“What do you need me to do?” I asked, still confused on why I was here.
He leaned forward, placed his elbows on the desk and gazed at me with an intense stare. “You know baseball. Hell, you were raised by one of the best players in the league, and a bad boy in his own right, I’d like to add. You wouldn’t change what makes your father who he is, but wouldn’t it be nice to create a smooth edge that allowed everyone to see what you see?” he asked.
I was stuck on the not changing what makes my father who he is. That part, I didn’t entirely agree with. But, I did understand what he was trying to do. Many people looked at my dad as a hot head, but he was really a teddy bear. It was passion that drove him to go face to face with the umpires, passion that created the fights with other players on the field. “Okay. I think I understand what you’re trying to accomplish.”
His grin widened, and his eyes softened as he leaned back into his chair. “Good.”
“My players' publicity, good or bad is what got us where we are. But, now it’s time to create good PR without taming the Beasts too much. So, rein them in as much as possible without killing their spirits. For everything they do to create bad publicity, coat it with ten great things to create positive publicity.” His words sounded rational in my head, but implementing what he set out for was going to be tough, maybe even impossible.
“I can do that,” I said confidently.
“Does that mean you’re in?” he asked.
There was no discussion of salary, wage, or workload. Normally I wouldn’t have cared, but now it was all that mattered. Whether or not I could do the job he wanted was irrelevant to what he was going to pay me to try. “I’d like a bit more information on my position,” I said, hoping that was enough to encourage the discussion of money. Rhett Hamilton was a business man, so he had to respect that I needed the details before signing. But he was used to getting what he wanted, that was obvious. His demeanor was cocky but kind. He was the man who spit out what he wanted and had three dozen people at his feet vowing to make it happen, no questions asked. I didn’t have that benefit anymore, thanks to my daddy. I needed details. I couldn’t afford to move to a new city for another unpaid internship.
His smile faded as his expression turned serious. He grabbed a pen, scribbled on a piece of paper, and pushed it in my direction. “The apartment you’re in now will remain available to you for three months, until you can find a place of your own. Of course the company card is yours to use for anything you need relating to the position, and this is what the position offers,” he said, lifting his hand from the white paper.
I slid it from the desk, looked at the generous salary with more zeros than expected, and tried not to show too much enthusiasm as I looked back up at Rhett. “And the position responsibilities?” I asked, clearing my throat to eliminate the cracks in my voice.
“That is where Lana will have to take over. You will be answering to me, no matter what she tells you. Not everyone likes my plan to keep the bad boy image, so you’d be my inside girl, so to speak. You would be expected to interact with players, coordinate charity events, update social media pages, and of course, keep a close eye on all the press surrounding the team and each player individually.”
Overwhelmed with emotion I was trying to force back, I simply nodded.
“Do we have a deal?” he asked, standing to extend his hand to me one last time.
I was excited; ecstatic really. Of course we had a deal. “I look forward to the challenge,” I said, reaching out for his hand. “Thank you for this incredible opportunity.”
He shook my hand, then pushed a button on his desk. “I want you to meet Lana. She will fill you in on everything you need to know.”
Seconds later, a tall woman with fire red hair spiked atop her head entered the office. She wore cat-eye glasses with a gold chain, bright red lipstick, and a pants suit that looked manly and unflattering on her thin frame. “Lana Lawson, PR and Marketing Director for the Beasts,” she said with authority. Her hand extended to me with a stiff arm. I wondered if her face had ever smiled.
“Katrina Delaney,” I responded, taking her hand for a formal introduction.
“I want you to show Katrina the ropes. Give her access to everything and everyone. She is our new social media management lead for the team and the players.” Rhett gave her a stern look. It was evident she wasn’t pleased with her orders as her lips pursed tightly together and her grip on my hand tightened.
“Of course.” Her mouth spread open in what appeared as an attempt to smile, showing more teeth than an angry Rottweiler.
Lana was quick to escort me from the office alone, to get her shiny white teeth into me I was certain. “Everything you do goes through me first,” she barked. I smiled and nodded, knowing that Rhett had told me otherwise.
“Set up your Google Alerts with the team name, all the players, and anything surrounding our brand.” I’d already done what she requested but simply nodded instead of trying to prove myself worthy in the moment. I walked fast to keep up with her long legs. Her high heels made a vicious sound on the hard floor, and her long, manicured nails snapped hard against her phone as she tapped with a vengeance at the screen. “Why Rhett has given you such access to the venue, I have no idea. But be careful where you tread, this isn’t a local radio station that can handle a few mistakes. This is major league baseball, the Beasts, a New York team, a new team; it takes precision, dedication, and patience to get it right. So you do nothing without my approval, got it?” she said in a professional but cold tone, hitting the down button on the elevator with her long red dagger.
She’d done her homework on me obviously. Her ego was huge, which made her more intimidating than Rhett had been. Was I cut out for this?
“We’ll start with a quick tour. The guys are practicing now, but Rhett will introduce you once they’re done for the day.” She marched from the elevator and down the long, winding corridor.
The stadium was impressive as we emerged into the open-air fan area. The concession stands, fan stores, and bar areas all lined the cobblestone walkway with city-scape fronts. It felt like walking down the streets of New York City. She pushed through two large red doors to the seating area, pointing out the various skyboxes positioned above. “That one is ours to use,” she said, pointing to the one directly above the home plate.
It felt good to be back in a stadium. Pleasure rushed through me as I remembered what it felt like when my dad was a player. “Okay, let’s go check on the players.” She moved quickly, rushing me out of the doors so she could secure them again.