Cole was already shaking his head and Jason was smothering a laugh behind a strangled cough and a discreet sip of water.
Miranda shot them a dark look. “Not helping.”
Cole shrugged then a thoughtful look passed over his face. “Here’s a thought. I know you like to run everything, Mr. Callahan, but why not let Miranda liaise with the representative? She’s the president and handles most of the day-to-day operations. She could keep him mired in daily duties where he might be able to help. Baseball operations can stay as they are.”
Miranda stifled the flash of annoyance at the suggestion that, yet again, she should not be included in baseball operations, players, trades, and so on. After earning her MBA, Miranda had worked her way up through the organization. Partly out of love of the game, but mostly seeking her father’s approval, fruitless as that effort had proved to be. He’d hired her because she was his daughter, but he never gave her credit for understanding the game or industry as well as spreadsheets and budgets. To him, the “real” baseball stuff should be left to the men. He didn’t seem to notice how all the men had mucked it up, including himself.
Seamus’s eyes grew pensive. “That’s not a bad idea, Hammonds. I like it. Miranda, you’ll work with whomever they’re sending and we’ll get the team back on track. Perfect.” His hands clapped together once and everyone jumped. “Now, what about our catcher situation?”
“Hang on.” Miranda raised her hand, then lowered it when she realized when she’d done. “I don’t think this is the best idea.”
Her father cocked an eyebrow. “You have a better idea? The consultant would be thrilled to cut costs in some of our operations. And we probably could use it. As long as he doesn’t touch my team.”
She inhaled sharply and leaned forward, lowering her voice for her father to hear. “I’m the team president, not the vendor manager. We discussed me taking more team responsibilities on from you, like other presidents. I disagree with this approach.”
He narrowed his gaze. “Not open for discussion, Miranda. Now, on to our catcher situation. Not to mention our first baseman. This is becoming a common theme. Last year we lost Suarez and then signed Friar, who barely lasted a couple of months.”
“Sorry for helping your team get into the playoffs, not to mention you only offered a three-month contract,” Jason said, a former first baseman for the Knights. Well, for a few months at least.
Miranda shot him a sympathetic smile. If anyone in the room understood the cheap shots her father slung like hash in a diner, it was Jason Friar, victim of her father’s insults throughout the second half of the previous season. He was rewarded, or some said punished, with an offer of employment. She still didn’t understand why he took it, but was grateful he was there to lead their young players in their first steps of big league fame and fortune and the pitfalls that come with a major league baseball contract. Before she became president, she headed up public relations. In that role, she was often called upon to deal with the fallout from some stupid stunt a player had pulled when out with friends the prior night. Jason had made those same mistakes and knew how to guide the young players towards a better route. And it helped that his fiancée was now the head of publicity, trying to get ahead of any bad press.
Seamus barely glanced at Jason. “You got your reward. Besides, you did abandon us. You and that bum shoulder.”
“That’s not the issue.” Cole stepped in smoothly before the conversation could turn even more adversarial. “Right now, we still need a first baseman. Lockhart is still not quite up to snuff fielding or in the batter’s box.”
“He’ll be fine. His swing is solid and his fielding is outstanding. He worked this off-season. He deserves the chance,” Jason stated. “More importantly, he’s cheaper than someone else.”
Cole nodded. “True. We signed him to a big contract out of high school four years ago and he’s been on a steady climb. He was even named one of the Future All-Stars two years running. Besides, our Triple-A team sucks. He’ll be wasted down there.”
Seamus snorted. “He’s a kid. We need a big name. Trade him for Mendoza. He’s a proven player, both in the field and in the box.”
Jason leaned forward, red seeping into his face, a vein pulsing in his jawline. “You’re wasting good talent. You need him and other guys to build a solid, long-term team. Not keep trading them away. And Mendoza adds too much to our payroll. We can’t afford his salary.”
Cole, again, inserted himself in the middle. “Jason’s right. Lockhart’s perfect.”
Seamus growled but shuffled some papers in front of him. “Why didn’t you sign a free agent like I asked?”
“The price was too steep and no one was worth it. We can’t afford to compete with the Yankees, Sox, or almost anyone else. And they’re the ones who signed the big fish. Most of the other players stayed put this year.”
“Then make a goddamn trade. Make something happen! You’re the damn general manager. I pay you for more than excuses.” Seamus’s hand slammed on the table, knocking over his water glass.
The silence that followed was as deafening as the yelling before. Only the buzz from the lights filled the space. The water slowly, inexorably drifted closer to the conference speaker phone. Seamus’s bushy eyebrows were furrowed and he scowled fiercely at each person, but no one said anything. At that moment, there was a knock at the door and Ruth, Seamus’s assistant, poked her head in. Anyone else would have ducked, expecting something thrown at the door for the interruption, but Ruth had been with Seamus since his early days and she knew his moods and knew he would never do anything to her.
“What is it?” Seamus growled.
For the first time Miranda could remember, Ruth hesitated, looking from her to Seamus. “The league’s representative is here. A Mr. Lucas Wainright?”
For another long moment, there was silence, with Seamus staring at Miranda.
Slowly, recognition dawned and his face paled. “Wainright? Is that—”
Before he could finish his sentence, Miranda stood. “Please show Mr. Wainright to my office. I’ll be right there.”
Ruth nodded and slipped out the door, closing it softly behind her. Miranda grabbed a few napkins and cleaned the water.When in doubt, do something. It always filled any awkwardness, at least according to her mother. When she was done, she tossed the soggy remainder in the garbage and gathered her things.
“Yes, father. It’s Lucas Wainright.”
He growled. “I’ll be damned if I let that young pup take over my team.”
“Afraid karma’s going to kick you in the ass, Callahan?” A man’s voice drawled from the doorway where he stood, with Ruth’s anxious face behind him.
Somehow she didn’t think they’d seen the worst of Seamus’s rage yet.