Ortiz
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Let me know how it goes.
He decided to call Winners Inc. for good measure, but no one answered. Because he couldn’t imagine sitting in his room and twiddling his thumbs, he called down to the concierge and asked about a men’s clothing store. They called him back ten minutes later, saying that they’d arranged an early fitting for him and had a car waiting to take him.
He always thought it was funny how people catered to him. Inside, he didn’t feel that different from the kid in Encino playing soccer alongside the road in secondhand tennis shoes.
Two hours later, he was dressed in a reasonably well-fitting suit and on his way to 110 N. Wacker, with promises that the rest of his clothing would be delivered to the hotel by the afternoon.
He strolled down the Chicago streets. It was cold out, but he’d been living in England for the past few years, so the weather didn’t bother him. The cold helped snap him out of the last of his jet lag, making him more alert than any amount of caffeine ever could.
He didn’t have clearance up to the Winners Inc. office, so he got in the way he had the day before—he snuck in behind a businessman. He glanced at the time on the ride up, wondering what time MacNiven started working.
The elevator dinged his arrival, and the doors slid open.
Here went everything.He exited the elevator and went down the hallway. With each step he gave himself a similar pep talk to the one he gave himself before stepping on the field.You got this. You know what to do. They’ll take you because you’re a winner.
He stopped in front of the gold Winners Inc. plaque. MacNiven had to take him.
Shaking his head, he went into the office. Like the day before, it was an oasis of calm and style.
There was a young woman peering out from the desk where Lottie had been sitting yesterday. She smiled at him in welcome. “Hello. Can I help you?”
“I’m here to see MacNiven.” He headed off the questions before she could ask. “I don’t have an appointment, but he was supposed to call me today, so I thought I’d help him out.”
“Of course.” She gestured to the sitting room. “Have a seat and I’ll see if he’s available.”
He smiled his thanks and wandered around the lounge, taking it in more closely. Was it all to invite, or to intimidate?
Like the glass coffee table in front of him. With anyone else he’d have thought it was just a style choice. MacNiven probably wanted you to see yourself and reflect on the choices you’d made to get to this point.
Cunning bastard.
Danny leaned forward, looking at his reflection in the tabletop. Braids, no jewelry, no caps, plain white shirt open at the collar beneath the dark-gray suit. Baller, but discreet. He wanted to say he looked like he meant business. As long as he didn’t look like the sort of guy who was going to get arraigned after doing something stupid.
“You’re back.”
He turned around to find MacNiven standing with his hands in his pockets, watching him quizzically. The man didn’t have a suit coat on, instead wearing a tailored vest in a blue that would have looked prissy on anyone else.
He noticed that MacNiven gave him a once-over, and he was glad he’d listened to himself and gotten a suit.
“You were on my schedule to call today,” MacNiven said.
Danny couldn’t tell what that meant. “I thought I’d save you a dime.”
“Come back.” The man gestured with his head as he headed toward his office.
That had to be a good sign, right? Otherwise, MacNiven would have just kicked him out. Relaxing a little, Danny followed him back to his office again.
MacNiven closed the door behind them and pointed to the couch. “Have a seat. Can I get you anything?”
“Just our contract,” he said with a grin as he sat down.
Then MacNiven shook his head. “I was going to call you in a bit to tell you. We won’t be taking you on. I don’t think we can help you.”
Danny blinked, stunned by the crushing disappointment he felt. “What do you mean, you can’t help me?”