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CHAPTER 3: JOLENE
I dart out of the press conference as he starts wrapping it up and I run toward the exit behind the media room—the one I know he’ll use to get back to the team owner’s office. I get there just as I see his figure retreating toward a back set of elevators.
Normally the press isn’t allowed back here, but when Jack was a player, he gave me a keycard so I could talk to him about his real estate development. I never gave it back.
“Mr. Dalton, may I have a private word with you?” I yell as the elevator doors open so he can step on. He glances over at Steve Shanahan, the general manager, before his eyes move back toward me.
“What’s this about?”
I clear my throat. “One of your potential head coaches.”
He gives me a long look before he finally nods, inclining his neck toward the elevator as if to tell me to hurry up before the doors close. I race over and hop on.
“Which potential candidate?” he asks.
I glance a little nervously at Steve.
“Anything you say in here stays between us. Full disclosure, whatever you tell me is likely going to be shared with Steve anyway,” Jack says, correctly reading the situation.
“This is off the record.” My voice is clear despite the nervousness I feel. I’ve gotten good at faking it over the years.
“Agreed,” Jack says. We get to the floor where his office is, and I follow him down the hallway.
Steve accompanies us, but Jack holds up a hand to him just before we walk into the office. “Can you give us a minute?”
Steve nods, and I’m thankful it’ll just be the two of us.
I find I can’t sit when Jack closes the door behind me, though, sealing the two of us into privacy in this rather large, foreboding office.
He slides into the executive chair behind the executive desk, and he studies me while I pace.
I finally stop and square my shoulders as I face Jack Dalton. “Don’t hire Lincoln Nash.”
His brows rise. “Would you like to tell me why?”
I clear my throat. “He’s football royalty, Jack. Hiring him would clearly be nepotism, and how will that look as your first year owning the team?”
He chuckles a little even though there’s really nothing funny about what I’m saying. “But listening to you would look better? I asked you why I shouldn’t hire him, and nepotism isn’t an answer, Ms. Bailey.”
“You’ve heard of the well-publicized feud between the Nash family and the Baileys, right?”
He nods. “Couldn’t someone make the claim that you reporting on football is also nepotism?”
My eyes flash with anger. “They could. They’d be wrong.”
“The same might be said for Lincoln. He was a strong candidate, and I’m sorry you don’t like him, but your reasoning sounds like a family dispute, not a legitimate reason not to hire him.”
“So you’re hiring him?” I press.
“You’re with the media. I can’t confirm that.”
I press my lips together.
“Look, I’m sorry if hiring him will make you uncomfortable, but you don’t have to report on the Aces. I do, however, have the obligation to choose the very best candidate to lead our team to victory, whether that’s Lincoln Nash or someone else. If I only brought in candidates everybody loved, I wouldn’t have a very big pool to pick from, would I?”
“I suppose not,” I mutter. The only coach everyone seemed to love—Coach Mitch Thompson—has retired, which is why there’s an opening for a new head coach in the first place. “Thank you for your time.”
He nods, and I turn to leave.
