offer. So, we did it. Don't tell me you don't see how huge this is? It's everything Troy's dreamed of, everything he deserves. And we gave our word. You can't ask us to back out on that. That's not the example you want to set for Troy. How could you be looking at me like that?"

Troy's mom wasn't smiling. She wadded her apron up tight and shook her head. Speaking softly but with a full portion of disgust, she said, "You think it's all about money? It's not. There are other things."

"What other things are there when we're talking fifteen million?" Troy's father asked, his hands hanging limp at his sides.

"Where we live," she said. "Troy's friends. My job."

Troy's father froze, and the twisting vine of a smile grew across his face.

"Aha!" He paused. "Your job. Now I see. Your job, and maybe Seth Halloway's job, too?"

"No one said anything about Seth," Troy's mom argued, her back straightening.

"No." His father was quick. "No one said it, but there it is."

Troy's mom bit into her lower lip and glowered at his dad.

"I knew it," she said in barely a whisper. "Nothing ever changes. People never change. Please go."

"Tessa," his father said. "Don't do this. Think of Troy. Please. We don't have to like each other, but let's get along. This is just business. It's done."

"This is not just business," his mother said, waving her hands in the air. "This is my son. This is our life! Now go."

Troy's father pursed his lips. He gave Troy a sad look, mussed his hair, gripped one shoulder, and said, "It's all right, champ. She'll get over it."

"Don't bet on it," his mom said.

His father didn't even flinch; and as if Troy's mom hadn't spoken, he said, "This is all gonna work out, you'll see. You're my boy, right?"

"Of course," Troy said, liking the hand on his shoulder.

"Dad?" his father said with a smile and a wink.

"Of course, Dad," Troy said.

Troy's mom marched behind his dad to the door, with Troy trailing. When his father opened the Porsche's door, she said, "And don't tell him it's going to 'all work out' like you know something I don't. I don't care who promised what, I'm the one who has the final say. I'm going to look at what's best for Troy, and that's not New York."