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"Manhattan, maybe. Wouldn't that be a gas? I'm not absolutely sure, of course, that the other team owners will go along with it, but Ronnie hired these nerds to do this big market survey, and they told him the New York City area can definitely support another football team."
Keane, obviously having decided where the real power behind the Stars lay, shot Ron a look of pure fury. "That's ridiculous! The Stars won't be able to use Giants Stadium. There are already two teams playing there."
But Phoebe wasn't ready to turn over the stage to her GM yet, and once again she cupped Keane's arm. "Not Giants Stadium. That's in New Jersey, for goodness' sake, and I never go to New Jersey unless I'm on my way to Philadelphia. Just because I won't own the team anymore doesn't mean that I'm not planning on seeing every game. I'm crazy about football now that I know all the players."
"You can't move the team unless you have a stadium!" Keane was nearly shouting. "Didn't McDermitt tell you that?"
"But that's the best part! Donald has just about recovered from all those horrible things that happened to him a few years ago, and he wants to build a domed stadium on that West Side land he owns." Her eyebrows wiggled suggestively. "We're close friends, you know, and he told me he'd give me my very own skybox as a gift if I'd sign a contract with him before I turn over the team to Reed." She looked stricken. "Don't be mad, Jason. I have to do what Ronnie tells me. He gets all upset if I don't behave like a real businesswoman."
Dan was grateful no one was paying any attention to him because he'd gotten dizzy from the altitude. He had to hand it to the kid, however. Ron leaned back in his chair with the smug look of a mafioso who had controlling interest in a concrete block company.
Keane's attitude underwent a subtle transformation, and he regarded Phoebe in a manner that was both unfriendly and patronizing. The thought passed through Dan's mind that Keane, for all his smarts, had better take care. Dan knew from past experience how easy it was to get suckered by these two con artists.
"I have to warn you that the whole thing sounds much too tentative to me. It's extremely doubtful the League would agree to a third pro team in the New York City area. If I were you, I wouldn't set my heart on moving the Stars to Manhattan."
Phoebe gave the same giggle that only ten minutes earlier had set Dan's back teeth on edge. Now it sounded as musical as church bells. How could he ever have doubted her? Not only was she smart as a whip, but she had guts.
"That's exactly what Ronnie said," she chirped, "but I have a backup plan."
"You do?"
She leaned closer. "You wouldn't believe how much Baltimore wants its own NFL team. Ever since the—" She looked down the table at Dan, and he finally knew her well enough to recognize the glitter in her eyes. As he kept his expression inscrutable, his chest swelled with pride.
"What was the name of that team that left Baltimore?" she inquired.
"The Colts."
"Right. Ever since the Colts left, Baltimore's been dying to get another team. And then there's Orlando." An expression of pure bliss settled over her face. "Those men are the sweetest guys in the world. Last week when we talked, they presented me with the cutest little Montblanc pen with gold mouse ears on it." She gave a soft, Minnie-like squeal and sighed with pleasure. "Oh, I just love Orlando. Their stadium site is right next to Disney World."
Keane looked stunned.
"So you see, I do know how to be a tough businesswoman." She slipped her napkin from her lap and stood. "Now if you gentlemen will excuse me, I need to make a trip to the little girls' room. And, Ronnie, you be civil to Jason while I'm gone. You've gotten everything you want, so you can afford to be gracious."
As she walked away from the table, she took all of their eyes with her. The door shut.
Dan wanted to jump to his feet and give her a standing ovation. At that moment, he knew without doubt that he couldn't marry Sharon Anderson, and he felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Phoebe filled his heart, not Sharon, and he was going to have to rethink everything. The future he'd been so certain about was now murky, a fact that should have depressed him. Instead, he experienced a surge of exhilaration.
Jason threw his napkin on the table, jumped to his feet, and rounded on Dan. "I thought we were friends! What the hell is going on here?"
Dan concealed his elation with a shrug. "It's front office business. I don't get involved."
"Not even when your football team may end up wearing fucking mouse ears on their helmets!"
Dan set down his coffee cup and deliberately wiped the corner of his mouth with his napkin. "Considering her past history, I think Baltimore's more likely. It's closer to Manhattan."
Jason turned his anger on Ron. "This is all your doing, McDermitt. You've manipulated that fucking birdbrain! My God, you're leading her around by the fucking nose!"
Ron's smile revealed the teeth of a baby shark. "I've done what I had to, Keane. You've been screwing us over for years, and I finally found a way to stop you. Bert would never consider moving the team, but Phoebe doesn't have his sense of tradition, and it was quite easy to persuade her to look elsewhere. She has wonderful connections, you know, and I don't inquire too closely into how she's made them. One day she's on the phone with Trump. The next day with Disney. They've promised low rents, hefty concession percentages. They'll pick up the tab for security. I realize this will leave you with an empty stadium, but perhaps the Bears—"
"Fuck the Bears!" Keane shouted. "Do you think I want McCaskey breathing down my ass?" His eyes traveled from Ron to Dan and back again. And then they narrowed suspiciously. He turned to his attorney. "Stand outside the door and keep Phoebe occupied if she comes back. O'Brian, get Trump on the phone."
Dan could see the flicker of alarm in Ron's eyes, and he couldn't suppress his own dismay. You gave it your best shot, Phoebe, he thought. Unfortunately, Keane wasn't as easily suckered in as he had been.
A heavy silence descended on the room as the men waited for the call to go through. After several moments of muted conversation, O'Brian passed the phone over to his employer.
Keane spoke into the receiver with false heartiness. "Donald, it's Jason Keane. Sorry to interrupt your evening, but I'm tracing down an interesting rumor." He walked over toward the fireplace. "The word here is that you're thinking about building a stadium on that West Side land you own. If it's true, I might be interested in getting in on the action. Provided you have a team lined up."
He gripped the receiver tighter in his hand as he listened. "Is that so? No, I understand. I thought maybe the Jets… Really? Well, those things happen. Yes, indeed. Oh, certainly."
