Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
ROYCE
I button my suit jacket as I make my way into the press room for today’s meeting. It’s the first time I’ll be in front of the team. I’ve gone all out to make sure they know exactly who I am from the jump. Most of them will recognize my last name. I’ve learned to deal with it through the years.
But I’m so much more than a Bellport.
I’ve got my own ideas, my own plans for the future. Plans they’ll either need to follow through with or accept that a potential trade is in their future.
This isn’t about me being a dictator. It’s about turning this team into one of the greats, by whatever means necessary.
All the players and support staff were told to show up early for today’s practice to ensure I’d have a chance to speak with them in an official capacity. As I approach the door, I can hear a familiar voice speaking to the group of men gathered inside. I’m frozen at the sound.
Kenneth Meyer.
I’ve spent years working to avoid him. Every gathering where I knew he’d be present, I would either decline the invite or spend most of my night ensuring I was out of his line of sight. It was easier that way.
Yet now, here we are. The same place at the same time all over again.
Only, I’m not going to let his snarky attitude get to me.
He’s the man on the way out the door. I’m the new boss in town.
I don’t want to come across as an asshole to the others, but with Kenneth, I’ll show him just how stern I can be if he gives me any flack.
I push the door open to the sound of the group laughing. It cuts off immediately as their gazes all sweep in my direction.
A lesser person would be intimidated with so many eyes upon them.
I’m not.
Instead, I give the smile my sister’s called ‘charming’ more than once as I stride over to Kenneth. Extending my hand to his, I greet him with a formal tone.
“Good morning, Mr. Meyer. Thank you for coordinating this meeting.”
He gives me a wide-eyed stare as his hand latches onto mine. I ignore the spark of heat that moves through me at his touch. His hands are surprisingly rough for someone who spends so much time behind a desk.
Or maybe I’m wrong. Maybe his job hasn’t been all pushing paper and making phone calls.
Maybe I won’t be bored to tears after all.
I have enough paperwork between my other businesses.
Occasionally, I like to get out and about to be a part of the action.
I’d hoped this venture would prove to fill that need.
I turn my focus back to the man before me instead of letting my mind continue to wander.
Kenneth is in a neatly pressed suit, though there’s no tie. The tiny detail unlocks a host of questions about him that I don’t want to dwell on.
Rough hands. Well-dressed, but not over the top. Mysteries abound.
Someone in the front row coughs violently. It almost sounds like they say “Kenny” but I’m not sure. I only know that it does the job of getting him unstuck.
“It’s no problem.” As he says the words, he looks over my shoulder. It’s just like before when he could barely stand to look me in the eye even as he pushed all my buttons.
Asshole.
I face the room to gauge what I’m dealing with. There’s a mixture of friendly faces with a few suspicious ones in the mix. I even spot a lip curl that tells me we’re bound to have an upset team member or two given the shifts coming to the organization.
“Alright, everyone,” Kenneth starts up. “By now you all know about the change in ownership. The Bellports are going to invest in this team to help bring you all to the next level. I’ll still be around for a while to help settle the transition, but come regular season, I’ll be less authoritative and more of a fan. ”
They all laugh at his teasing joke. I fight not to roll my eyes.
He’s clearly got everyone else fooled if his ‘nice guy’ act is working so well.
Then again, he was really only ever mean to me when we were kids.
And his meanness was mostly by proxy. Clark was my true tormentor.
He’s why I do what I do with all the vigor of a person possessed.
I could never understand what made me so special to them back then. I doubt I’ll ever truly know.
A guy in the back raises his hand.
“Yes, Charles?” Kenneth calls out.
“We gettin’ fired or anything?” The older guy tugs on his baseball cap as he stares us down.
Before the man beside me can answer, I step forward to garner their attention. “There are no layoffs set as of now. If any do arise, you’ll have plenty of notice, as well as fantastic severance packages. I truly believe it won’t come to that.”
“Thanks… uhhh.”
“Royce. You can all call me Royce. Mr. Bellport is my father. And since we’re on the topic, my pronouns are they/them, hence no Mr. for me. Any questions?”
A few of the guys mumble that they’ve got nothing else to say. I smile at them, giving off as much of a relaxed vibe as I can considering I’m a couple of inches away from the man I despise.
“This first week will mostly consist of me shadowing Mr. Meyer to see how things work. I’ll likely confuse names for a bit, so please forgive me.
Any concerns you may have or ideas you think could help us along would be greatly appreciated.
I’ll admit that I know way more about football than baseball, but I’m willing to learn for the sake of this team.
I want what’s best for every single one of you. Understand?”
There’s more nodding as Kenneth takes over to discuss schedules for the day. It’s a quick rundown, then the team is corralled out by the coaching staff. I watch them leave with a sense of dread. Without them around, I lose my barrier. I’ll have to face the man from my past alone.
