Ball Buster

by Kara Sheridan

  “Carson,” she said, “I carried you in my body for nine months. Spent a lifetime making sure you were a happy little boy.”

  “I know.”

  “Your short answers indicate something is wrong. You know you can tell me anything, right?”

  Blessed to grow up with parents that encouraged their children to communicate openly, Carson knew he should share the fact that Sadie Reynolds was back in town. Not to mention, if Tamera and his mama had a chance to chat, Tamera would definitely share the news.

  “The commissioner and Jack Menzies are cracking down on anyone who violates moral clauses in our contracts, especially players who misuse social media.”

  “Sounds reasonable.”

  “We’re not teenage boys, Mama. We’re grown men, capable of making our own decisions—even if they’re bad ones.”

  “Really?” she asked. “I might live in a small town, Carson. But the minute anything makes the news about the team or you specifically, my phone rings.”

  Carson regretted that part of his very public life—the effect it had on his mother and sisters. That was another reason he walked a straight path, staying out of trouble as much as he could. “I’m very careful…”

  “Except for the occasional slip, right? Like the ass shot Genevieve’s girlfriends were giggling over the other night on the internet?”

  Carson’s heart dropped into his stomach. “Jesus Christ.”

  “Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain, Carson.”

  “Sorry, Mama.”

  “Were you taking selfies in a mirror?”

  “No.”

  “Then who’s responsible for that indiscreet picture?”

  “One of the rookies.”

  “Shame on that man. Maybe I should give the coach a friendly call and get the rookie’s phone number. And once I contact that player, I’ll remind him how fortunate he is to have such God-given talent. Maybe he needs to think about all the disadvantaged kids out there and how his time would be better spent…”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Coach and everyone else in the front office already knows.”

  “Oh.”

  “We’ve been put on notice.”

  She took a deep breath. “What do you mean?”

  “If we don’t clean up our public images, we might get fired.”

  “Not you, though.”

  “Mama…”

  “Jack knows you’re a good kid, Carson.”

  “I’m also responsible for the actions of my teammates and helping steer them in the right direction.”

  “All right,” she said in her dissatisfied tone. “What’s management doing about it?”

  “Hired a social media expert to rehabilitate our profiles, to help change the public’s perception of the team.”

  “Isn’t that your agent’s job?”

  “Not everything is black and white, Mama.”

  “Is this expert reliable?”

  “She’s incredible,” Carson slipped.

  “What did you say?”

  “She’s credible.”

  “Carson,” his mother started. “I distinctly heard you say incredible.”

  “Did I?”

  “Are you fraternizing with a professional woman hired to work with your team?”

  In every way. Now would be the perfect time to slip in Sadie’s name. “Mama, it’s Sadie Reynolds.”

  The gasp that followed indicated his mother’s surprise. “The Sadie Reynolds?”

  “In the flesh.”

  “Jesus.”

  Carson wanted to remind his mother not to take the Lord’s name in vain, but he bit his tongue.

  “How is she?”

  “Fine, Mama. Successful, beautiful, and just as confused as she’s always been.”

  “Poor girl.”

  “I know she didn’t grow up the way I did. Her father is still struggling with addiction, and her mother is forced to stay home and take care of him. Though she’s making a great living, she’s so emotionally isolated.”

  “That’s terrible, baby. The best thing you can do is offer support and be there if she needs you.”

  Carson rubbed the back of his neck and started pacing. In his mother’s ideal world, that’s what a man like him would do. But Carson flatly refused to let the opportunity to reconnect with Sadie slip through his fingers. A man of decisive action, he’d come up with a game plan, just like he did on the field.

  “I need to go, Mama. I have an early morning. Say hello to the girls. I’ll drive down on my next day off.”

  “Or I could come spend a few days with you? Auntie Beth can take care of the girls, and I have a few personal days saved up at work.”

  Though he appreciated the offer, Carson knew his mother too well. She’d get too involved with him and Sadie. “Let me think about it, okay? My schedule is all screwed up right now. There’s limited time before preseason.” His mother knew the routine as well as he did.

  “I love you, Carson. And I’m so proud of you.”

  “I love you, too, Mama.”

  “Give Tamera a hug for me. And please, tell Sadie I’d love to see her.”

  Carson hung up, unsure of what he was going to do about Sadie.

  Chapter Twelve

  A couple of days after her date with Carson, Sadie finally finished up her one-on-one meetings with the team. The session with Carson had been intense and sexually charged. They couldn’t keep their eyes off each other, and she had been tempted more than once to touch him. But he kept his distance. Plus, he’d been more than helpful and even offered to review her notes after she met with the other players. His insight would be invaluable once she finished building her spreadsheet for what the goals were for the team.

  In the meantime, she had spoken with Leonard, and they’d brainstormed ideas for a new publicity campaign. It would be launched online, on television, and on the radio simultaneously. Surprisingly, she’d woken up with the perfect slogan and was excited to share it with Leonard.

  His happy face popped up on Skype, and she smiled as she took a sip of coffee.

  “Good morning, sunshine,” he said.

  “Morning.”

