She led the way to the elevator, punched in her code, and stepped off when they arrived at her floor, all without speaking to him again. She didn’t know what to say, wasn’t sure she wouldn’t just be a wimp and try to get rid of him before he told her whatever it was he was going to say.
Maybe she should’ve tried to get it out of her dad instead, but the fact that Tom hadn’t told her—when they’d always talked about everything—meant that it was bad. She was furious with him for keeping her in the dark but forcing the issue might just lead to the sort of blowup they’d never had. The sort of blowup that might fracture their relationship. She couldn’t face that. Tom was her rock. The constant thing in her world. Ever since her mom had died, he’d been there when she needed him, even when it meant jumping on a plane from half a country away. He’d made sure that she was safe and loved and given her a damn good life.
And now he was lying to her.
That hurt most of all.
She laid her keys in their dish on the entry table in the hall and turned to Alex as she started to unbutton her coat. He wasn’t wearing one. Come to think of it, he hadn’t worn one on the podium either.
Maybe he was wearing long underwear.
Or maybe the fires of hell kept him toasty warm in even the worst weather.
“Are you hungry?” She wasn’t. She felt like she might barf if she tried to eat, but she’d promised to feed him and she wasn’t going to renege on her promise. Unlike some people.
“Sure. You said something about takeout?”
The takeout menu drawer was well stocked. Dev always made sure she had the latest batch of offerings. She spread them out on the counter, waved at them vaguely. “You pick.”
“What’s good?”
“All of it.” Dev weeded out the duds and he knew the things she liked. “Really, I don’t care. You choose.”
Alex frowned. “You look a little pale. How about a drink?” He picked up a menu but kept his eyes on her, not on it.
“I’ve got beer. Soda. Water. Probably wine somewhere.” She probably had whatever he’d like. But it seemed easier to limit the options.
“Beer’s fine.”
She pulled a bottle from the fridge, hesitated, then took a San Pellegrino for herself. After the previous night, more booze wasn’t any more appealing than the thought of food. She should be hungry. She couldn’t even remember what she’d eaten last. There’d been a pretzel on the way to her dad’s. Hadn’t there? The day was blurring in her memory.
Alex took the beer and twisted it open. “Thanks.”
She poured her mineral water into a glass, sipped gingerly, then looked at him. “Might as well get this over with.” She took a seat at the big battered pine refectory table.
Alex nodded and pulled out a chair for himself. “Okay.” He swigged from the beer. “Short version, the Saints are broke.”
“What?” She’d been half expecting it … having run through the scenarios as they’d driven here; it either had to be money problems or her dad had lost his mind but she’d hoped it wasn’t true. “We had a great year.” The Saints weren’t a rich team, never had been, but her dad hadn’t given any hint of them having money trouble. Of course, the team being in trouble didn’t mean his personal money was in jeopardy. He’d always taught her to have a nest egg and to keep business separate from family. Her throat tightened and she made herself take another drink.
“Pretty good,” Alex agreed. “But the global economy didn’t. The Saints’ assets have taken a hit. Actually, they took a hit a few years back. Your dad and his team have been doing what they could but it’s a losing battle. The Saints need money.”
“Which is where you and your friends come in,” she said bitterly.
“Yep.”
“You could have been silent partners. Why take over? You don’t know baseball.”
He shrugged. “Because I want to.”
Because he wanted to. So he would. He could’ve invested in the team. Could’ve chosen not to disrupt things so dramatically. Not taken her dad’s life—and hers—away from them. Yet, he had. Because he wanted to. And really, that told her all she needed to know about him.
“And you always get what you want?”
“Not always. But in this case, yes.”
“And it doesn’t matter who gets hurt?”
“I didn’t hold a gun to your dad’s head, Maggie. He could have said no.”
“If he wanted to let the Saints go under. He would never do that.”
“He could probably have found another buyer. Not such a good offer perhaps but there are other people out there who might have invested.”
“But he still picked you.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t understand.” It blurted from her with a sound that was too close to a sob for her liking. She didn’t understand. Maybe she’d never understand.
“Your dad did what he thought was right. You’d have to ask him why.”
“But he loves the Saints. I don’t know how he could just walk away.”
“Maybe he’s ready for a change. He’s been doing this for a long time.”
“Baseball’s his life.”
Baseball was her life too. She’d counted the days until she would be back home at the Saints. She felt right when she was at Deacon Field or somewhere on the road with the team. Anywhere else, she never felt like she quite fit in. In college she’d hung out with the ballplayers a bit, but that could be awkward sometimes when they were more interested in whether they could get to her dad or his scouts through her than in Maggie herself. But she’d learned to weed out the bad apples fast enough. But even then, surrounded by people who loved the game, it wasn’t the same as being with the Saints.
“People change, Maggie.”
“They don’t give up the things they love.”
“Sometimes they do.” There was an odd note in his voice that broke into her self-absorption.
