Bigger Than Beckham (46 page)

Over pre-dinner drinks at a downtown Italian
bistro restaurant, Martha filled Nate in on her conversations with
both Ginny and Tony. She counted herself blessed to have her
dearest friend to rely on as a sounding board. Talking to Nate was
helping to take the edge off her ragged nerves, the product of an
emotional, roller coaster day not yet close to its end.

“As hard as it is, all you can do now is
chill and wait it out,” Nate said, glancing at the dinner menu.
“And not torture yourself any more than you already have.”

Martha appreciated his continuing efforts to
prop up her spirits, but the fact that she had no interest in even
opening the menu emphasized how tense and out of control she felt.
“Waiting sucks. No patience in these genes, I’m afraid. Not when my
future is in other people’s hands.”

“Maybe not much patience, but I know for a
fact that there’s at least a ton of pure grit in there, babe.” Nate
tipped up his glass, toasted her, and then took a mighty swallow of
beer.

She dredged up a smile. “Aw, thank you,
darlin’. But right now it feels like a whole damn ton of grit is
sitting right here in my gut.” She rubbed a hand across her
belly.

“At least your meeting with Ginny Cross was a
success. Tony sure came through for you on that one,” Nate
said.

“He did, indeed. It’s not in the bag by any
means, but I’m hopeful.”

She did feel genuinely hopeful about Ginny,
but her mind remained stuck on the wrenching meeting with Tony.
When she told him what Steam Train had offered, his face had first
blanched and then turned grim. Her heart had gone out to him
because she knew it wasn’t a matter of his not wanting to match the
brewery’s offer; he simply couldn’t afford to do so. After all,
he’d made it clear to her when they first met that he didn’t have
the means to compete with the big-spending teams in Britain. That
inescapable fact was what had propelled him to seek a new kind of
success in America. Clearly, there was a limit to his bankroll and
his credit, and Steam Train had apparently breached it.

Which sucked for him and her both.

What she couldn’t quite figure was why Tony
had asked for more time, since she couldn’t imagine what kind of
magic he could conjure up in a few hours. And now it had been more
than a few hours since she made him the promise. She’d already let
one call from the Steam Train boss go to voice mail. Malone’s terse
message had made it clear he expected her to get back to him with
no delay. She’d ignored it, but it hadn’t left her mind for an
instant.

“Did you finally get hold of your uncle?”
Nate asked after they’d given their orders to the server.

Martha held back a vulgar retort since such
language wouldn’t do in the upscale bistro Nate had selected. “Not
exactly. He finally left me a message this afternoon, right when I
was with Ginny, unfortunately. When I tried calling him back he
still didn’t answer.” She let out a snort. “Want to know what the
wiener’s message said?”

“I’m not sure,” Nate said with mock alarm.
“You look pretty pissed off.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t slug you, even though
you’re the closest human. The jerk claimed he came down with some
sort of semi-terminal virus yesterday and hasn’t been able to get
out of bed since. Other than to run to the bathroom, which was way
more information than I needed on that front.”

Martha hadn’t believed a word of it. Despite
his often blustering personality, cowardice had always flowed
through Geoffrey Winston’s clogged arteries. She figured that was a
big reason why he’d never made anything of himself.

“If you can believe it,” she continued in a
bitter tone, “he had the nerve to ask me to keep him posted on the
state of negotiations. As if he wasn’t talking to Steam Train or
Rex Daltry or both behind my back.”

Nate shook his head in disgust. “I always say
there’s no enemy like the one in your own family.”

“Amen, brother.” Martha raised her wine glass
to salute him. “Geoffrey played some of the same games with my
father when he was alive. Whatever deal I make, he’s not going to
be a part of it. I’ll sell my shares and let the buyer deal with
him and his twenty percent. I’m done for good with Geoffrey
Winston.”

A frown collected in Nate’s assessing gaze.
“You’ve got every right to be pissed at him, that’s for sure. But
are you sure that’s what your father would want? Cutting him
completely out of your life?”

Ouch.

