Until We Touch (Fool's Gold #15)

“It’s going to be a lot of work. We’ll have trouble getting players. Good ones, I mean. Sure, there’s student interest, but students are fickle. Tomorrow there will be some rock band blowing through town and no one will show up for the game. It’s expensive and time consuming and it also distracts from the other sports.”


Jack studied Tad’s lean build as he processed the heresy of not wanting a football team. “You didn’t play team sports in college, did you?” he asked easily. “Let me guess. Golf?”

Tad flushed. “Tennis and it’s a team sport.”

“Competing individually. Or at best, in pairs.”

“I played singles.”

“Of course.” Jack leaned back in his chair. “Sorry to interrupt.”

Tad glared at him. “I don’t think football is worth the trouble. We have a regional championship baseball team. Our basketball team is better every year. Two of our graduating seniors in women’s volleyball have a shot at making the Olympic team. That’s enough.”

“It’s good that the scientists working with antibiotics didn’t have your ‘it’s enough’ attitude when they discovered penicillin,” Jack murmured.

President Newham glanced between the men before her gaze settled on Jack. “You want to make a case for a football team?” she asked.

“Sure. Football is America’s game. People like it. It teaches discipline and teamwork. It teaches life.” He paused, then smiled. “On a more practical side, college football brings in money. The Texas Longhorns football program was recently valued at $805 million dollars. That’s just football. Superstar athletes bring in five or ten times what their scholarships are worth.”

“In ten years maybe,” Tad muttered.

“Another one of your long-term views. I’d love to see your five-year plan for the college,” Jack murmured. “I had a coach once who used to say you’re either part of the problem or you’re part of the solution.” He turned to President Newham. “Ma’am, it’s not an easy decision to make. There will be costs and starting a team is a long-term proposition. People may argue that the money is better spent elsewhere. But even if you only end up with an average team, you’ll be bringing in multiples of what you spend to get it up and running. Plus, a good football team is great advertising for the college. Who in America hasn’t heard of UCLA?”

“That could be because of the medical center,” Tad pointed out.

“Yeah, it could,” Jack said easily. “Except every one of those people know they’re the UCLA Bruins and the USC Trojans and the Notre Dame Fighting Irish. You don’t learn that from a medical school.” He paused. “Or a tennis team.”

Tad started to rise from his chair. Jack was kind of hoping the man wouldn’t have second thoughts because every now and then a fight seemed like a good idea. Of course, that belief only lasted until he landed the first blow—which always hurt like a son of a bitch.

“Am I going to have to separate you two?” the university president asked.

Jack grinned. “Probably a good idea.”

She surprised him by smiling back. “All right, Mr. McGarry. Convince me you’re right. Tell me all the reasons Cal U Fool’s Gold should have a football team.”

Jack nodded slowly. “Sure thing. How much time do you have?”

* * *

LARISSA WALKED INTO the project room. It was a big open office with long tables pushed together to form a square. There were huge dry-erase boards on two walls and corkboards on the other two. A screen could be pulled down for computer presentations. Low cabinets held every kind of office supply and craft material. Because the project room was where the magic happened. Mock-ups began here, as did the brainstorming sessions.

Percy sat at one of the long tables, stacks of magazines in front of him. He had one open and was carefully measuring a page with a ruler.

“Whatcha doing?” she asked as she approached.

He glanced up and smiled at her. “Hey, Larissa.”

“Hey, yourself. I see Taryn already put you to work.”

“She did.” He pointed to the magazines. “There are client ads in each one. I’m making sure they’re the right size and in the right part of the magazine.”

He showed her the cover sheet for the ad approval form. It listed the size of the ad—full page, half page and so on—the name of the magazine, the issue number and the page number the ad should be on. At the top of each cover sheet was a small picture of the magazine itself, making the referencing easier.

“The pictures tell me which magazine to look for. Then this number is the page number and the size of the ad is right here. When I’ve checked it all, I put my initials in this box here.” He pointed to the form.

He sounded proud of the work he was doing, she thought happily. “You like working here?”

“Yeah. It’s real interesting. I’ve had jobs before, but not in a place like this. I’m usually sweeping up or cleaning the bathrooms. I worked for a moving company for a few months.” He wrinkled his nose. “This is better.” His smile returned. “Kenny came by a little bit ago and introduced himself. He’s a big guy.”