“Uh-huh,” Hank said when I didn’t respond. And then he just watched me with a heavy expression.
I swallowed my humiliation and pulled out my tough-negotiator persona. “What will you pay me for a one-on-one interview with Rob?”
He shook his head. “Not even his own mother can get that. The Bobcats have his mouth sewn shut.”
I lifted my chin. I responded well to challenges. “What will you pay me for it?”
Hank didn’t answer at first. He just looked at me as he rubbed his chin. “It’d take some work. You’d have to get it to me immediately. And you can’t go selling it the next day to someone else.”
“How much?” I pressed.
He finally grunted. “Two thousand if you get me something good by the end of the month.”
Two thousand dollars? That would cover my rent long enough to give me some breathing room. Long enough for me to figure out other options, because this wasn’t a cash cow I could milk. Odds were that Rob didn’t even remember me. But what the hell. I would be an idiot not to try.
I pushed to my feet, determination at war with total panic inside my chest. “Three thousand, Hank. Or I’ll take it to the Associated Press.” After all, baseball was a hot topic right then and Rob was the hottest.
Hank snorted as he held out his hand. “You get me that article and we’ll talk about the price then.”
I took a breath. In for a penny, in for a pound, right? “And a job.”
Hank frowned. “What?”
“If I get this article, if I prove to everyone that I can do it, then you’ll give me a real job as a reporter.”
“We’re cutting back—”
“But I’ve heard everyone say that you’ll find the money if the reporter is good.” I narrowed my eyes. “I’ve heard you say that.”
He took a long time thinking. Hank wouldn’t promise me something he couldn’t deliver. So I held my breath as he weighed his options. Then finally he nodded. “I might be able to sell that. If you get me this article when no one else can, I’ll find you a job somewhere.”
“On staff. As a reporter,” I pressed.
“Yes.”
“Deal.” I held out my hand. He took it in a firm grip and we shook. But there was something in his expression, a kind of sadness that belied the handshake.
“You don’t think I can do it,” I realized.
“Not in a million years.” Then he grinned. “But I’m dying to see you try.”
Oh hell. I was dressed wrong. I was in the press room at the ballpark before the Bobcats game against Detroit. Everyone was talking about the matchup between Lee and Cabrera as if this were a title fight instead of baseball. I’d managed to force Hank to get me a media pass to the pregame Q&A, but the moment I’d arrived at the ballpark, I knew I was out of place.
I’d dressed as if I were doing a political interview. A dark, professional dress, understated earrings, and my one indulgence: black Louboutin pumps with the bright red soles. Lovely, but I wasn’t interviewing the mayor. I was in a baseball park, which meant I either sank an inch into the dirt or clacked loudly with every step. I’d hoped to fit in better as I made it to the press area, but even there, I was dressed completely wrong. The men were in polos and the few women were in slacks. And every single one of them sported a Bobcats item, most of them baseball caps, but I saw Bobcats jackets on a couple of very large men.
Shit.
Now I knew why the security guy had laughed when I showed my credentials. The room was fairly packed, but we were still in the stand-around phase before the players came out. And as I entered, the nearest men stopped talking long enough to smirk at me. I definitely saw a few nudges and heard the chuckles. But it was one of the big guys in a Bobcats jacket who snorted loud enough to draw everyone’s attention. Then he rolled his eyes.
“Look at the fresh meat. Want to bet how long she lasts?” He might as well have said “look at the clueless girl” with the way he was waggling his eyebrows.
Part of me wanted to turn tail and run. I had no business being here and everybody knew it. But I wanted this. It was my last chance to make it as a reporter, rather than the law school student my parents would strong-arm me into becoming. And if I couldn’t manage a simple baseball interview, then no way was I going to make it my dream career.
I stiffened and shot him a glare. “I’m here for the same reason you are,” I said stiffly, then started looking around for a seat. There weren’t any. And now that I’d challenged the big buffoon, more people were turning to look at me. Especially since the jerk rolled his eyes.
“I don’t think so, cupcake.”
I shot him a glare. “I’m with theIndianapolis Sun.”