Of course it wasn’t. Geoffrey had been his
brother’s cross to bear, and Will Winston had borne it with dignity
and grace until the day he died. Martha knew there had been times
when her father could have cut off Geoffrey’s funds, or lopped off
something even worse. But he’d always held himself in check,
offering it up to God. But, sadly, she wasn’t her father, not when
it came to forbearance.

“So, how is Holly going to feel about you
blowing out of town for six weeks of spring training?” she said in
a falsely chipper voice.

Nate laughed. “Nice diversionary tactic,
babe.”

“Well, I already know the answer to that
question, anyway. She’s not one bit happy about it.”

Nate rolled his eyes. “Is that what you guys
jaw about when you’re supposed to be working on the bridal party
outfits?”

“Among other things,” Martha teased.

Her phone jangled inside her bag. She reached
down and snatched it up, glancing at the display.
Rance
Malone
. The man was probably already out of his mind that she
hadn’t called him back.

“It’s Malone. I guess I’d better take it.
Sorry, hon.”

Giving an apologetic smile to the couple at
the next table who were clearly offended that some thoughtless soul
would let her cell phone ring during dinner, she got up and hurried
through the tightly-packed tables.

“Yes, Rance?” she asked as she opened the
door and stepped onto the sidewalk.

“Good evening, Martha. I’m so glad you
answered this time, since you haven’t returned my call. You have
more pressing business to attend to?” Malone’s voice sounded
markedly different from their earlier call. More aggressive. Edgy,
even.

“Sorry,” she said, slightly taken aback by
his tone. “I’ve been tied up for hours, and now I’m having dinner
with my best friend who flew in from Philly for the day just to see
me.”

“Tied up, huh? I’ll bet,” he mocked.

Now he was starting to piss her off. “So,
what’s up, Rance?” she said in something close to a snarl.

“What’s up is that I’ve got an answer for
you, as I promised I would.”

Her stomach pitched. “Ah. Well, let’s have
it, then.”

“Well, I’m afraid it’s not the one you wanted
to hear. I heard what you said loud and clear, but Steam Train
simply can’t give you the kind of guarantee you’re looking for with
respect to retaining all your staff. I assure you we gave your
position due consideration, but our management team is unanimously
opposed to the very idea. Not only would it set a bad precedent in
our business, we already have plans for a new leadership group for
the Thunder. In fact, those plans are more advanced than I was
personally aware of before this afternoon.”

She leaned one arm against the doorframe,
bracing against the deep stab of disappointment that lanced her.
Strangely, she felt entirely lost for words all of a sudden. Why
hadn’t she rehearsed how she’d respond to a flat no on the staffing
issue?

Because you’ve been living in some kind of
fantasy land, girl.

“Martha?” Malone said. “Are you still
there?”

“Yes, I’m here,” she managed. “Is that your
final answer, Rance?”

“I’m afraid so. But we’re still firmly
committed to the figure I laid out this morning. And 13.5 million
dollars is a hell of a fine offer, Martha. In fact, we’re fully
confident you won’t get a better one. Not from Tony Branch. Not
from anybody.”

Smug self-confidence permeated his words, a
sharp contrast to his attitude during this morning’s conversation.
She could only guess that his people had taken a harder look at
Tony’s financials and concluded that their offer had them on very
safe ground. Malone definitely seemed to know that Tony wasn’t
going to be able to match the brewery’s bid.

Thirteen point five million from Steam Train.
Twelve million from Tony.

Did she care about the difference? Though it
was undoubtedly a lot of money, she didn’t care one bit. In a
perfect world, she’d tell Malone to stuff his offer and his
arrogance in the same dark place. Still, she hadn’t been
exaggerating when she told Tony that taking a significantly
inferior offer from him would make her a public laughing-stock. She
even worried that Geoffrey might slap her with a lawsuit, because
choosing Tony’s bid would amount to her vaporizing three hundred
thousand dollars on its way to Geoffrey’s pocket. At least that was
the way he’d surely view it, and she could hardly blame him.

And as much as she wanted to protect Kieran
and Sam and all the others, Geoffrey had no such loyalty, so there
was no way that security for the staff—even if Tony somehow granted
it—could be seen as compensating her uncle in any way for the three
hundred grand in hard cash he’d be foregoing.

