Page 14 of The Devil In Denim
“I see it made an impact on you.”
“You can’t please everybody.”
Maggie found it hard to believe he pleased anybody, though there were probably women dumb enough to fall for the “tall, green eyes, dimples, and sun-streaked hair” thing. Lots of them. She sighed. “All right. I’ll play nice. But then you have to tell me what’s going on.”
Ten minutes later she was standing between Tom and Alex on the podium, wishing for a thicker coat and remembering how much she hated photo calls and press conferences. A hundred thousand flashes—or so it seemed—had nearly blinded her, so that all she could see was a blurred outline of the crowd of reporters and big bright floating blotches in front of her eyes. Unfortunately she could hear just fine, and right now she was having to listen to Alex Winters give a perfectly polished, perfectly pitched speech about the legacy her father had created, the history he and his friends had with the Saints, and their plans for the future.
The press seemed to be lapping it up. The players, lined up obediently at the edge of the podium, flanked by Dan Ellis and his coaching staff, didn’t seem quite so delighted, but someone had obviously read them the riot act as well because they all stayed respectfully silent and attentive while Alex talked.
What was really needed in this situation was for Hana to arrive and kick a few heads, Maggie decided. That might take some of the smug out of Alex’s voice. Though, as she listened to what he was actually saying, she had to admit some of it was pretty convincing. But she hadn’t spent years studying sports administration, business, and baseball only to be taken in by a smooth speech. Promises were only so much empty air until they were backed up by legally binding contracts and actions.
By the time Alex finished talking, her vision had mostly cleared. Which only made it more apparent that Alex Winters was, so far, winning the battle for the media. When he paused for breath, taking a moment to look around the park with an expression that was both pleased and full of a certain amount of “master surveying his domain,” Maggie’s fingers curled into her palms. That should be her dad up there, outlining plans for the upcoming season and making deprecating jokes about “just give us one more year.” This was their park. She’d had her sixteenth-birthday party right here on the field and she’d had her first kiss in the very top row of the stadium. This was her place. Hers and her dad’s. But now her dad was second banana, nodding approvingly at Alex from time to time but making no move to take the podium himself.
“So,” Alex said. “Any questions?”
That set off a flurry of yelling and still more pictures. Maggie blinked and ducked her gaze, remembered her old trick of looking down without looking like she was. The first few questions were predictable enough, asking about team roster changes and Alex’s plan for Deacon Field and spring training. Alex dealt with those easily, without having to refer to notes or his coaching staff or the quietly efficient Gardner who stood at the back of the platform.
“I want to know what Tom thinks about all this,” a voice yelled from the crowd. Maggie’s head snapped around to her dad. Tom made a little “settle down” gesture as a chorus of “yeah, Tom, what gives?” type comments swelled up from the reporters.
He cleared his throat, tugged at his tie in his habitual gesture, and then he said, “I think the Saints are in good hands.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Well, first, I’m going to take a vacation. And then, well, maybe I’ll able to watch a couple of games and relax for once.” This earned a few chuckles.
Maggie kept her expression carefully bland as she studied her dad’s face as he spoke, trying to read what lay beneath the practiced “let’s deal with the press” tone. He actually sounded pleased. Or relieved? She couldn’t quite decide which. Nor could she figure out why on earth he’d be anything other than pissed at what had happened.
Not that she knew what had happened. One thing was for sure, after the press conference she wasn’t letting Alex Winters go anywhere before he told her the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.
A gust of wind blew up as her dad raised another laugh from the crowd. Maggie pulled the collar of her coat a little closer. If she’d known that Winters was going to be dumb enough to hold an outdoor press conference at this time of year, she would’ve grabbed a scarf. And different shoes. At least she’d found a pair of gloves shoved in her coat pocket. Alex had talked for almost thirty minutes before he’d started taking questions, and it was starting to look like they’d be here a while longer before the press let them go.
There was another rumble of laughter and then the sound died away. Another blast of wind made the Saints banners behind the podium snap like gunfire as her dad stepped back from the microphones and Alex took up his position once again.
“Next question.”
“What about the other teams? Do you have the owners’ votes?”
She turned her head at that, hope blooming. The other owners. She hadn’t even thought about the fact that they needed to vote in favor of the sale for it to be allowed to go ahead. Maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe Alex and his little cadre wouldn’t be able to buy the Saints after all. She had a sudden urge to cross her fingers and wish for just that, but she restrained herself as Alex smiled at the press.
“I’m confident we have the numbers we need,” Alex said. There wasn’t even the faintest hint of uncertainty in his voice and her little curl of hope shriveled. “Though I’m sure you’ll understand that I can’t talk about that right now. So, who had another question?”
“What about Saint Maggie? What does she think about the sale?”
Alex laughed. “I’ll let her tell you that. Maggie?”
She blinked, startled by the question. “Me?” she squeaked. Then mentally winced. She knew how to deal with the press. Acting like Bambi caught in the headlights wasn’t a recommended technique. “Sorry, can you repeat the question?”
“What do you think about all these changes at the Saints?”
She felt Alex and her dad both turn their gazes on her. For one wild moment she was tempted to yell “it sucks,” but then she managed to remember her agreement with Winters. “I’m with Dad,” she managed. “I think it’s going to be great.”
She glanced upward at Alex. His grin widened. Pleased with how she was performing. Which made her feel a little like a dancing bear. And about as happy as a bear to be in the middle of this circus. Still, she’d made her deal so she was going to stick with it. She made sure her own smile stayed wide and looked back at the sea of faces in front of her.
“And will you be working for the Saints? You graduated a few months ago, right?”
She couldn’t actually see which reporter was yelling the questions. Just as well for him. Because if she knew, he would be off the Saints Christmas card list and onto her personal shit list.
“I—”
