Stephanie Doyle - Betting On The Rookie

She handed him the tie she had picked out, and he looped it around his neck. “Now remember this next part is a little bit of a performance. I want to make sure you’re aware an audience is listening to everything you say. You have to be careful. In some respects, you want to keep a shield up between you and the audience. A layer of self-defense. You don’t want to say anything too pointed or something that might attract people’s negative opinion. However, the more candid you are, the more they will warm to you.”

“You want me to be guarded, but also candid.”

Sam beamed. “Exactly. Be yourself. Just don’t give them everything.”

“You understand what you’re saying right now makes no sense.”

“Trust me, it will make perfect sense when you watch it back on TV later.”

“Are you going to watch?”

Sam pointed to the television. She had agreed not to be in the room with him, but she’d asked Jocelyn for the TV here so she could at least watch and assess her client’s performance.

“Every step of the way. I’ll be able to give you notes after.”

“Swell. Notes on being candid.”

“You’re in a whole new ballpark now. Get it...ballpark?”

He winced. “Wow, that was bad.”

She punched his shoulder. “It was funny.”

“It was not even close to being funny.”

“I’m a funny person,” Sam insisted and then watched as he burst out laughing.

“I’m sorry, honey, but funny is not the first word that anyone would assign to you. Smart, cool, sophisticated...terrifying. Funny might be somewhere down here.” Evan held his hand to his knees.

Then Sam did something she was pretty sure she hadn’t done since she was five years old.

She pouted.

She could feel it. Her bottom lip pushed out as she crossed her arms over her chest. She would have harrumphed, but she had some pride. Girls who pouted did so to get something from men, and Sam didn’t need anything from a man. Samantha Baker didn’t pout.

Except she was pouting now. And apparently her pouting only made him laugh more.

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry,” he said as he walked over and pried her hands away from her body so he could hold them. “You’re right. You are funny. You are being super funny right now.”

She wanted to punch his arm again. She wanted to...

The door to the room opened. It was Jocelyn, “Hey, Evan, you’re up.”

“Right. One second.”

The door closed, and he turned back to Sam. “Seriously, I wish you were in there with me.”

“You’ll be fine.”

“You’ll be waiting for me.”

“Right here.”

He nodded as if that gave him some satisfaction. Then he took a deep breath.

“Good luck,” she told him. “Go kill it.”

Then he was gone, and Sam settled in to watch the show.

After twenty minutes Sam wouldn’t exactly call what he was doing killing it. More like...bombing big-time. He clearly was not someone who shone in the limelight. Which was strange given how utterly handsome he was and truly charming when he was talking to you face-to-face.

He should have been captivating.

Instead he seemed uncomfortable as he fidgeted in his chair while some female reporter from ESPN asked him what he predicted his batting average might be once he had to face off against major league pitching.

He stumbled around the answer, not really saying anything to indicate how good he planned to be. Which he’d already assured her was going to be very good. This was not a man without self-confidence.

Humility, that’s what his high school sweetheart had remembered about him, and it showed. He didn’t think he should be the one everyone was focused on, even though he was by far the best player on the team.

He’s a good guy. A genuinely good guy.

Sam would have believed her cynicism was so deeply ingrained no man would be safe from it. That she would forever believe all men were hiding parts of themselves from view until some trigger revealed their violent darker side.

Evan Tanner, however, was proving to be resistant to her cynical belief. He was charming when he wanted to be, funny when he wanted to be. Yet when he’d believed the worst about her, he wasn’t afraid to let her know that, either.

Through all their interactions she sensed a solidness about him. A forthrightness that was there for everyone to see. She couldn’t imagine he had anything to hide. Certainly not a dark side.

He was the hero. Not the villain.

“Uh...no... I’m not involved with anyone.”

Another female reporter was asking about his social life. Yes, that was something he clearly didn’t want to talk about. Was he blushing?

Sam smiled. They would have to work on drafting some practiced answers to those kinds of questions. If he did what everyone was projecting and became a superstar, then he would need to be more relaxed with a camera in his face.

The smoother he was during interviews, the more chance he’d have to pick up sponsors. More sponsors meant more money. And that was the game Sam needed to play if she was going to show everyone she was back on top. An agent any athlete would want to have.

“You are currently being represented by Samantha Baker...” one reporter began.

Here it was. Sam tensed, and, as she watched, so did Evan. It was clear that he wanted to say something, in some way to stand up for her. It’s who he was. He was built to be a knight.

But she’d told him when he agreed to do this, it was necessary to stick to the script.

“Yes, as many of you may know, Scout Baker was working for the Rebel organization as a scout when she found me coaching a high school baseball team. She invited me to a tryout camp, and, well, my life really hasn’t been the same since.”

Sam nodded. That sounded sincere. Real. Most likely because it was.

“Anyway I owe the Baker family a tremendous debt, and I’m confident that Samantha will do right by me.”

There. It made perfect sense. A man could overlook scandal out of loyalty to the family. Sam hated that she had to set the narrative that way, that he had taken pity on her, but at least he would be perceived as squeaky clean despite her past.

“Are you at all worried about her questionable character and her collusion with her client to cover up an assault?”

Sam gritted her teeth. She had hoped for no follow-up, but this part was still scripted just in case. All he had to say was: I’m not here to talk about my agent’s past. I’m here to talk about my future in baseball.

A perfect line that would pivot everyone back to the game and him and away from her.

“She didn’t collude with her client on anything. She was lied to by a man she trusted to tell her the truth. And what really cranks my gear is that somehow it’s like she’s to blame for what that asshole did. This guy is a violent scumbag who hit his fiancée, tried to cover it up and then lied about it. Why is my agent to blame for that? I’m perfectly happy with Samantha Baker as my agent, and, no, I have no concerns about her character at all. Now, if we’re done here?”

Evan stood so quickly he almost toppled over his chair. A few reporters were still firing questions at him, obviously wanting to feed on the sound bite he had given them.

Sam closed her eyes and sighed. He was going to make the ESPN highlights tonight by calling Richard Stanson a violent scumbag asshole.

At least it hadn’t been douche bag. He’d at least taken her advice and avoided that one.

The door to the office where she was waiting flew open and then slammed shut behind her. Evan was already loosening his tie as he mumbled under his breath about more assholes.

“I’m not here to talk about my agent’s past. I’m here to talk about my future in baseball,” Sam said. “It’s a great line. You know how I know? I wrote it for you.”