Page 81 of The Devil In Denim
“That would’ve been difficult given we were inside the stadium but I take your point,” Alex replied.
“Besides,” Lucas said. “Last night you didn’t know about his little adventure into baseball entrepreneurship. Still, it’s a pity he didn’t choke on his nachos.”
“I think we’re straying from the subject,” Maggie interrupted. “Let’s all just accept that the man is a dick and get back to how we stop him from getting his hands on the Saints.” She turned back to her dad.
“So, Dad, are you going to help us or not?”
There was a pause that lasted just a little too long before Tom nodded with a sigh. “I’ll do what I can. But I can’t promise a miracle.”
Maggie threw her arms around him and kissed his cheek. “We don’t need a miracle if we have you.”
She sounded so confident. Was she pretending for Tom’s sake? Or his? Her father had hurt her with this sale, hurt her deeply, and yet she still believed in him. Maybe she’d trust him that much one day. Though he’d have to start with making up for leaving so abruptly earlier. That wasn’t a good way to end a first anything together.
Mind on the game, Winters.
Damn.
Maggie had been right. This was complicated. Because right now he needed to be all business and all he wanted was more pleasure. Which wasn’t going to save the Saints or Maggie’s opinion of him.
After they left Tom’s house, they reconvened for a council of war back at Deacon Field.
The conversation was fast and furious and Maggie was kept busy, taking notes for herself on her laptop and interjecting her own suggestions while Lucas wielded a pen on a big whiteboard and Mal paced around the room. Alex, like her, was busily typing things on his laptop and fielding phone calls in between bouts of their discussions.
Everything stopped for the phone calls. They spoke to Dan Ellis and Hector, and then Alex started pulling in the rest of the management team for a planning session for the press conference they were going to hold at sunset.
Lucas had suggested waiting until Sunday morning, but Maggie—and Alex—had disagreed, pushing for today before Sutter could get too much of a head start.
Alex managed to talk Tom into coming to the stadium for the press conference, and then the incessant talk and arguments and strategizing started up again.
When the furor threatened to get too crazy, Alex put two fingers into his mouth and sent a whistle that would’ve deafened an elephant, cutting through the noise.
“Right,” he said, when silence fell. “I appreciate everyone’s input but we need to put some order into chaos. First step, the press conference. We know the message, that we’re standing behind our bid, that we’re the best for the team, and that we’re confident that we have the numbers, et cetera. So I want a media release ready to go right after we’re done. And we need to get things set up.”
He looked across at Gardner who was texting on one phone and taking calls on another. “Logistics. Gardner is in charge, so anyone with questions about those, ask him. He’ll be contacting everyone we want to attend … including the players. The rest of you, we need to get a handle on Sutter’s businesses, his finances, and his past. We need to know what makes him tick and what his pros and cons are. Particularly the cons. Find out what will make the man unattractive to the other owners. I want the first-cut analysis by lunchtime tomorrow. We need to be able to really hit the ground running on Monday.”
He gazed around the room. “Any questions?” Everyone stayed silent. “Okay, good. Then listen up while I split you into teams.” He started pointing at people and assigning them to tasks or teams. In the end, only Maggie and Mal hadn’t been given a job to do.
“What am I doing, making coffee?” Mal asked as he poured himself another cup.
“You work with Gardner on the press conference. Do whatever you want securitywise. No doubt Sutter will try and slip someone into the crowd to take notes. It would be good if we can spot them, but I’m guessing he’ll have a reporter or two in his pocket so it might not be that simple. Still, crowd control, keep it to the genuine press, keep the paparazzi and the rubberneckers out, okay?”
Mal nodded and walked over to Gardner.
“Am I meant to be making the coffee then?” Maggie said. “I could help with the analysis of Sutter’s companies. I got pretty good at that at school.”
Alex shook his head. “First things first. I need you on the podium at the press conference with the three of us. Right now, to a lot of people you are the Saints. I’ll use Tom too but I want to keep his part brief for now. Reiterate his support, but the focus needs to be on the next generation. On us. So, we need to figure out what we’re going to say. Okay?” He paused, looked her up and down. “Do you have different clothes here?”
She’d worn jeans and a sweater to Tom’s, that being the quickest thing to throw on. She hadn’t thought about the possibility of a press conference. Dumb. She should’ve known that Alex would want to come out swinging and make his case as quickly and emphatically as possible. Then she remembered where they were. “I have clothes at Dad’s. Veronica can bring me some.”
Alex nodded. “Good. If she can’t, send a car with someone to get what you want.”
Maggie nodded, trying to push away the feeling that she was being shoved back into the Saint Maggie figurehead box again. “I’ll do that, then come help you.” She smiled a lopsided smile at him. “I wish you didn’t have to deal with this crap.”
“Well,” he said, “I’ve dealt with worse than this before now. We have a strong case … so we just have to make others see things our way.” He sounded confident. But then again he always sounded confident. Maybe confident was his default setting regardless of what he actually might be feeling inside. But now wasn’t the time or place to try and find out what that might be, no matter how much a part of her itched to slip her fingers through his and ask him how he was feeling. A part of her that wanted to just lean into him and let him put his arms around her until some of that confidence rubbed off on her as well. But there was that pesky boss-versus-boyfriend thing again. No can do. And after the way they’d parted that morning she wasn’t even sure he wanted to.
Still, she had to suck it up for now. There were bigger fish to fry and she and Alex—whatever they were—had to wait.
It couldn’t be that hard just to wait, could it?