  “What do you have for me? The Warriors’ public relations department generously sent over enough material to keep our production team busy for the rest of the year,” he said.

  “Hopefully great video clips and quality photographs.”

  “Yes,” he replied.

  “One less thing for me to worry about.”

  “Getting stressed out?” Leonard asked.

  “Just anxious to start getting my hands dirty. You know how I am. The preliminary fact-gathering exercises are boring.”

  Lenny chuckled. “Only you would get bored surrounded by all that muscle.”

  “I sneak a peek once in a while.”

  “At what, exactly?”

  “Let’s stick to business, shall we?” She could spend all day talking to him about frivolous things; that’s why they worked together so well.

  “What do you think about ‘Rediscover the Alabama in the Alabama Warriors’?”

  He thought about it. “Catchy. Clean. Memorable.”

  “Isn’t that the most common complaint, that the fans feel like they’ve lost touch with their team?”

  “After the political shitstorm everyone’s been embroiled in this year, I’d have to say yes.”

  “I think we need to focus on the locals—bring this team home.”

  Leonard picked up a pen and started taking notes. “Where do you want the videos to be taken? On the field? Locker room?”

  “Small town clips. Fourth of July, Thanksgiving, parades, and maybe the individual players doing community service?”

  “You think traditional will catch the fans’ attention?”

  “I think it will make them take a second look. The fame and glamour have a place, but let’s think about this on a different level, Leonard. How much is an average game ticket?”

  “Hold on.�
�� Lenny typed something on his computer. “Have it right here. Ninety-three dollars. That’s an eighteen percent increase in cost over last year.”

  “So nearly four hundred dollars just for the tickets for a family of four? That’s crazy!”

  “That’s football. And the Warriors rank pretty close to average for ticket costs.”

  “Let me guess…”

  “Yep. The Patriots have the highest cost.”

  “Add in parking, programs, popcorn, hot dogs, drinks, and maybe a jersey or two for the kids,” Sadie said. “We’re talking, what, six or seven hundred dollars. That’s a vacation for some families, Leonard.”

  He rubbed his chin. “Where are you going with this?”

  “The median household income for Alabama is forty-one thousand dollars. I want to concentrate on that—highlight how much the players appreciate their fans. Recognize how special it is to come to a game.”

  “Hmm,” he said. “You might have something here. Take the spotlight off the field and shine it on the average fan.”

  “Yes! Maybe we can get some fan quotes—clips of kids saying why they love the Warriors and have individual players respond on a personal level.”

  “I like it a lot, Sadie.”

  “How far am I supposed to go with this, Leonard?”

  “Jack Menzies has deep pockets and high expectations. You’re in control of this. If you think one of those guys needs a new wardrobe, hire a fashion consultant.”

  She laughed at that. “Somehow I can’t picture Solomon Webster taking fashion tips from me.”

  “Is he still hostile?”

  “Apprehensive, not hostile. I think the first day pissed everyone off, even Carson.”

  “How’s that going?”

  “I’ll let you know later.”

  “That bad?”

  “No,” she said. “I’m just not prepared to discuss it right now.”

  “We had another team reach out and ask for a proposal.”

  “Really?”

  “Guess word got out what the Warriors were doing. This could turn into something big.”

  “What does Charles think?”

  Lenny huffed. “He’s in Greece.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Would I lie?” he asked.

  “I’m shocked that he’s traipsing all over the world while we’re busting our asses to land this contract.”

  “The man is having a midlife crisis, I think. Ever since Shelly broke it off with him, he’s been on a world tour to get laid.”

  Sadie cringed at the thought of any woman sleeping with her boss. “Maybe it’s a good thing. Leaves you in charge, and he’s not micromanaging me.”

  “Whether you know it or not, Charles admires you.”

  “Right,” she replied sarcastically.

  “He does, Sadie. You wouldn’t be in Alabama if he didn’t. Which leads to the next topic of interest.”

  “What?”

  “I’m flying in next Friday.”

  Sadie leaned forward. “To Mobile? That’s wonderful news!”

  “I thought about what you said, and I did remember what is was like in the field. I’ve lost touch sitting in this office. So, if you’ll have me…”

  Sadie blew him a kiss. “I can’t wait.”

  “You have the lead, sweetheart. I’m just along for the ride.”

  “You’ll want access to the locker room.”

  He waggled his eyebrows. “What’s on the agenda today?”

  “I’m going to visit the practice field, see how these guys interact in their natural environment.”

  “Wildlife viewing, sounds fun.”

  “You’re crazy, Leonard.”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  “Have a great day,” she said.

  “You, too.”

  Armed with a camera, she left her hotel room and headed for the field to watch afternoon practice. She’d been around the game long enough to follow the plays. She passed by the media area and overheard one of the reporters on camera.