It’s fine.
I’ll be fine.
Remember, Royce, we’re out for revenge. Don’t make any of this easy on him.
Turning to face Kenneth, I find him already looking me over. His gaze takes in my outfit for a long moment before striding up to meet my eyes. I see a flash of emotion there. It’s almost… No, it couldn’t be what I’m thinking. He can’t possibly feel attracted to me.
I scoff softly at the stupid idea.
“Please lead the way to your office. I’d like to get acquainted with everything in the way you’d normally handle it,” I tell him calmly.
His posture is stiff as he takes us through the halls and up a level to his executive space.
I revel in the formality of it all. This is the way our business dealings will go.
The less familiarity there is between us, the better.
I don’t need him thinking he intimidates me any longer.
I’ve long since changed from the child I was when his tactics worked.
As an adult, I refuse to let him control my emotions.
The first thing I notice about Kenneth Meyer’s office is how vastly different it is from the man I thought I knew. There’s a softness to the space that doesn’t track. He’s got comfortable seating, knickknacks all around, and a view that baseball fans would kill for.
I take it all in with a measured sort of wonder. Despite being unexpected, I can’t let it deter me from what I’ve come here to do. I need to replace his presence in this organization, which means learning everything he does to make this place run and doing it twice as well.
“First thing I do each day is check email. I prioritize what's most important to the organization and work my way through it. Since the PR team handles a lot of the fluff stuff, I usually get the more detailed requests or problems that can’t be solved at a lower-management level.”
I nod along as I keep my eyes on the field.
The team is spreading out to start practice.
I’ve been studying a bit about baseball, so I recognize what some of the equipment they bring out does.
I also notice the grouping of the training staff and how they’re watching certain people more than others.
It makes me wonder if they’re the elite players or if we’re nursing some injuries.
Bell has always said that an injury to an athlete can be a death sentence.
Kenneth continues droning on behind me about meetings with investors and events the team schedules in advance for the year. I listen with my business eye, careful not to let myself get swept up in the energized way he speaks about this team.
It’s obvious that he loves it here. Why he would sell it is beyond me. I couldn’t imagine giving up anything I’d spent so much time and effort on. Not even for the amount of money I’m sure my brother is shelling out for it.
When his voice trails off, I turn to see what else I need to question him about.
The speech he just gave was more of an informative overlay about everything rather than a guidebook.
I’m sure there are things he’s forgotten to tell me too.
All the more reason for me to stick around as he works through his day over these next few weeks.
“Do you have any questions so far?” he asks, his eyes on the papers covering his desk.
I shake my head, then move to take a seat across from him. Before sinking down, I unbutton my blazer. The move reveals more of the corset I’ve got on over my top.
Immediately, Kenneth’s gaze latches onto the fabric. I watch his pupils dilate as I slowly ease down into the chair. He doesn’t look away as I cross my legs, nor does he move a muscle at all. He’s transfixed on my body like a predator waiting for a chance to take out his prey.
What the actual fuck is going on here? Is this another one of his games?
Make me think he’s interested sexually, then he’s going to humiliate me.
“Something wrong with my outfit?”
His eyes race to meet mine at my harsh question. He swallows thickly, then shakes his head.
“No. Nothing wrong. It’s… nice. Very flattering.”
I frown at the compliment. Did he get body snatched by aliens? This isn’t the man I know.
The Kenneth I grew up around would tell me I’m dressed too fucking girly or that I shouldn’t be crossing my legs because that’s only for women. He couldn’t understand my love for all types of fabrics and styles.
I didn’t care what section of the store it came from, so long as it felt good and told the story I wanted it to. My clothes are my way of communicating with the outside world without having to speak. One glance in my direction can say more than an hour’s long speech could.
While most people simply ignore my choices or write them off as outlandish fashion ideals, Kenneth and his bestie always seemed to be transfixed by them.
In our youth, the pair made it seem like they hated it because of societal gender norms. Their patriarchal thinking limited them to what a person presenting as a certain gender should wear.
But now, I’m looking at a man who doesn’t seem perturbed by my outfit. It’s more of an appreciation in his gaze. Or maybe it’s simply acceptance since I’m taking over his beloved sports team.
Either way, I’m not going to let his head games get to me. I’m here for the job, not for him. He can deal with my clothing choices just like everyone else does.
In the silence of his stilted compliment, I count down the number of days I have left to work with him.
It’s far longer than I’d like, but I know it’s necessary.
I’m going to make the Bellport Blue Jays the best baseball team in…
whatever baseball teams have. Conferences?
Sections? The country, maybe? Whatever title it is they’re after, I’m going to help them get there.
I’ll prove to everyone—Kenneth included—that my appearance doesn’t hinder me from doing a good job. I’m more than capable whether I’m in pants, a skirt, or a fucking Mumu.