Speakman nodded as though he had already determined that was the way things were with Griff Burkett. “If you can’t do something related to football, what did you plan to do?”
“I planned to serve my sentence and get out.”
“Nothing beyond that?”
Griff sat back, again shrugged as though he didn’t give a shit, reached for his Coke, and took another sip. “I’ve toyed with some ideas but haven’t settled on anything yet.”
“I own an airline. SunSouth.”
Griff kept his features schooled, trying not to show that he was either surprised or impressed, when actually he was both. “I fly it. Or rather, I used to fly SunSouth often.”
Speakman flashed an unself-conscious smile. “So do a lot of people, I’m pleased to say.”
Griff looked around the beautiful room, his gaze stopping on some of its treasures, then came back to Speakman. “I bet you are.”
Despite his drollness, Speakman’s smile remained in place. “I invited you here to offer you a job.”
Griff’s heart did a little jig of gladness. A man like Foster Speakman could do him a lot of good. Now he remembered why the name had sounded familiar. Speakman was an influential force in Dallas, owning and operating one of the region’s most successful enterprises. An endorsement from him, even a minor nod of pardon, would go a long way toward winning back some of the favor Griff had lost five years ago.
But he tamped down his bubbling optimism. For all he knew, the guy wanted him to strain the shit out of the sewage tanks on his airplanes. “I’m listening.”
“The job I’m offering would give you immediate financial relief. I understand that your assets were liquidated to pay the fine the court imposed on you.”
Hedging the truth, Griff said, “Most of them, yeah.”
“Those proceeds were also used to cover substantial debts. Is that correct?”
“Look, Speakman, since you seem to know anyway, stop fishing. I lost everything and then some. Is that what you wanted to hear? I don’t have a pot to piss in.”
“Then I suppose a hundred thousand would come in handy.”
Taken aback by the amount, Griff felt his irritation turn to suspicion. He’d learned the hard way to be wary of anything that seemed too easily come by. If it seemed too good to be true, it probably was. “A hundred thousand a year?”
“No, Mr. Burkett,” Speakman said, smiling, enjoying himself. “A hundred thousand to seal our deal. Using a term you’re familiar with, it would be like a signing bonus.”
Griff stared at him for a count of ten. “A hundred grand. U.S. dollars.”
“Legal tender. It’s yours if you say yes to what I propose.”
Griff carefully removed his ankle from his opposite knee and set both feet on the floor, buying time while his mind spun around the amount of money and how badly he needed it. “Are you thinking about using me to advertise your airline? Billboards, commercials, ads? That kind of thing? I wouldn’t cotton to posing naked, but it could be negotiated.”
Speakman smiled and shook his head. “I realize that endorsements were a significant part of your income when you were the starting quarterback of the Dallas Cowboys. That Number Ten jersey sold a lot of whatever it was advertising. But now I’m afraid an endorsement from you would repel customers, not attract them.”
Even knowing that was true, Griff was pissed off to hear it. “Then what did you have in mind? Who do I have to kill?”
Speakman actually laughed out loud. “It’s nothing that drastic.”
“I don’t know anything about airplanes.”
“This isn’t airline related.”
“You need a new yardman?”
“No.”
“Then I’m fresh out of guesses. What do I do to earn my hundred thousand dollars?”
“Make my wife pregnant.”