Chapter Eighteen
The energy inside the gymnasium of Franklin B. Joy Elementary School was electric as it filled with students and teachers. A little flutter of regret danced in Maisy’s chest when she saw the crowd grow. She reminded herself that it was all for the kids. They were benefitting from the donation. A smile and a wave were the most that would be required of her.
A small group of bored photographers leaned against the back wall, taking pictures of the students as they filed in and sat in their assigned assembly sections.
Heather sat down in the folding metal chair next to Maisy and yelled at two boys to sit cross-legged instead of up on their knees like they often did when they were overexcited.
“You okay, hon?” she asked Maisy behind her hand. “Your face looks flushed.”
It was probably a rash from Sam’s day-old whiskers this morning. Soon, Maisy would tell Heather all about Sam. But not yet.
“It’s just hot.”
As always, Heather went for the lighter angle to distract her friend. “Look at Dr. Harding. She must have gone shopping. New suit. And I would die for those shoes.”
Maisy checked out the heels on the principal’s red pumps. “No, you would die in those shoes. I wouldn’t last more than an hour.”
“Liar. The shoes you wore for the gala looked even higher in the picture you sent. Damn, I still wish you had saved them.”
Maisy didn’t tell Heather that the last time she’d seen those shoes Sam had accidentally sat on them. She pinched her mouth, trying not to crack a smile. She had enjoyed examining him for damage last night. He was fine.
Speak of the devil. He walked into the gymnasium wearing a gray suit, striped blue shirt, and thin tie. He inclined his head as he listened to the man next to him, but his eyes wandered around the room until they found her. The air crackled when their gazes met.
Heather tapped Maisy on the jaw and closed her mouth. “Don’t drool, girl. Your kids will never let you forget it.”
“Who’s drooling? I’m calm, cool, and collected.” Maisy indignantly smoothed her hair back while Heather laughed. And Sam. He seemed to think it was funny, too, by the way he was laughing at her.
“Good morning, students, teachers, and guests,” Dr. Harding said into the microphone.
“Good morning, Dr. Harding,” the students chimed back.
“What a wonderful treat we have in store for you today. We are honored to have Mr. Zumaeta, the owner of the Indianapolis Turbos—”
“And Donut King!” Zoom added, mugging for the camera.
“That’s right. The Donut King is here today. He is going to share something very special with all of us.” The students clapped and cheered in their usual over-the-top way that took time to settle down before Dr. Harding could continue.
Everyone stood for the Pledge of Allegiance, and once again, it took effort to redirect the students to the front of the gym. Maisy put a hand on a very noisy fourth grader’s shoulder and caught Sam watching her with a wicked gleam in his eyes. She wished she hadn’t let him know how much she used to get in trouble when she was younger.
Finally, Dr. Harding made a formal introduction and offered the microphone to Zoom. Seeing a photographer, she posed, looking so silly even the kids were laughing during the long, awkward moment.
Zoom clutched the microphone with both hands. “Hey there, kids! It’s been a long time since I was an elementary school student. Back then I spent more time in detention than in the classroom. Ha-ha.”
Several boys in the back row shouted, “Me, too.” They were quickly separated by the fifth-grade teacher.
Zoom was just getting started. He hammed it up about what school was like when he was a young man, making sure to include all references to corporal punishment and memorizing the three R’s. Maisy wanted to ask him if he’d written on a slate, too.
Sam was glaring at Zoom as if he wanted to touch his shoulder to quiet him, too. They each had people to look after.
“But telling you all about me isn’t why I’m here today, now is it?” Zoom asked.
“Nooooooo,” the students answered loudly. Charlie Zumaeta didn’t hear the innuendo of boredom, which was just fine.
“Now, you know all about the Turbos and the way their season has been going, right? You kids like the Turbos?” Cheers erupted. “We have a great team, that’s for sure. Kevin Halderman was here yesterday. And today we have some guys from the front office. They can’t throw or hit a ball, but they know how use a computer and create lots of paperwork. Ha! Wave to the kids, Sam and the rest of you!”
Sam and two others next to him waved grudgingly. Behind Maisy, Anthony told his friends, “That guy, Sam, he actually plays pretty good for an old guy. He was out on the field yesterday.”
Good for Anthony! She was going to make him his favorite Nutella and banana sandwich next chance she had.
“Now, we got really lucky this year when one of your own teachers came to Indianapolis and paid us a visit.”
Heads turned Maisy’s way. She sat back in her chair and glued her smile to her face.
Zoom continued. “Having Miss Gray in our stadium turned the tide. She’s become our little good-luck charm! Where are you, Miss Gray? There you are! Come on up here and join me.”
Maisy almost wished she’d never accepted Zoom’s fake offer for school supplies from Sam. Then again, she would never have gotten to know Sam if she hadn’t taken the donation. And the school needed it. She stood up and straightened her shoulders. The sooner she smiled and took the check from Zoom, the sooner they could all get back to normal. Well, the new normal.
