Chapter Thirteen
Note to self:Never book a trip to Florida during spring break. Ever.
The airport was wall-to-wall people. Baggage claim was a nightmare and the car she had reserved was downgraded to the last vehicle left in the lot. A POS Hyundai that looked like a family of clowns and their kids had just returned it and brought half the beach and their food for the past ten days with them.
Lucas had taken one look at it, shook his head and said, “You know, Miranda, we can afford a slightly better car.”
“Get in the damn car.”
He only chuckled and actually got in the passenger side, well, folded himself into it, really, then pushed the seat back as far as he could, which wasn’t very far.
“First time a guy hasn’t demanded the keys,” she grumbled, stuffing her bag in the small trunk. Thank God he only brought a duffle.
“I don’t think I could fit behind the wheel.”
She slammed the door and dropped the keys somewhere around her feet. She banged her head on the steering wheel looking for it. “This is pathetic. I’m the president and I’ll be driving up to the offices in this piece of shit. How will they ever respect me?”
God, the staff was going to have a field day when she drove up in this. What little respect they had for her would be totally destroyed. She should have driven her Mustang down, not that she liked taking that on long trips. It would have been worth it to be spared the degradation of an economy car.
He grinned and handed her the key. “It all comes down to how you handle it. Treat it like a joke and blow it off and they will, too. You have the flair to pull it off.”
She glanced at him doubtfully then snatched the keys. “Whatever.”
He leaned back, sort of since he really couldn’t stretch his lean six-foot-two-inch frame too far in this car. “Brazen it out. Act like it’s a group of mean girls and you want them to fuck off.”
She giggled at the thought. “Mean girls would be worse than these guys.”
“Exactly. Let’s get going before I lose all blood flow to my feet.”
“Fine.” Her knees banged the wheel as she adjusted the seat. “Let’s get this over with.”
*
By the timethey had maneuvered their way through the traffic and people everywhere, Miranda was in a pretty foul mood. Pissed off at the crowds at the airport and baggage claim and her economy car. But mostly pissed at having to come down here and convince her staff to follow her directions. Her father wouldn’t have had to do that. When Seamus said jump, they starting jumping without even asking how high, how long, or how far. They just did it. For her, they questioned, argued, or flat out ignored her.
And she was damn sick of it.
She parked and exhaled, fingers clenching the wheel. Lucas reached over and covered her hand with his. “Maybe a walk might be a good idea. Loosen up our muscles, relax, calm down.”
“I’m perfectly calm.”
“Sure you are.” He pried her fingers off the wheel.
She made a sound of disgust. “Damn it. How can I persuade them to my way of thinking if they have no respect for me?”
He shrugged. “How would your father do it?”
She stared at him. “You seriously want me to channel my father? I thought you said he drove this team into the ground.”
“I only asked what he would do, not that you should do it. He obviously gets them to do what he wants, even to the detriment of the team.”
“He signs their paychecks.”
“Technically. But in reality, you’re in charge as team president. Stop trying to be their friend and lay down the law.”
She nibbled her lower lip. She didn’t think she could be like her father, stomping around acting all nasty and controlling. But she had to get their attention. What choice did she honestly have? They had to make these changes. Working with them, persuading them, was not working. Cole had been banging his head against their collective brick heads for the past couple of weeks. Lucas was right. It was time for someone to lay down the law. Cole couldn’t do it. It had to be her. One of the aspects of being president her father had often taken from her. Maybe not because he didn’t think she could handle it but because she wasn’t doing it. So he just did it.
She opened the door and swung out, almost moaning at the crack in her back. “We have a season to win.”