“That’s disappointing, Rance,” she replied in
as professional a voice as she could manage, “especially since I
told you it was my bottom line.”

Malone gave a derisive snort. “Listen,
Martha, I’ve been making business deals all my life, and one thing
I’ve learned is that so-called bottom lines have a strong tendency
to change. You know that famous saying—the best laid battle plans
only last until the first encounter with the enemy.”

“Thanks for that pearl of military wisdom,”
she bit out, shivering now in the cool night breeze. “I’m going to
hang up now and go back to enjoying the meal that I regret
interrupting.”

Malone ignored her jibe. “Martha, when can I
expect your response? By the end of the evening, I hope, because
let’s face it, it’s in both our interests to get this deal wrapped
up quickly.”

The bastard is so confident I’ll come
running to him
.

She’d had more than enough of his bullying
tone. “I’ll get back to you when and if I get finished talking to
Tony Branch. So long, Rance, ol’ buddy,” she cooed sarcastically
before hanging up.

Okay, she’d definitely let her anger get the
better of her with that parting shot, but there was no point
worrying about that now. With his smug condescension, Malone had
deserved worse than she’d dished out. The thought that she might
have to ultimately say yes to the man sickened her.

As she rejoined Nate, she felt like she must
be dragging her heart on the ground behind her. The bit of sass
she’d been able to muster with Malone had been just enough to make
her feel she’d preserved a shred of dignity, but it had deserted
her by the time she got to the table.

“Not good, huh?” Nate said as he refilled her
wine glass. She reached for it like a drowning man grabbing at a
life preserver.

“The jerk said no dice to my demand.”

Nate grimaced. “I’m sorry. But, look, maybe
Tony will come through with a better offer. He’s obviously trying
to come up with something, so it’s not over yet.”

“No, not yet.” The words almost stuck in her
throat. All her bottled-up emotions threatened to overwhelm her
increasingly fragile defenses. “But Tony’s got no magic to conjure
up, Nate. I’m going to have to sell my father’s team to a stinking
brewery headed up by a monumental asshat. Daddy must be dying a
second death up there in heaven right now.”

Swallowing against threatening tears, Martha
could scarcely believe how fast it had all unraveled, spinning out
of control in barely a week. But, then again, maybe she’d been
playing out of her league all along.

When it came to running a sports team, the
only big league she played in was the one marked
Failure
.

* * *

After Tony greeted him at the door, Derek
Kavanagh sauntered into the suite for their impromptu discussion.
Kavanagh hadn’t wanted to change his plans for the evening, but
Tony had made it crystal clear on the phone that such a discussion
might mean life or death as far as his bid for the Thunder was
concerned.

Kavanagh shook hands with Rex before plunking
his rangy body down on the sofa. Tony fixed all three of them a
Scotch before taking a seat directly across from Kavanagh. For him,
the drink was more for appearances sake than anything else,
especially since his stomach was bobbing and weaving like a prize
fighter. The jittery feeling surprised him because he almost never
suffered from nerves. Still, right now he was way more wired than
when he’d played in the FA Cup final.

After Martha left, Tony and Rex had argued
heatedly over the consequences of putting even more on the table
than the twelve million dollars Tony had already offered her. Rex,
chagrined that he had gone even that far, had coldly run through a
series of projections for the Thunder’s first year of operation
under their control. Even with a twelve million dollar price tag,
Rex’s best case scenario projected a deficit of close to seven
figures. If they had to pay fourteen million, the shortfall would
blow right through their ability to finance the debt. That kind of
financial Armageddon would render them unable to re-sign all their
Blackhampton stars, much less pay the hefty transfer fees for any
new, top-caliber players.

Tony hadn’t been able to bring himself to
overrule Rex—not when the numbers were so brutally black and white.
To pay anything more than what he’d already offered risked
calamity, and would in all likelihood end up forcing him to turn
his glorious American opportunity into an ignominious, costly
retreat.

He propped his elbows on his thighs and
leaned into them, weaving his fingers together in a tight grip as
he stared at Kavanagh. “There’s going to be no bullshit here, mate.
I’m going to give it to you straight, even though you’re sure as
hell not going to like what I have to say.”