The Devil in Denim (8 page)

“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.

She picked up the phone. “Yes, Dev?”

“Mrs. Tuckerson is here to see you. And Ms. Finch. And Oliver Shields.”

Ollie was here? With Hana and Shelly. Damn. She knew a council of war when she saw one. They weren’t going to react well if they found the object of their ire sitting in her kitchen.

Time to pick a side, it seemed. Or be the one left standing while everyone else started the game without her.

“Let them up,” she told Dev, and hung up the phone.

“Visitors?” Alex asked.

“My friends.”

“Who?”

“Hana Tuckerson, Shelly Finch, and Ollie Shields.”

“You’re friends with Ollie Shields?”

Typical that he homed in on the one male in the trio.

“Ollie and I practically grew up together.” Oliver had joined the Saints as a very green rookie at seventeen when Maggie had been fifteen.

“You two dated, didn’t you?”

“A long time ago.” She smiled at the thought. Ollie had been her first big crush. And somehow they’d burned that out and come through to the other side still friends. “How did you know—”

Three sharp raps on the door. Hana’s knock. “Hold that thought.” She stepped toward the door.

Alex moved to block her. “I need your decision.”

“Now?”

“Yes.”

“I’m not allowed five minutes to think about it?”

“Not when you’re about to let the wife of our star pitcher, the team captain’s fiancée, and the best first baseman we have through the door. You need to figure out what team you’re on. Because if it’s mine, then your job starts now. With them.”

“They’re my friends.”

“Which should make things easier for you.”

If he thought that, he didn’t know her friends.

“I really don’t like you,” she said flatly.

“That’s fine, as long as you don’t tell them that. If you’re going to work for me, that is.”

“You want me to sign my name in blood or something?”

He laughed and she froze. Mistake. Do not make the man laugh. When he laughed she forgot he was the devil and just wanted to make him laugh again to get another hit of the wash of approval that skated over her skin at the sound.

“Despite what you think, Maggie, I’m not the devil. I’m not after your soul. Just your help.”

“That’s what the devil would say,” she countered.

“Perhaps. But look, no contract, no pen, and no knife to slice a vein open to get to your blood. So maybe I could get the benefit of the doubt.”

Not likely. But she managed to take a breath. “Maybe. But I want a contract though. You don’t get to boot me out the door if you don’t like what I’m doing.”

His eyes lit. “Ah, a bargain. Fine. I’ll get Gardner to put something together. Though I warn you. He writes an even nastier contract than Beelzebub would.”

Hana’s knock came again, followed by, “Maggie, open up!”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Maggie said, then walked to the door to let her friends in.

Chapter Five

Alex stayed where he was while Maggie opened the door. Her friends spilled into the apartment, led by the tiny Hana Tuckerman carrying a stack of three pizza boxes and wearing a determined expression. In her wake came Ollie Shields, who Alex had met briefly when the players had assembled before the press conference. With dark hair, designer stubble, and eyes the same sort of deep brown as Maggie’s, the first baseman was very popular with female fans. His skills on the field meant the guys mostly forgave him for it.

Ollie looped an arm casually around Maggie and gave her a hug. His other hand held a carrier bag stretched by a couple of six-packs of beer.

Alex frowned as Maggie leaned into Ollie. The two of them looked like a matched set. Tall, sporty, dark-haired. They even wore equal expressions of pleasure as they smiled at each other.

“You look tired, Maggie J,” Ollie said.

“It’s been a busy few days,” Maggie said, with a sideways glance at Alex. “I’m fine.”

The third of the trio, Shelly Finch—nearly as tall as Maggie but icy blond rather than dark—followed Maggie’s look and her eyebrows shot up. “Alex Winters.” She smiled at him, red-painted lips stretching wide. “You’re not who I was expecting to see here.”

She took a few steps toward him. Of the three women, Shelly was the most New York slick of them. Which made sense given she was the one who worked in the thick of the ever-competitive New York social scene. He’d crossed paths with her a few times at galas and fund-raisers. As always, she was perfectly made up, her straight blond hair looked as though she’d just stepped from a salon, and her clothes were expensive. The rock on her left ring finger was big enough to use for batting practice. Which meant Hector Moreno was being extravagant. He was paid well but the Saints’ top salaries didn’t match those of the richer teams.