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“Because I was the best candidate for the job.”
“You’re goddamn right.”
“Thank you.”
“I got some flack for it, you know. Hiring a girl.”
Emmy didn’t love the way he used girl as if it were a dirty word, but she bit her tongue. “If I was the best person for the job, why should it matter if I’m a woman or not?”
“It doesn’t. And that’s what I said.” Darren placed the newspaper on the arm of his chair so it sat between them like a shared secret. “But it becomes hard for me to say things like that when other people make it an issue. Do you understand?”
Emmy looked at the paper. Tucker had said he couldn’t understand why she was upset about it. The piece seemed like good press to anyone else, but here was what she had feared the most. Not everyone thought the publicity was a good thing. Suddenly the harmless editorial piece was causing friction at her job, which was exactly what she was worried about.
“Not to put too fine a point on it, Emmy, but I’d rather hoped we could make it through the whole season without your gender becoming an issue for us.”
“Do you think my gender has become an issue?”
“Right now it’s just an article.” He tapped the paper, and it crinkled under his neatly trimmed nails. “I’d like to avoid it becoming a whole issue, if possible.”
“Okay.”
“You’re good at your job. Better than good. I’m watching Tucker Lloyd pitch his best game in over three years. I see the difference having you around is making.”
She hoped he didn’t see everything.
“This article doesn’t change my ability to do my job,” she said defensively. She didn’t like the story any more than he did, but she didn’t think it was fair for him to question her ability to do her job because of it.
“I didn’t say it did. My concern is that stories like this draw attention. And I want people watching Felons games for the game. Not because we’re a beacon for social equality.” He must have seen her expression grow dark because he quickly held up two hands. “I’m all for equality, please don’t misunderstand. But you have to admit, you’re the exception in this sport, not the rule. And if people start watching our games thinking we’re something we aren’t? I don’t see it doing anything but backfiring. And we don’t need that kind of bad juju hanging around us this season.”
“You think this article is going to draw in a legion of new feminist viewers, and you’re worried they’ll get angry when they realize baseball really is a man’s game after all?” Emmy needed to restate his points because she wasn’t sure she’d absorbed the entirety of how stupid they’d been.
“I think you’re oversimplifying.”
“Darren, please don’t take this the wrong way, but there’s something you need to understand about baseball you’ve clearly missed.”
“And what’s that?”
“Baseball isn’t a man’s game. It’s the national pastime. And with all due respect to the female half of the nation, if this article brings in more female viewers, then maybe that’s a good thing, because right now Felons games rank behind NASCAR in TV ratings. So angry feminists or not, I think maybe you should worry more about how your team plays and less about the motivations of those tuning in to see them. Maybe if those new feminist fans see us win some games, they’ll stick around.” She’d wanted to stop mid-rant, but once her mouth was open it was like a floodgate. There was no stopping the torrent; it just had to run its course.
“I’ll take that into consideration.” His tone was flat, and she couldn’t tell if he was angry or impressed. The dead caterpillar on his lip twitched.
“May I go back to the game?”
“By all means. Apparently we need to start generating more wins to appease our new fans.”
Chapter Sixteen
Giordano’s Pizzeria was crammed the following night.
After a Saturday afternoon game, Tucker managed to convince Emmy it was a good time to meet her end of their bargain. If he’d known how busy the famous Chicago eatery would be, he’d have taken them somewhere else, but he remembered her speaking fondly of the place. Aside from the lengthy wait, he figured he had to get bonus points for taking her to her favorite hometown restaurant.
The restaurant had no available tables, so a harried waitress showed them the way to the lounge, and they were left to fend for themselves. A couple got up as they arrived, vacating two places at the bar, and Tucker snagged the tall stools before anyone else spotted them.
On the big-screen televisions behind the bar, a Cubs game was getting started, which explained why so many people were milling around the lounge. That and the proximity of the restaurant to the Willis Tower meant there would always be a steady flow of tourist foot traffic.
Tucker knew immediately no matter how many sentimentality points he gained for his choice of venue, there was no way this evening could be even remotely romantic.
The crowd was raucous, hooting and swearing as ESPN played clips of the earlier afternoon game between the Felons and the White Sox. Cassandra Dano, the skinny blonde reporter, was giving the camera a leering, salacious smile as she reported the day’s stories. He’d met Cassandra a few times and wasn’t certain she knew a damn thing about sports, which made him wary of her.
