Page 4 of Whoa There Cowboy
I nod and push my tongue into my cheek as my pulse ratchets up. I swear to God, if my first assignment out of the gate is cleaning up a sex scandal, I’ll walk.
“As you know, we’ve owned this team for a long time. My grandpa started it, and a lot of the locals who helped build the stadium seats and level the grounds still live in town.”
“I know, and I love that,” I say with a big smile. The charm is such an easy sell to the media.
“Right, well.” He pauses, wincing.
Shit.
“Thing is, now that our kids are grown and living their lives in other places, Jenny and I don’t really see a future for the Torkelson line when it comes to the Mavericks organization. And well . . .”
He’s selling.
I nod, my mouth pulled tight.
“We could hold on for a few more years, sure. But we have grandkids on the way in California, and Jenny’s always wanted to live by the beach. Retirement in your fifties is the dream,” he says.
“Do you have a buyer?” I know my way around these types of transactions and acquisitions. I’m the daughter of one of the toughest land attorneys in Nashville, and have alaw degree of my own, which I never wanted and don’t plan to use. But it’s come in handy in PR.
Kevin bites the tip of his tongue, his expression stiff. He seems cagey.
“I’d rather not say just yet.”
“Understood. Well, any advance warning you can give me would be good. Time is your best friend in public relations, and preferably before shit hits fans.”
Kevin laughs hard at my metaphor.
“That’s fair. And when that time comes, I’ll be sure you’re in my first round of calls. I just needed you to know because people around here, and I love them all, Sweetwater’s been our home for generations, but they can get a bit . . . pitch-fork-ready when it comes to change. And a new owner for their beloved Mavericks? Well, that’s a big change.”
I nod and step from around my desk, encouraging him to get up and let me get to work.
“I get it, Kevin. And I’ll do everything I can to make sure the stories help show the value of this place and everything your family’s built as best I can. Speaking of, I have a father-son team out there I need to convince to have a sit down with ESPN, so if you don’t mind?—”
“Ha, right. Well, good luck with that. And thanks, Campbell. I appreciate the discretion.”
We shake hands, and I wait for a beat for Kevin to head back to his posh office that overlooks right field.Good luck with that.What an encouraging reaction.
Once Kevin’s out of my view, I duck back into my office so I can swap out my heels for the sneakers I stashed in my tote on my way in this morning. I grab my phone, tuck my tote into the locking drawer in my desk, and am on my way to the field in seconds. Mentally running through myopening lines to Roddy, I’m lost in my own pretend conversations when I step into the concourse that leads to the field level, and I’m glad I changed shoes when my body crashes directly into the massive chest protector and the brawny man donning it about three feet before reaching the dugout entrance.
“Ohhh, whoa! You okay there? I didn’t expect cross traffic.”
I recognize Roddy’s voice immediately, and his warm eyes and chiseled jaw do not disappoint. To say I’m a fan would be putting it mildly. Roddy McKinney may very well be my favorite player. And he’s always good with the press. He’s the perfect storm—a popular player who does what marketing tells him to do.
Time to shoot my shot.
“You’re just the guy I was looking for, actually,” I say, tempering the screaming fangirl that wants to come out.
His warm eyes crinkle as his smile etches into his cheek on one side.
“We haven’t formally met, but I’m Campbell Hines, and I will be handling the press for the Mavericks this season.”
I wait for him to nod, but he doesn’t really react at all. In fact, his expression seems rather frozen, other than the touch of skepticism that suddenly adds to the squint in his eyes.
“Anyhow, I feel like we have so many unique stories to tell in this place.” I look around us and start to sweat. We’re still in the concrete tunnel, so the view is limited. I waggle my head. “I mean,out there,of course. And with the players. Like, well, you for example.”
“Uh huh.” His gravelly response is short, and his expression remains unchanged.
“Yeah. I mean, you’ve had quite a career. And this is where it all started. I’m sure you have a lot of fans inSweetwater who are excited to see their hometown hero on this field again.”
