Page 8 of Her Game Plan

“What?” I exclaim. “This is good. We’ll start a reddit channel to get dirt on all the best pitchers in baseball, asking the women of the world to help us out. Then, we hire a bunch of private detectives to investigate them all until we have enough leverage on one to get them here.”

“How many drinks have you had?” Finley asks.

“Two. And a half.” I hold up my partially consumed gin martini.

Finley narrows her eyes. “That’s not enough alcohol for you to think that’s a good idea.”

“I feel it’s more like it is an idea. What else is Sage going to do? She’s been dealing with this since she took over the team. We can’t change the altitude of our city.”

Sage takes a deep breath, getting her laughter under control. “I’m not saying no, but let’s put blackmail on the back burner, just for now. And until then, I’ll keep adding more rooftop bars to the field, so fans will at least keep coming for the atmosphere, if not for the team.”

“Want me to help set up a few summer concert series?” I offer. “Dad is still ‘thinking’ about partnering with other venues, but he won’t know if I help you get a few performances.”

Sage shakes her head. “That’s okay. I don’t want you to cannibalize your revenue just to help keep us in the black. Plus, my team has a few acts lined up. They’d be better if you were involved, but it’ll be good enough this way.”

I sigh as conversation flows back to other topics. I have good ideas. I just need my dad to let me start running with them.

Chapter 4

Callan

“Three weeks until our first preseason game,” I announce, wrapping up the first day of training camp for the rookies. “Now’s the time to prove you’re supposed to be here. You’ve got the best team in the world at your back, so make sure you take advantage of every opportunity. Every coach. Every trainer. Every single person is here to make sure you’re performing at your peak. So, work with them and give it your all.”

Motivating the team is one of my favorite things about being the quarterback. Well, that and being in control. As someone who experienced high levels of chaos as a child, I naturally gravitated toward the positions where I got to be the one in charge.

I hand out a round of back slaps as I leave the rookies to go get fitted for their equipment.

“Thanks for coming in today, Devine,” Coach Phillips grunts as I reach the back of the team meeting room. He’s in the far corner, observing everything, but allowing his staff to run things. Two offseasons ago, the Stallions upgraded most of the spaces in which players spend significant time. The team meeting room now looks like the fanciest movie theater you’ve ever seen, complete with faux-leather chairs, designed specifically to fit the extra-large frames of our linemen.

“Of course, Coach. You know I’m happy to help out. Plus, who better to intro the playbook to the new guys than me?”

The first week of training camp is only for the new players. They’re long, administrative-heavy days. Most of the veteran players won’t come in until next week, but I like to help out, to make sure the new players know I’m here. As exciting as your first week with a team is, it can be overwhelming, too.

“I think Vernon might be able to handle it,” Phillips says, naming our offensive coordinator.

“Maybe. But I’ll be back on Wednesday to help out when they start walkthroughs, anyway.”

“It’s not in your contract, Devine.”

I tuck my right hand into the pocket of my black gym shorts. “I know. But I’ll still be here.”

“Of course he will.” AJ Pitt walks into the room and offers Coach and me a grin.

“Pitty.” I grip his hand before leaning in to slap his back. “What are you doing here?”

“I just finished up with the trainer. Thought I’d stop by and see what we’re working with.”

I nod toward the almost empty room. “You just missed them.”

Pitt chats with Coach for a few minutes before we head out together, discussing the new recruits on our way to the parking lot.

I nod at the security guard as we walk by. “Hey, Byron.”

Byron raises his hand in greeting. “Mr. Devine.”

“Callan, or Devine, Byron,” I remind him. “No mister needed.”

“Yessir.”