Chapter 58
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Decker
The minute I step off the plane, Jagger’s calling me.
“Hello?”
“Trojans want a meeting. Sooner the better. I told them this morning. I’ll send you the address.”
“I just want to go home.” My voice holds a slight whine, but I don’t care. I miss my family.
“This might enable you to stay in Chicago. Bianca Banks is the new GM after her daddy bought the team. She’s got deep pockets. I know it’s not the Colts, but you won’t have relocate your family.”
I walk toward baggage claim. “Do you really think they can beat New York’s offer?”
I walk by a display of shirts in the gift shop and stop.
DeckCantGo
DeckorNothing
There are a bunch of others. Unreal. I wish I could thank the person responsible for this campaign to keep me with the Colts. They put so much work into it, and it didn’t help. On some level, I feel as though I’ve let them down.
“It’s worth hearing her out. And Sutter called me this morning. He loves you. Wants you. He had to fly into Chicago today last minute for something, so if you want to shake hands and accept, he gave me his hotel info.”
I wait by the baggage claim and lean on a pole away from everyone else. “Why do you think he wants me? I mean, not my worth. But what he’s offering… it’s more than anyone.”
Jagger groans. “Only you, Davis. Only you would question the reason a guy wants to pay you the money he does. New York has the deepest pockets, and they pay for their players. It’s the reason they win so often—they have the most talent on their team.
You’re hot right now. Between the way you played the second half of the season and the fact Chicago is running a Save Decker campaign, it says that you’re the it player.
The it players get the money. So just enjoy it. ”
I nod although he can’t see me. “Okay. Send me the address for the Trojans meeting.”
“Good boy, I’ll be in touch.”
He sends me the address, and I blow out a breath. At least if I play for the Trojans, we can stay in Chicago. I’m just not sure they can offer me what New York is.
Guess I’ll find out.
Bianca Banks is already at the corner table when I walk in.
She’s younger than I expected. Sharp eyes, the posture of someone who feels she needs to prove her worth. She has a black coffee in front of her and a tablet open, and when I sit down, she doesn’t do the thing people do where they pretend they weren’t watching the door.
“You’re two minutes late,” she says to her computer screen.
“Chicago traffic, and I just got off a plane.”
“I walked.” She slides the tablet toward me.
My stats, same as everyone else, but annotated differently.
Margin notes. Questions. Things she actually wants to talk about rather than things designed to impress me.
“I’m not going to tell you the Trojans are a better organization than the Colts.
You know this city, and you know the rivalry between us, so I won’t insult your intelligence. ”
I like her immediately. I don’t want to, but I do. “Then why am I here?”
“I need a third baseman who can play defense in his sleep and mentor two kids in my infield who are talented, but twenty-three years old and making every mistake talented twenty-three-year-olds make.” She picks up her coffee.
“I’m going to tell you the South Side is different from the North Side, but it’s still Chicago.
Congratulations on your new marriage. If you play for me, your family remains in the town they love and the town that seemingly loves you.
All you do is change the color of your jersey. ”
“You say that like it’s a small thing.”
“It’s a practical thing.” She looks at me evenly. “Is it a dealbreaker?”
I look at the tablet.
Thirty-four years old, and I’m sitting in a coffee shop considering playing for the rival team I hate. Foster will lose his mind. Easton might actually disown me as his best friend. Hayes will be diplomatic about it for approximately four minutes before he says see you in the cross-town classic.
“What’s the offer?”
She tells me.
It’s not New York money, but it’s decent. It doesn’t have the flash of Sutter’s card across a white tablecloth. It’s just a number that respects the conversation.
I’m thinking about how to respond when the door opens.
Ripley saunters in.
He sees me at the same moment I see him. His eyes move from me to the woman across the table, and something shifts in his expression that I have never seen on Mark Ripley’s face before.
Something that looks a lot like dislike. Which I guess makes sense. The Colts and Trojans are rivals.
Bianca Banks sees him at the same moment.
She picks up her coffee and looks almost bored.
He breaks the distance.
“Mark,” she says first.
“Bianca.” His voice is even. Which for Ripley is its own kind of temperature. His gaze shifts to me. “Decker.”
“Mark.” I pause. “Just coffee.”
“Of course.” He holds my gaze for one second longer than necessary, then looks back at her. “How’s the South Side treating you?”
“Better every year,” she says pleasantly. “You should stop by sometime. See how the other half lives.”
“I’ve seen it. Not as nice as the North Side. Have a good meeting.” He nods once—at her, at me, at the table in general—and moves over to the counter.
I watch him order.
Bianca watches me watch him and doesn’t comment, which tells me she has excellent instincts. A good thing for a GM.
“Old friends?” I arch an eyebrow.
“Something like that.” She sets down her coffee. “He has a problem with how I run my organization. I have a problem with how he handles competition.” She says it without heat, as though they’re just facts. “We’ve disagreed for a long time.”
“About what specifically?”
“Ask him.” She looks back at the tablet. “It won’t affect my offer, and it won’t affect how I manage you if you sign. I don’t bring personal history into the field.”
I glance back at the counter. Ripley has his coffee and is on his phone, his back to us, but he hasn’t left yet.
“He thinks I poached two of his scouts last year,” Bianca admits without looking up. “He’s not entirely wrong.”
I look at her.
The corner of her mouth moves. Not quite a smile, but she’s definitely enjoying this.
Ripley passes our table on his way out. He puts his hand briefly on my shoulder without stopping—the same gesture he uses to say something without words—and walks out the door.
She bundles up all her stuff. “Take your time. But not too much.” She stands and picks up her jacket. “The offer’s real, Decker.”
I sit for a moment with my coffee.
The Trojans.
God help me.
I pick up my phone to text Jagger.
Still processing.
Process faster.
I’ll talk to Penelope and circle back.
Good.
I dial up Penelope on my way back home.
As always, she answers on the first ring. “How did it go?”
“I think it’s between two offers, but one is significantly better.” I have to be honest with her. The money, the position, the chance at championships are all waiting for me in New York, but the Trojans would keep us here.
I hate Shane Whitaker a little more for putting me in this position.
“Which two?” she asks.
“Trojans and New York.”
“I figured… we need to talk, Decker.”
I hate when she uses my full name outside of when she wants to have sex.
“Yeah, I’m on my way home. See you soon.”
“I’ll be here.”
I really hope she’s not about to tell me she’s changed her mind about coming with me, but if so, decision made—I’ll be a Trojan.