  “Thanks to the Warriors’ front office, Carson Savage will be surrounded by talent this season. After drafting a new wide receiver, Donovan Quick, it should take some of the pressure off Carson. But the main concern today is whether the Warriors can clean up their act and join other teams like the Mustangs, who have taken the commissioner seriously when he demanded all teams clean up their acts. Jack Menzies, the owner of the Warriors, has gotten creative this year, holding a preseason minicamp. Word has it most of the players aren’t happy with the idea, but judging by how many of them are here, I’d say they took the front office seriously…”

  Sadie knew the pressure was always on Carson, whether it pertained to the game or serving as a leader. He was an out-of-pocket quarterback who took risks—he could barrel down field and take out a couple defenders before getting tackled. But her attention was on Tyrone Baxley today, the big and physical all-star tight end who never seemed to slow down, on or off the field.

  “Seven-on-seven,” the offensive coordinator called, clapping his hands.

  Seven players, including Carson, completed a series of passing drills. Sadie understood the importance of timing and route combos—and Ty’s explosive speed was breathtaking. She snapped several photos, then switched to video.

  Tyrone had a bad habit of posting controversial content on Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook, expressing his political views and disappointment in dwindling NFL popularity, and he always shared intimate photos of the women he was dating. His favorite hashtag was #livingaplayerslife. But he didn’t mean football player.

  Sadie spent the next hour getting the pics and videos she needed, then sat in the bleachers with the lucky fans allowed to attend the practice.

  After a few minutes, a guy sitting behind her tapped her on the shoulder. “With the media?” he asked.

  Sadie turned around and smiled. “No. Just a fan.”

  He shook his head. “I saw you on the field. Regular fans don’t have access to the field. We’re only allowed to sit here and use the bathroom over there.” He pointed. “You on a secret mission of some sort?”

  Sadie considered the middle-aged man. He was dressed in jeans and a button-down shirt, had a Warriors ball cap on, and expensive tennis shoes—the average Warriors fan? Maybe she could turn this into a learning moment, find out what he loved about the team. “My name is Sadie.” She extended her hand.

  “Gerald Davenport.” He gave her hand a firm shake.

  “Are the Warriors your favorite team?”

  “My only team.”

  “Would you mind telling me what players you follow on social media? What you like the best about them?”

  He tilted his head. “I knew it.”

  “What?”

  “Secret mission.”

  Sadie grinned, unable to disclose what her purpose on the field was. “Maybe,” she teased.

  “Nice to see a lady working with the team,” he said. “I’ll help you. I like Savage and Baxley, Hicks and Gonzalez. The running game was hot last season. And the Warriors and New Orleans were knocking on the championship doors last year. With the new talent, pretty sure we have a real shot at the playoffs again.”

  “What about social media?”

  He pursed his lips. “Hate it, but consider it a necessary evil. I’m a stockbroker, expected to stay up-to-date on things. I use Twitter and Facebook mostly. I follow a dozen players, post the occasional comment, nothing too serious.”

  “What’s your overall impression of the team?”

  “Depends on the time of year.” He winked at her. “Savage and Hicks are local heroes, born in Alabama. Good ol’ boys raised right.”

  “Does that make a difference to you? If a player is local or from another state?”

  “Sometimes.” He gestured at the field. “Ty Baxley is from New York—raised in the foster care system, no real roots. It shows.”

  “In what way?”

  “Doesn’t have a mama to keep him on
the straight and narrow.”

  Sure, Gerald was referring to all the women Ty slept with, she didn’t ask for clarification. “But you like him?”

  “Who doesn’t? He runs a 4.24-second forty-yard dash.”

  Talent overshadowed whatever moral shortcomings a player possessed? Sadie could work with that. In fact, that’s why she’d been taking pics of Ty. Showcasing his talent on the field instead of his prowess in bed was the first step to reinventing him.

  “Thank you, Gerald.” Sadie stood.

  “Leaving me already?”

  Sadie leaned in and whispered. “Secret mission, remember?”

  He chuckled. “Well, whoever the hell you are, Sadie, it was nice to meet you.”

  Carson headed off the field to grab a towel and some Gatorade. The June humidity was brutal. As he wiped the sweat from his forehead, he watched Sadie leaving the bleachers. God, she looked good in jeans and that off-the-shoulder shirt. While he’d been completing passes on the field, she’d been on the sidelines taking pictures. But not of him.

  Ty joined him. “You seem preoccupied.”

  “Nothing I can’t handle,” Carson said.

  Ty followed his gaze to Sadie and smirked. “You’re full of shit. No one could handle her. She’s out for blood.”

  Carson frowned. “She’s here to help.”

  “Need to clear your head of that pussy fog. She’s working for the front office, and in case you haven’t noticed, there’s a war going on here. Them against us.”

  “Don’t take everything personally, Ty,” Carson said. “Think we’re the only team under pressure to clean up our public image? The league is losing money, big time.”

  “Not my problem.”

  “What’s going on with you?”

  His best friend poked him in the chest. “This shit drains the brain. I’m tired of coaching points and meetings. Tired of bleeding for this team and getting lumped in with the players who don’t know their asses from a hole in the ground. Now Jack is trying to silence me, dictating who I can sleep with, what I can and can’t post. It’s like he wants to stop me from having an opinion.”

  Carson dropped his helmet on the ground, then crossed his arms. “You really think he’s trying to silence you?”

  “Well he’s definitely limiting what we can share on social media.”