the part-time hours offered at Frank's
Food Warehouse. He didn't, however, know her qualifications. He had no idea
whether she had office or computer skills.
He also wasn't ready to
tell her that he was a Rogue. So he shrugged, said, “No one at the moment.”
“If you think of someone,
send her my way. Hours and pay are good and we have great company benefits. I'm
also willing to train.”
She pulled a file from the
middle of the pile closest to her and withdrew a blank piece of paper. “I need
your Five Fun Facts for Rogues Highlights. You promised to send them in, but
apparently they got lost in the mail.”
Highlights was the free fan
brochure available at the stadium's main gate. It featured the ballplayers'
pictures, statistics, and personal info.
“Mail can be slow.” Kason
blew her off. “I'm sure the Fun Facts will arrive in a day or two.”
“Highlights goes to press
tomorrow,” she said evenly. “To be on the safe side, let's do the facts now.”
“Now isn't good for me.”
He pushed forward in his
chair, and she hit him with, “Go for the door, and I swear I'll tackle you.”
Lady had guts.
“Five questions, Kason,
quick and painless. Fans like to identify with their favorite players. These
are the people who fill the stands and pay your salary.” She poised her pen
over the paper. “Favorite candy bar?”
“Butterfinger.” He spoke
between clenched teeth. “Movies?”
“Blade Runner and Raiders of the Lost Arc.”
“ Music?”
“Bruce Springsteen and
early Bob Seger.”
“If you didn't play
baseball you'd...?”
“Be an architect.”
“Quote or philosophy?”
“Play hard, as if Opening
Day were October.”
Revelle peered at him over
the rim of her glasses. “Single or seeing someone?”
“That's more than five
questions.”
“The women on the sixth
floor want to know.”
The women who'd come out of
their offices to check him out. “I'm presently living with someone.”
“That will break a lot of
hearts.”
He didn't think of himself
as a heartbreaker. Dayne, however, did provide a good excuse. She hadn't
officially moved out. If women thought him involved, a few might respect his
relationship.
Revelle set the paper
aside, moved on. “Promotion time, Kason Rhodes. Ever hear of Platinum?” He
shook his head.
Revelle filled him in. “It's
an upscale jewelry shop. Gayle de Milo is known for her designer pieces,
commissioned for an elite clientele. She's recently branched out to a
cosmopolitan, more moderately priced line as well. She's planning a television
commercial, and she wants to feature you.”
Pimp jewelry? Not in this
lifetime.
The thought was so
ludicrous, Kason hit his feet. He wore a ten-year-old watch that lost five
minutes over the course of a year even with a new battery. He couldn't tell the
difference between fourteen-karat gold and gold plated.
He stood tall, arms crossed
over his chest. “I'm not your guy.”
“Gayle believes you'd be
perfect.”
“Gayle doesn't know me.”
“She's seen you play ball.
You're hard faced and your intensity is staggering. Her idea for the commercial
centers on romance: the bigger the man, the harder he falls when he meets the
right woman.”
“Get real.”
“Gayle hopes to shoot five
thirty-second commercials,” Revelle continued. “In the first—”
“No 'first,' “ he said,
cutting her off. “I'm not interested.”
She narrowed her eyes,
fight in her features. “It's my job to offer you the promotion. So hear me out.”
Kason admired the corporate
woman. She was all business and no bullshit. Because she was Guy Powers's
niece, she got one more minute. “Wrap it up.”
“The first television
segment will air in May. You'll enter Platinum, looking for a Mother's Day
gift.”
“My mother passed away ten
years ago.”
“It's television, Kason,
not true life.”
“You're asking me to play
someone I'm not?”
“It's acting, for all of
thirty seconds.”
“I'm not an
Food Warehouse. He didn't, however, know her qualifications. He had no idea
whether she had office or computer skills.
He also wasn't ready to
tell her that he was a Rogue. So he shrugged, said, “No one at the moment.”
“If you think of someone,
send her my way. Hours and pay are good and we have great company benefits. I'm
also willing to train.”
She pulled a file from the
middle of the pile closest to her and withdrew a blank piece of paper. “I need
your Five Fun Facts for Rogues Highlights. You promised to send them in, but
apparently they got lost in the mail.”
Highlights was the free fan
brochure available at the stadium's main gate. It featured the ballplayers'
pictures, statistics, and personal info.
“Mail can be slow.” Kason
blew her off. “I'm sure the Fun Facts will arrive in a day or two.”
“Highlights goes to press
tomorrow,” she said evenly. “To be on the safe side, let's do the facts now.”
“Now isn't good for me.”
He pushed forward in his
chair, and she hit him with, “Go for the door, and I swear I'll tackle you.”
Lady had guts.
“Five questions, Kason,
quick and painless. Fans like to identify with their favorite players. These
are the people who fill the stands and pay your salary.” She poised her pen
over the paper. “Favorite candy bar?”
“Butterfinger.” He spoke
between clenched teeth. “Movies?”
“Blade Runner and Raiders of the Lost Arc.”
“ Music?”
“Bruce Springsteen and
early Bob Seger.”
“If you didn't play
baseball you'd...?”
“Be an architect.”
“Quote or philosophy?”
“Play hard, as if Opening
Day were October.”
Revelle peered at him over
the rim of her glasses. “Single or seeing someone?”
“That's more than five
questions.”
“The women on the sixth
floor want to know.”
The women who'd come out of
their offices to check him out. “I'm presently living with someone.”
“That will break a lot of
hearts.”
He didn't think of himself
as a heartbreaker. Dayne, however, did provide a good excuse. She hadn't
officially moved out. If women thought him involved, a few might respect his
relationship.
Revelle set the paper
aside, moved on. “Promotion time, Kason Rhodes. Ever hear of Platinum?” He
shook his head.
Revelle filled him in. “It's
an upscale jewelry shop. Gayle de Milo is known for her designer pieces,
commissioned for an elite clientele. She's recently branched out to a
cosmopolitan, more moderately priced line as well. She's planning a television
commercial, and she wants to feature you.”
Pimp jewelry? Not in this
lifetime.
The thought was so
ludicrous, Kason hit his feet. He wore a ten-year-old watch that lost five
minutes over the course of a year even with a new battery. He couldn't tell the
difference between fourteen-karat gold and gold plated.
He stood tall, arms crossed
over his chest. “I'm not your guy.”
“Gayle believes you'd be
perfect.”
“Gayle doesn't know me.”
“She's seen you play ball.
You're hard faced and your intensity is staggering. Her idea for the commercial
centers on romance: the bigger the man, the harder he falls when he meets the
right woman.”
“Get real.”
“Gayle hopes to shoot five
thirty-second commercials,” Revelle continued. “In the first—”
“No 'first,' “ he said,
cutting her off. “I'm not interested.”
She narrowed her eyes,
fight in her features. “It's my job to offer you the promotion. So hear me out.”
Kason admired the corporate
woman. She was all business and no bullshit. Because she was Guy Powers's
niece, she got one more minute. “Wrap it up.”
“The first television
segment will air in May. You'll enter Platinum, looking for a Mother's Day
gift.”
“My mother passed away ten
years ago.”
“It's television, Kason,
not true life.”
“You're asking me to play
someone I'm not?”
“It's acting, for all of
thirty seconds.”
“I'm not an
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