When Maisy arrived at the front of the gym, Zoom opened his arms and wrapped her in a bear hug that perked up the photographers. Bulbs flashed and a man with a video camera moved closer. She recognized the logo of a news station in Indianapolis. The kids clapped eagerly, leaning in and waving to make the video reel.
When he released her, Zoom signaled for the prop that leaned against the wall. A very large check.
“I hear there are some things you need here at…” He turned to Maisy and lowered his voice a fraction. “What is the name of this school again?”
Behind them Dr. Harding whispered, “Joy Elementary School.”
“Oh, yeah, of course. See how old I am? Can’t remember sh—” Maisy gave him a soft elbow in the ribs. “—stuff. Joy Elementary School. Ha!”
Maisy was afraid to look at Sam’s face. If she did, she’d either laugh or cry. This was humiliating and funny at the same time.
Zoom held it in front of him. “So, Miss Gray and students of…Joy, before I give this check to Miss Gray and your principal, I have another request to make of you.”
Maisy’s body tensed. This was not in the plan. No more deals or requests of any sort. She wanted a check and a path back to her chair. Nothing else. Well, maybe Sam. She wanted more of him. That was sorted in her mind as a to-be-continued issue.
“So, this is going to be great for you and your school.” Zoom waved the check so wildly Maisy stepped back to avoid getting hit. “But this is just back-to-school supplies for you. That means books and pencils and paper, right?”
It was more complicated than that. There were special supplies like calculators and dictionaries and highlighters. It wasn’t worth it to explain that some of these kids didn’t have access to simple things like organizers and backpacks. While school supplies weren’t exactly exciting, they were greatly appreciated, even by the kids.
Zoom continued. “I saw your playground and your baseball field when I drove in this morning, and it occurred to me that they’re a little run-down. I wonder if you’d like some of those new climbing jungle gyms with nets and swirly things that look like castles and forts?”
Maisy tapped her foot wildly. She didn’t like where this was going. Most of the kids were on their knees now. Her fellow teachers weren’t doing a thing about it because they were just as excited.
“The Turbos are getting close to clinching the pennant. All we need is a few more wins and we’ve got it. But we need a little help from Miss Gray here. What do you say we both get what we need, gang? You receive a new playground and playing field and we get our good-luck charm to a game?”
So, this was the tactic. The kids. Maisy should have guessed.
The gym erupted in cheers. Cameras flashed. Zoom smugly tried to hand her the check. She didn’t take it. Dr. Harding nervously grabbed it.
No one even questioned whether Maisy was going to agree. How could she refuse her own school such a wonderful gift? The kids deserved a better playground than the shabby, worn-down, half-broken play structure they were currently using. And a field, with new sports equipment, that would be amazing. All she had to do was relive her biggest mistake. Again.
A strange numbness enveloped Maisy as she pictured herself waving to Kevin and smiling at the crowd. Once more, she could be the cute little sidekick. The lucky charm. What a wonderful example she was to little girls everywhere. You can’t play the game, but you can smile in the stands and be the cheerleader with the magic touch. Ugh.
Where would it stop? Was she chained to the Turbos for the rest of her life because of some stupid superstitious nonsense?
It took her a minute to realize Zoom was still talking. Oddly, his lips were moving, but there was little sound coming out. He spoke up and tapped on the microphone. “Hey, is this thing working?”
Dr. Harding was busy trying to calm down a group of students who had started a happy dance. No one but Maisy heard him.
She shrugged. “Must be broken.”
Zoom gave up. “Maybe I should get you a new PA system while I’m at it.”
Maisy raised her chin and prepared to break her kids’ hearts. “Charlie, I’m not going to the game.”
He cupped a hand to his ear. “What’s that?”
“I am not going to the game. I can’t help you win.”
He thought she was being humble. “Aww now, Maisy, you don’t give yourself enough credit. Of course your presence at the game matters. This is a win-win for everyone!”
Zoom stepped toward the front row of kindergarten students and gave them a high five. He posed for a picture. The large check in his hands practically blocked the kids.
Sam was nowhere to be seen. Dr. Harding came forward and posed for pictures.
“This is a mistake,” Maisy explained.
No one was listening to her. Maisy started to walk away, but Zoom snaked a hand around her shoulders. “Get another picture of our lucky charm.”
***
Sam handed Anthony a twenty-dollar bill. “Thanks. And just a reminder, this is between you and me.”
Anthony pocketed the twenty. “I don’t get it. Why did you want me to pull the plug on the microphone?”
“It’s complicated. Let’s just say, it’s a favor for Miss Gray.”
“Is it about that donut guy? ‘Cause I can tell Miss Gray doesn’t like him.”
“No, she does not,” Sam said, impressed with the kid’s assessment. “Do you know why?”
“Duh. He thinks he’s some kind of king. He’s bossy like one, too.”
Sam held out his hand. “Call me when you get older, kid. I’ll give you a job someday.”