She glanced upward to see something close to regret float across his face. Curiosity pinged but she squelched it. She didn’t care if Alex Winters had regrets in his closet. No, she was more interested in whether there might be skeletons. Anything that suggested there might still be a way out of this crazy situation.
“You don’t know my dad.”
“Not as well as you do, sure. But we spent quite a bit of time together while we talked about this. He was ready to give this up.”
“Convenient for you.”
“Not really. I have quite enough to do without taking on the Saints as well.”
“Then why do it?”
He shrugged. “Maybe I was ready for a change too.”
“Well, that’s great for all of you. But what about me?”
“That’s something we can talk about, if you want.”
“Unless you’re going to offer me a real job, then forget it.” In fact, even if he did offer her a real job she wasn’t sure she could do it. Couldn’t stay with the Saints and watch someone take over, step into the place she’d been aiming for all these years. Let herself be sidelined. But what the hell was she going to do if she didn’t?
“I’m not going to make you CEO, Maggie,” he said. “For a start, you’re nowhere near qualified.”
She bristled. “I grew up with this team. I know more about baseball than you and your two pals put together.”
“Maybe. But that doesn’t mean you know how to run a multimillion-dollar company.”
“I’ve watched my dad do it all this time. And I’ve spent a lot of years studying how to do it. I’m not an idiot.”
“No, but right now the Saints can’t afford rookie mistakes.”
“You’re a rookie,” she shot back.
“Not at business.” He tipped his beer back and swallowed.
“Baseball’s not just a business.”
“That attitude might be why the Saints are in so much trouble,” he said calmly. “Someone has to make the hard calls. Which brings me back to you.”
“
Me?”
“Like I said. I have a lot on my plate. I can do this. Lucas and Mal and I are a good team. We can do this. But things will be a lot easier if we’re not fighting the team and the fans and the press every step of the way.”
“The press seemed to like you well enough earlier.”
“I haven’t done anything yet.”
That sounded vaguely ominous. “What’s this got to do with me?”
“They all love you, Maggie. So I want you to help smooth the transition. Ease the way while they get used to the idea of Tom being gone and what the three of us want to do with the team.”
“Which is what exactly?”
“Win.”
She rolled her eyes. “Somehow I knew you were going to say that.”
“Wouldn’t you like to see the Saints win a World Series? Or even a championship? Get to the play-offs?”
The Saints had only ever won the World Series once. Over a century ago. “You think you can win the World Series?”
“Not right away. Maybe not even for a few years. But this team can be great again.” He was leaning forward, his expression determined and excited, green eyes intent on her.
She wanted to lean in and hear more. Damn the man. No doubt he could sell snake oil to snakes. She made herself sit back. “You sound like you’ve got it all figured out. You don’t need me.”
“I do. So here’s a proposition. Come and work with me … at least until we’re into the season.”
“Doing what?”
“Whatever I need. Talking to the players, to the press.”
“My degree is in management, not public relations.”
“I’ve seen you do PR pretty well. You’ve been doing it your whole life. Don’t you want this to work out?”
“Quite frankly, no. I’d rather see you go far, far away and leave me and the team alone.”
“Well, that’s honest. But it’s not going to happen. And, at this point, if we go down in flames, then the Saints will go down too. It’d be a pity to see over a hundred years of history come to an end because you’re too damned pissed at me to help out.”
“I thought you said there were other investors.”
“Honestly? Anyone else who buys the team is going to move it.”
She almost dropped her glass, the words hitting her like a gut punch. “Move it?” She hadn’t even considered that possibility.
He shrugged. “The field’s old and small, which means the gate’s not that good and the TV deals aren’t great. Plus we’re the third wheel in New York baseball. It makes more sense to move somewhere else where you can make more money.”
That sounded as though he’d thought about the idea a little too much. Which didn’t help the ache in her stomach.
“So why aren’t you moving it?”
“I told you. The three of us love this team. Right here in New York. We want to see if we can make it work.”
“What if you can’t?”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. But I don’t plan on having to do that. So, if you want the Saints to stay the Saints, then you want to be on my side.”
Was he bluffing? She thought again about the vote and the possibility of the other owners vetoing the sale. Surely her dad would see the light if they did? He wouldn’t let the Saints be relocated, would he?
You thought he’d never sell the Saints. You don’t know what he might do.
“And if I say no?”
His eyes narrowed. She got the feeling not many people said no to this man.
“That wouldn’t be my preferred option. It would be harder on the team. And mean I’d have to make some tough decisions.”
Her stomach lurched. “What do you mean?”
“Like I said. The Saints are in trouble. There are going to be some cuts.”
“I thought you were richer than God.”
“Hardly. And even if I—and my partners—were, that doesn’t mean we’re going to throw good money after bad. We’re not a blank check. There are lots of big-ticket items around here that need to be covered.”
“Such as?”
