He liked that she didn’t pretend to not know what he was talking about and didn’t try to fill the silence with inane babble. Instead, she waited patiently for him to continue.
He shook his head to clear the ghosts. “Never mind. Did you want to talk about something?”
Something flashed in her eyes, sympathy maybe, quickly masked by a business facade. “Did you speak with the commissioner?”
He grimaced but nodded. “I did. He had concerns.”
She snorted. “I’ll bet.” She paused, looking out at the field. “I used to love to come here every day. I loved game day the best– the excitement of the crowds, the chants, the rowdiness of the park. So different from my usual days.”
“Beauty pageants didn’t get all physical, with cat fights backstage? I know quite a few guys who’d be disappointed to hear that.”
“Are you one of them? Sure, girls could be rough but it was sneakier stuff. Stealing makeup, hiding wardrobe or talent props. On the surface, everything was sweetness and light but under it all, girls could be vicious. But baseball, it’s all out there. A player gets pissed and he charges the mound. Fans yell their opinions. Everyone is honest and up front.”
“I never pictured you as a baseball kind of girl.”
“Well, I didn’t think you’d be in baseball either. Didn’t you want to do something else, anything else?”
He flushed, remembered anger from his past arguments with his father clouding his mind.
Desperately wanting to avoid any talk of the past, he spoke more harshly than he wanted. “People grow up and change. Can I help you with something?”
She quickly masked the flash of hurt and drew upright. “I spoke with Tom in Houston. He said you consulted with their turnaround and had some good ideas.”
He narrowed his eyes. “What are you getting at, Miranda?”
“I have some ideas and I’d like you to partner with us on our turnaround.”