“You used to be audacious and sexy. Virgil made you old before your time. You don’t dress like yourself anymore, and I could just cry.”
No. She didn’t dress like her mother anymore. “Maybe we can go out to dinner afterward. Tomorrow night’s game against the Canucks will be my first as the official owner and I don’t want to screw it up.”
“How could you possibly screw it up?”
So, so many ways. “I’m sure the press will want to talk to me afterward. I just don’t want to embarrass the guys.” She took a drink and thought of the pain in Ty Savage’s eyes when she’d asked about hiring Terrible Ted. “Or myself.” Especially herself. “I don’t want to look dumb. I’m terrified they’ll ask me questions and I won’t know the answers.” And the likelihood of that happening was probable to certain.
Valerie nodded like she understood the dilemma perfectly. “You need a good outfit,” she said, offering motherly advice. “Something tight.” She pointed to her large breasts. “Low cut. Flash any man enough cleavage and he’ll forget every intelligent question in his head.”
Chapter 4
Julian Garcia was Irish and Hispanic, with the fashion flair of Doctor 90210, a.k.a. Robert Rey, thrown into the mix. To his first meeting with Faith, he wore a gold Saint Christopher necklace visible inside the collar of his purple-and-pink-striped shirt. His black trousers were tight and his hair was spiked with gel. He was one snappy dresser, but the most striking thing about him wasn’t his brave use of color or even his green eyes, but his muscles. He was five-six with his boots on and had a neck the size of a tree trunk. The man was serious about his workouts. The kind of serious that made Faith wonder if he was gay. Not that it mattered, but a lot of the muscled-
up bouncers who worked in strip clubs were gay.
Faith had met with Jules at a little after noon in Virgil’s office—well, hers now—inside the Key Arena. The first question she asked was, “Did Virgil fire you, or did you quit?”
“I was fired.”
“Why?”
He looked her in the eyes and answered, “Because he heard me talking about you.”
At least he was honest. He could have lied and she’d have never known. “What did you say?”
He hesitated. “Basically, that he’d married a stripper with big boobs and he was a fool.”
Virgil wasn’t a fool, but the rest was true. She had a feeling there was more, but she didn’t ask. It was ironic that he’d been fired because of her and here she was, offering him his job back five years later. She asked him a few more questions about his relationship and job with Virgil. When he spoke, he looked into her eyes, not her chest. He didn’t talk down to her, nor did he act as if her questions were silly or stupid.
“Don’t worry about not knowing everything. This organization has somewhere around fifteen different departments and basically runs itself,” he told her. “Virgil was a shrewd businessman and he treated it like one of his corporations. Because that’s really what it is, and one thing he did very well was put smart people into position and let them do their jobs.”
“You make it sound easy.” But she knew it wasn’t.
“Not easy, but not hard, either. Virgil didn’t micro-manage the organization, and you certainly don’t have to.” He paused to straighten the crease in one leg of his pants. “In fact, I would suggest that you don’t. The executive management does that hard work for you.”
By the end of the meeting, she wanted to hire him, but he wasn’t so sure he wanted the job. “The thing is,” he said, “I like my job at Boeing. I’m not sure I want to come back.”
Faith didn’t know if he was holding out for more money or if he was telling the truth. “Why don’t you come to the game tonight?” she offered. “You can decide then.”
Now, seven hours later, she and Jules were seated on the sofa inside the owner’s skybox poring over a stack of files he’d carried up from the office. She’d worn her black Armani suit, white blouse, and black spike heels. She wanted to be taken seriously, and she knew there were people out there just waiting for her to show up someplace wearing a short skirt and bra top.
The first order of business was to learn her players’ names and their positions and to look over the schedule. As Jules went over the team roster, cheers and boos from the arena below filtered upward to the luxury box while snippets of music blasted from the sound system.
“Yes!” her mother hollered from the balcony overlooking the arena. “Faith, come quick. The camera’s on me and Pebbles. We’re on the big TV.”
Faith glanced over at her mother, clutching her evil dog and blowing kisses like a movie star. Big pink and orange bracelets slid up and down her wrists. She wore a pair of hot pink stretch leggings and a lace blouse with a pink bra underneath. Her blonde hair was layered and sprayed into the perfect shaggy Farrah ’do. “Oh God,” Faith whispered.
“She’s a nice lady,” Jules said and sat back. Obviously, her mother’s strange brand of mojo still worked. Not that Faith was surprised. Gay or straight, men liked Valerie.
“She’s embarrassing.”
Jules laughed. “She’s having a good time.”
“You can laugh because she’s not your mother.”
“I’m the oldest of eight children. My mother doesn’t have that kind of energy.” He reached into a file and pulled out a stack of papers. “This is a game schedule for the first round of the playoffs.” He handed it to her. “And I printed off a brief bio of each player for you to look at. When you become more familiar with the team, we can go over their contracts so you know who your free agents and unrestricted free agents are.”
Faith pushed her long hair behind one ear and perused the schedule. She’d known they played a lot, but she hadn’t realized there were several games a week. “What is a free agent, an unrestricted free agent, and what is the difference?”