The Total Package Read Online Free Page B

personally.
    “My name is Clinton Barrow,” the man replied evenly. “I’m one of the owners of the Austin Mavericks.”
    Tyson knew the name. Barrow was one of those high-profile dudes whose family made their fortune in crude. Clint and his oil baron cronies started the Mavericks a decade ago after deciding that the fine people of Austin shouldn’t have to choose between the Cowboys and the Texans when it came to professional football. He prided himself on being a hands-on guy who was loaded but classy. While he wasn’t above the occasional spectacular stunt, he didn’t drive a big Cadillac convertible with steer horns mounted on the grille.
    “I didn’t recognize you without the hat,” Tyson said, referring to Barrow’s signature ten-gallon Stetson.
    “The missus doesn’t like me to wear it in the house.” Clint grinned. “But I didn’t bring you here to talk about wives. I’m sure they’re not on your list of favorite topics either.”
    Tyson rubbed his face again. Jessa Thompson, the former Mrs. Palmer, wasn’t on any of his lists. Tyson really couldn’t blame her. She had been one of his last attempts to make himself appear an upstanding citizen. It was a whirlwind romance that started when he met her after her failed Blitz Babes cheerleading audition. He swept her off her feet and provided her with a lavish and highly publicized wedding. She was beautiful and sweet and they made a lovely couple. Tyson tried to be a good husband at first, but he was already too far gone. And he never took into account just how shrewd his wife was. She remained unassuming and adoring, right up until the day TMZ broke the Carla Dowe story. By the time he rushed home, she had blocked his number from her cell phone and packed up all her belongings (plus some of his) and gone, leaving behind only a note with her lawyer’s contact info. He had signed the papers that officially ended his marriage while in a stupor over a month ago.
    It was clear that Clint Barrow had done his homework on him, but why?
    “At this point, I would’ve thought there was something wrong with Jessa if she stayed,” Tyson said, sighing, giving up and falling back onto the bed. “You still haven’t told me what I’m doing here.”
    “I have a proposition for you,” Clint said. “A one-time deal designed to mutually benefit both of us.”
    Tyson stared at the ceiling, trying to gather his bearings and sighed again. “I don’t know anything about the Blitz that can be of any use to you.”
    Clinton Barrow shook his head. “I’m not looking for insider information. That would be cheating, and I abhor cheaters. What I have in mind is more of a long-term investment. This one is all about you, if you’re man enough to accept the test.”
    Tyson steadied himself on his elbows to get a better look at his would-be benefactor. “Go on.”
    Clinton Barrow waited a moment. The smile was gone and he became all business. “I’m going to buy your contract at the fire sale, and you’re going to win me a Super Bowl.”
    Despite the war raging between his stomach and his head, Tyson laughed. “You’re out of your mind. I couldn’t pay to play football now, even if I wasn’t flat broke.”
    A general grumbling could be heard from the Goons at the perceived insult directed at Barrow. Clint didn’t join in and instead leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You have a hell of an arm, Palmer. And I believe you have a good head on your shoulders, or at least you did, before you started spending all your time in the gutter. If it wasn’t for your no-account daddy taking you out to the strip clubs instead of the woodshed, you wouldn’t be in this mess. But here we are. And if you were any closer to thirty, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation.”
    Barrow paused for full effect so that Tyson might recognize the gravity of the situation before he continued. “Now here are the terms I’m offering you. You’re going to leave