Even though Sam felt guilty for corrupting a kid, there had been no other way. And it wasn’t really corrupting if they were doing the right thing. Zoom was the corruption in this case.
When Zoom attempted his devil’s bargain with Maisy, Sam had been so angry he was prepared to crawl over three classes of first graders to get to Zoom at the front of the gym.
Then he’d seen the microphone cord snaked along the side of the gym toward the back where the reporters were standing. To reach it required crawling under a table the reporters were using for their equipment. Anthony was in the perfect position. He’d whispered his request to Anthony. Without questioning him, the kid had slid down on the floor and done the job. Perfectly.
Anthony held up the twenty. “I woulda done it for free. I’d do anything for Miss Gray.”
“Yeah. Me, too,” Sam whispered.
Anthony ran to catch up with his class that was starting to leave the gym.
Sam drew a deep, steadying breath and started toward Maisy. Zoom gripped her for a photo op and she looked ready to rip the damn check in half.
Heather stopped him. “She’s barely hanging on.”
“She’s not the only one.”
“I think she’s going to rip that check in half.”
“If she doesn’t, I will.”
Heather seemed to approve of his answer. She tapped his shoulder with her fist. “Go get ’em.”
Sam cut through the photographers and made his way toward Maisy, fresh and beautiful in a yellow cotton dress. It was a contrast to Zoom in his ridiculous purple suit and green striped tie.
Zoom spotted him. “Hey, there you are, Sam. Join the photo.”
Sam ignored him. He blocked Maisy from the crowd and lowered his mouth to her ear. “You don’t have to do this.”
She looked up, her lips pressed tightly together, and shook her head. Why would she believe him? Sam should have anticipated this. It was his fault.
What was it she had said last night? Three strikes and he was out?
“Hey, Hunter, you’re blocking Maisy. Either turn around or get out of the picture.” Zoom thought he was being funny. Sam wanted to deck him.
Sam turned toward the cameras, still blocking Maisy. “That’s enough for today. We’re done.”
Zoom protested. “What are you talking about? We still haven’t taken pictures out on the playground.”
Lowering his voice, Sam said, “There isn’t going to be a playground, Zoom. Not from the Turbos.”
Zoom’s eyes grew dark. Not only was Sam opposing him, but he’d failed to call him Mr. Zumaeta. A double first. “What are you talking about, Hunter? Of course the Turbos will build these kids a playground.”
“No, we won’t. Not this way.”
Zoom looked back and forth between Sam and the reporters, who were paying acute attention to the exchange. Sam didn’t even care.
“You got something else up your sleeve, Sam? You want to build a whole new school or something?” Zoom joked nervously.
“The truth is you surprised me with that offer, Zoom.” Sam swallowed past the bitter taste on his tongue. They were both acting for the press now. “The discretionary budget you provide me is tight. It wouldn’t be right to invite Miss Gray to the ballpark in exchange for a whole new playground, as nice as that would be, without discussing this with our financial department. That’s not how we operate. We run a fiscally responsible organization for our fans.”
Dr. Harding hugged the check, looking like she might cry.
“We’ll find a way to help the kids get a playground,” he assured her. “But not this way.”
Zoom’s face was turning red. “Who the hell is in charge here, Hunter? Last time I checked, I was the owner of the Turbos.”
Sam met his gaze with steel. “And you made me the general manager.” Cheap Charlie could always pay for it himself. But he wouldn’t.
From the corner of his eye, Sam glimpsed the guy from sports radio holding his microphone their way. Talk radio was going to a have a field day with this. No doubt he was going to be blamed for screwing things up with Maisy. Whatever. The Turbos and their pennant could go to hell for all Sam cared. He would rather see the team finish last this year than watch Maisy waving to the crowd and pretending she didn’t care that she was being blackmailed for a swing set.
Zoom grabbed Sam by the arm and twisted him around to face him. He raised his voice. “You may be the manager now, but that can change very quickly.”
Someone gasped nearby.
“I have a contract until the end of this year. Unless you’re firing me right now, I intend to keep doing my job as I see fit.”
Sam wouldn’t be surprised if he was fired on the spot.
“Maybe you two should take this someplace private,” Dr. Harding scolded, as if they were fifth-grade boys who’d just rolled in dirt.
Suddenly aware they had an audience, Zoom smiled at the curious reporters as if nothing had happened. “Aww, we’re all right. This happens all the time between us, right, Sam? We’ll get back to Indy and check those bank accounts. I’m sure we can smooth this out.”
Sam said nothing. He turned to tell Maisy not to worry, but she was gone. He spotted her in the back of the gym, directing her class out the doorway.
He should follow her and explain that he’d had no idea what Zoom had planned for the assembly. But he changed his mind. Why would Maisy talk to him? Once again, she was being railroaded into doing something she didn’t want to do.
The best thing right now was damage control. He needed to get to his financial department and maybe even his legal department. Maisy was not going to be blackmailed to come back to the ball game.
Sam had no way of knowing that his day was about to get a hell of a lot worse.