Page 94 of The Strike Zone

“Can you go further into how you’re proposing to differentiate the channels from each other?”

I flicked back to the slide I’d shown them at the beginning of my presentation. “The Lions, the Jungle Kings, and New York Lions corporate have three very different personalities. The corporate channel will focus more on stats and data, charity projects, and news that encompasses the business as a whole. The other two largely stay the same, homing in on their individuality as teams in the MLB, and widening our audiences. We do want them to both be thought of as the Lions family, however. We want the players involved too—charity games against each other, that sort of thing.”

I took Tim’s nod as one of approval, though it was followed by another stretch of resounding silence that made me wonder if I’d answered the question totally wrong.

For the life of me I couldn’t recall my interview for my current job being this nerve wracking. Or as long. And there hadn’t been three people in it. It had been me and my current boss.

This time the silence was broken by Ava clapping her hands. “Well done, Scout. This was a really great presentation, exactly what we’re looking for. Your ideas are fresh, I loved the one about the players taking over the account for the day. Let us regroup, and if we have any more questions, we’ll follow up before the end of the week.”

I returned her wide smile with one of my own. Mine wasn’t quite as wide, and contained an element of unease, plus it was hard to ignore the ringing in my ears.

“Thank you, I’m happy to hear that.”

Lowe stood, along with Ava. My time was up again; they had a very clear way of cutting things short, I’d give them that.

Guess that’s why they were paid the big bucks.

“This is a big job, Scout,” Lowe said. “We know we’re asking a lot of you, but we think you’re more than capable of delivering. And you can build your own team to support you.”

I gathered up the notes I’d brought in and walked with them to the door.

“We still have a couple of other candidates to see for this role, and we’ll be running a second round of interviews next week for those who go forward, but we’ll be making a decision immediately after that. Needless to say, we’re delighted you’re already part of the Lions family. You’re reliable, creative, and an asset to this company.”

I held in the blush as best I could. A blush was probably unprofessional. “Thank you, I appreciate that.”

“No, thankyoufor coming in early. Go and get a coffee, and I’ll look forward to seeing what you have planned this week.” Ava grinned.

I managed a small laugh now I wasn’t quite so tense about messing up my interview. “It’s going to be fun.”

Lowe leaned against the door frame. “Do share.”

“It was an idea the interns on our team came up with. Do you know the dog we use for Opening Day bat collection?” The two of them nodded. “He’s coming in, and once I’ve found some willing participants, they’ll race him around bases. The sales team is working with pet care brands for the week, and it’s to announce the Lions for Dogs game.”

Ava wagged a finger at me and laughed loudly. “See, this is why you’re perfect for this job. Man, I’m looking forward to that game, I’m bringing Stanley, my doodle. It’s going to be chaos.”

I nodded, grinning wide. “It sure is.”

Lions for Dogs—an idea that was added into the mix at the beginning of the season and immediately green lit—was taking place in a couple of months to highlight and support the role of service dogs, as well as raising money for several service dog charities. It was an idea entirely stolen from the Dodgers, but, as I understood it, once Penn Shepherd had caught wind, he immediately insisted it was made bigger and better.

The plans were still being finalized for the entire Lions eleven-acre site to be turned into a doggie paradise for the day—including grooming salons, play areas, and swimming pools. Each pup in attendance would receive a doggy bag containing a special dog-sized Lions jersey, lots of doggy treats, and heaps of Lions-branded dog necessities.

My personal favorite was the Lions poop bag dispensers coming out the dog’s butt.

“My husband is too competitive for his own good.” Lowe chuckled. “We’ll let you get back to work, message us when you’re filming the race this week. We’ll come down and watch.”

“I will do. Thank you again.”

The moment I heard the meeting room door close behind me, I rushed down the corridor, ducked into the bathroom, and breathed the biggest sigh of relief.

It wasn’t the best interview of my life, but it could have been worse. And now it was over, for the moment, until the next interview. If therewasa next interview.

Standing in front of the mirror, I gave myself a thorough once-over. Not much had changed since the one I’d given myself right before the interview, save for a fresh glob of mascara under my bottom lash I hadn’t noticed before.

My heart rate slowed, the tension across my brow lessened, my shoulders lowered.

I’d survived.

I turned on the faucet as my phone pinged.

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