“The stadium needs a refurb—an expansion would be even better. And a complete security upgrade if Mal’s telling me the truth. The IT system here stinks and the tower needs some structural work too. We need to upgrade the press facilities if we want any chance at a better TV deal.”
“You can’t get all of that done before the season starts.”
“No, but we can do some of it. But it all costs money, lots of money. Even before we start looking at bringing in new players.”
Her mouth dried. Crap. She’d been right about him. “You want to make changes to the team? But they did great last year.”
“They did. But they could do better. Tom should’ve made some cuts. There will be some changes. And all of this adds up. Which means there’s less money for the things that aren’t immediately going to deliver for the team.” His face grew serious.
“Such as?” Her stomach tensed again. She got a sick feeling that she knew what he was going to say.
“We may have to let one of the minor league teams go. And cut back on the ancillary programs. There’s a lot of money going into the urban youth programs and the women’s leagues you started.”
“Those programs are important!” Maggie snapped. “You can’t cut those.”
“I don’t want to. But it’s a matter of priorities. If I’m going to have to spend all my time getting the team on board, then I don’t have time to keep all the balls in the air.”
“You’re blackmailing me.”
“No. I’m just saying that if you don’t come work for me, then you won’t have a chance to help me make my mind up about some of these things.”
“I think that’s a polite way of saying you’re blackmailing me.” The sick feeling in her stomach was being burned away again by anger. This man was unbelievable.
He shook his head. “No, I’m giving you a chance to stay in the game. To fight for the things you say you love. You’re the one who talked Tom into the women’s leagues, and I’m guessing you had a lot to do with the urban programs as well. If you stick around, you can make your case.”
“You’ll keep them if I work for you?”
“I’m not promising anything. I still don’t know how the budget is going to shake out. We’ve done our due diligence but there are still things to figure out.”
“I’m not going to be the team mascot. You can’t just trot me out and expect me to put on the ‘Alex Winters is the greatest’ show whenever you want and sit around doing nothing the rest of the time.”
He grinned. “You think I’m the greatest?”
“I don’t think you want to know what I think of you right at this minute. But if I agree to this, then I want real work to do. And I want you to listen to me and take me seriously.”
“Only if you take me seriously as well.”
She stared at him. This was a truly terrible idea. She knew it, the knot in her stomach knew it, and anyone she told about it would know it. But she couldn’t just walk away and let him upend the entire organization. Undo what she’d worked for all this time.
“What happens after the season starts?”
“Pardon?”
“You said come work for you until the season is up and running. What happens then?”
Alex leaned back in his chair. “The way I see it, there are two possibilities. Either we’ll decide that we work well together and you might stay.”
“Doubtful.” She might be willing to swallow her pride for a few months, but she couldn’t see herself staying with the Saints for good and watching someone else do the job she wanted.
“Well then, that would leave door number two.”
“Which is?”
“You figure out what else you want to do and I’ll help you get it. If you’ve earned it.”
“Excuse me?”
“If you work hard for me, then I’ll help you at the end. A recommendation from me can
open a lot of doors.”
“You weren’t standing at the back of the line when they handed out the confidence, were you?” she said.
“Just stating a fact.”
“You should have been an athlete,” she said. “A certain amount of insane self-confidence comes in handy.”
“Who says I wasn’t?” he said. “And who says it’s insane?”
“I—” The intercom buzzed, interrupting her. Probably just as well. She might have crossed the line if she’d kept going. She wasn’t entirely sure she hadn’t crossed it already. Alex didn’t seem annoyed but you didn’t get to his level in business by showing your hand before you were ready. He’d already shown a slice of ruthlessness that made her wary of what might happen if he was truly crossed. Her studies had shown a man who was liked and respected in the business community but one who wasn’t afraid to make hard decisions.
But what choice did she have? If she walked away from the Saints now, she’d have to go begging to pick up another job at another team. Any real job, that was. She’d probably have to go to a minor team. And she couldn’t quite stomach that.
Maybe it was stupid pride; after all, a lot of people got their start working with a minor league team. However, she wasn’t exactly starting out; she’d been part of the Saints all her life. And stepping down from a major league team to a minor was a sign you couldn’t cut it. Her dad sent people to the minors to give them a chance before firing them. He said you either picked yourself up or were on the way out. And mostly, it was the latter. She couldn’t even remember who the last person Tom had banished was … or yes, yes, she could. It had been Will Sutter. Spoiled rich kid. And, as she remembered him, jackass-in-training. Tom had given him a shot because he’d been friends with Sutter senior. It hadn’t worked out.
Shit. Was that what Alex was doing to her? Humoring her dad? No. She wouldn’t allow it. She wasn’t a pampered princess who’d done nothing to earn her place with the Saints. She could do this. She’d prove it to them all. Including Alex goddamn Winters.
The buzz of the intercom cut through her thoughts again.
The Devil in Denim Page 6
