My ticket was for a first-class seat, the place where I felt most at ease. I worried when Rhett’s assistant sent my itinerary that I’d be in business class, or worse, coach. It was a relief when the lady at the ticket counter printed out my ticket with the class clearly displayed on the top. As I entered the plane and was ushered into what they considered first-class, my excitement quickly diminished. The seats were larger, and they did recline, but that was about the extent of the difference between my section and the back. It was a short flight, the plane was small, and so what did I expect? I’d better get used to this. My life of luxury was over. Thanks, Dad.
A man wearing a bright red and deep gray shirt held a sign with my name written across it as I walked toward the baggage claim. I extended my hand, introduced myself, and then explained that I had to retrieve my bag. I felt a little foolish for packing so much, but I knew if I agreed to take the position, flying back to get my clothes wasn’t an option until I got my first paycheck. He was gracious, carrying my oversized bag to the car that waited out front. I climbed into the back, tried to calm my racing heart with thoughts of my parents, and how much this would mean to them to know I was okay. I was good at what I did, great actually, so what was I worried about?
“Mr. Hamilton has secured a place for you in one of our team apartments. Would you like to freshen up before your meeting?” the driver asked.
His eyes were the only thing I could see in the rearview mirror. Yes, freshening up sounded great. “That would be perfect.”
The car stopped in front of a tall red-brick building. “I’ll be back for you in an hour,” the driver said cheerfully as he gripped my bag.
I followed him into the building, watching him enter a code in the door too quickly for me to remember. I guessed they’d give that to me if I stayed. He hit the up arrow near the elevators, and once inside, hit ten, the top floor. Impressive.
There was only one door when the elevator opened. A suite? “This is your key,” he said, handing me a large silver key on a Beasts' logo keychain.
“Thank you,” I replied, hoping my voice wasn’t shaking as I spoke.
He waited for me to open the door, carried my bags inside, then left. I looked around the enormous apartment, in awe at the city view, and slightly intimidated by the lengths that Rhett had gone to impress me.
A small recording device was placed on the coffee table with a note beside it that said, “Play me.” I picked it up, hit the play button, and sat down on the couch as Rhett’s voice began to sound through the tiny speakers.
“Welcome, Katrina. I hope that your flight was smooth and that you find your accommodations acceptable. Please make yourself at home. My assistant has ensured that the place is fully stocked, but if you need anything else, you’ll find a company credit card to use in the envelope left on the coffee table. Also, the codes to the building, some quick notes for you to review about the players, and key points that will be discussed during our meeting are included. I look forward to speaking with you soon.”
I was half expecting the last part of the message to include this message will self-destruct in 5, 4, 3, 2…
I chuckled at my James Bond reference, lifted the envelope from the table and opened it to explore the contents promised to be inside. A credit card, sure enough with my name already imprinted on it, was inside. I pulled out the folded papers, opening them to find notes that Rhett had provided for my review. I’d already done my homework on the team, so I skimmed past the part where he advised me to review each player’s social media status. Some of these players were real wild men, badasses, and troublemakers. The Beasts were known for their players' shenanigans. Rhett seemed to flock toward the players with the roughest reputations. Yes, they were some of the best in the league, but with the best you usually got oversized egos, quick tempers, and giant cravings for self-destruction. Rhett was looked at as a glorified babysitter; some called him na?ve for thinking he could tame the players he pulled in. I looked at him as revolutionary. He didn’t fear the bad publicity but used it to his advantage. Let’s face it, without all the problems that Ace, Calvin, and Luke had created during the first two seasons, who would’ve even cared what was going on with this new team? He was smart. So, why did he want me to clean it all up?
A loud buzz sounded inside the apartment as I packed my notes into my bag. “I’m waiting out front whenever you’re ready.” The voice belonged to my driver, but I wasn’t sure where it'd come from. I looked around the room, found an intercom near the front door, and hit the button below it to let him know I was on my way down.
I was nervous as we pulled up to the enormous stadium. The driver escorted me through the large building to a private elevator to which I didn’t have a key. Once the doors opened, he motioned for me to exit, and hit the button to close the doors without stepping out with me. The floors were so shiny they created a glare. The long glass display case offered up the complete uniforms of all the players. “Miss Delaney.” I turned to find an attractive blonde standing before me.
“Mr. Hamilton is expecting you,” she said graciously.
I followed her through a set of thick wooden doors to a large office overlooking the city. The tall buildings, the Long Island Sound, and the view of the city made my heart race. It was breathtaking. Rhett Hamilton stood behind his large walnut desk. His dark hair slicked back from his face, his square chin widened with the curl of his lips, and as he walked around the desk to greet me with an open hand, I felt intimidation run through my veins. He was much more handsome than I remembered, and even more so than in any of his pictures. “So glad you made it,” he said as if I’d done him a favor.
“Of course, thank you for inviting me,” I responded.
His hands were smooth, as if they’d never seen a day’s worth of hard work in their life. He had a strong manly scent, a mixture of pine and musk as he stepped closer to me. The blonde disappeared from the office, closing the doors behind her. “Sit.” He motioned toward the chair in front of his desk.
I took my seat, looked around the office at all the plaques, photos, and sports memorabilia. Not just the Beasts, but the Mets, Yankees, and even some from my dad’s old team, the Braves.
“Did you get a chance to go over my notes?” he asked, sitting back down behind his regal desk.
“Yes. I’d already done the research on the team though,” I noted to show my professionalism and enthusiasm.
He chuckled. “I figured.”
“Do you have any questions for me before I dive into what I need from you?” he asked.
“Yes. Why do you want the image cleaned up? Isn’t the publicity from the players what drove the spotlight onto your team?”
He leaned back into his tall leather seat, his hands clamped together behind his head, and a smile curled on his lips. “You see, this is why I wanted you. You’re smart.”
“So, you don’t want them cleaned up?”
“This is where it gets tricky. I need a good image for my players, one that the fans can respect. But, their bad boy mentality is what keeps the fans interested, so there’s a fine line I don’t want to cross.”