Page 39 of Ice Princess

Surprised, I answer quickly.

“Gunner, sorry to bother you, but do you have a minute to swing by the stadium? I need your expertise.”

“Yeah. Sure. Give me twenty minutes.”

Since I, technically, should be at the hardware store now, I give my Uncle Robert a call first. I do most of my work via my laptop, so Uncle Robert doesn’t have a problem.

A few minutes later, I pull into the stadium parking lot and head left to the admin section of the building.

Max is sitting behind his giant desk, but he’s so massive, he still manages to make the desk look like a child’s toy. He’s somehow found a button-down shirt in his size and a pair of pants that look ready for a church service.

Usually, Max wears jerseys and sweatpants like the rest of us. I’m surprised to see him in such a formal outfit.

Since the team manager is so engrossed in what he’s looking at, he doesn’t notice that I’m standing in the doorway, I rap my knuckles on the door to get his attention.

His head flings up and he welcomes me in. “Gunner, you’re here. Come in. Oh, and lock the door behind you.”

My eyebrows hike even more. Since his first day, Max has touted an ‘open door policy’. As an out-of-towner, it should have taken him way longer to gain the trust of the team. But we all quickly took to him. He’s been fair and transparent with us.

A little on edge, I sit in one of the chairs facing his desk.

Max hands me a file. “I heard that you went to business school.”

A strange way to start a conversation.“At a state college, but yeah.”

Max waves away my words. “I don’t need a Harvard law degree. But I do need some advice.” He points a thick finger at the binder in my hands. “That’s the financials for the stadium.”

My thumb slides down the spreadsheet, comfortably reading the information. I do all the finances for my uncle’s hardware store but, what’s lesser known, is I also handle his investments.

I’ve always liked math. Numbers, unlike people, are black and white, unpretentious. They don’t add up to anything more than what they are.

Through the years, I’ve told few others about my investment skills. If the secret ever got out, Mom would push me to take over the entire Kinsey family estate and I’d be trapped in an office for the rest of my life.

“It looks like you have a cash flow problem,” I tell Max. “I’d need to see more of your portfolio to tell you anything deeper, but…” I hand the file back to him. “Ticket sales are through the roof with Chance on our team. Why is the stadium bleeding so much money?”

Max gestures to his outfit. “I drove an hour to meet with a fancy accountant this morning just for him to tell me what I already know. Our travel expenses and overhead are far more than the revenue the stadium generates.” Max runs a hand over his head. “Even worse, I just lost another sponsor. That’s three in a row.”

The news stuns me. “Why’d they drop us? Our team’s number one in the state. The Lucky Strikers are doing better than ever.”

Max shakes his head. “Yeah, but we’re big fish in a small pond. They’re looking for a team heading for national or international stadiums.”

I frown.

Max sighs. “Ever since Chance returned to us from the pros, sponsors have been getting antsy. It’s one thing to be the best in a state league and have dreams of making it big. That way, you’re the underdog and everyone is looking at you and rooting for you to grow.” He makes a circle. “But if you’re branded as the teamwho’d rather stay small than strive for the bigger pond, that’s less of a story, less flashing lights, less money.”

“Have you told Chance?”

“I don’t want him to worry. He’ll blame himself and the guy always does something stupid when he feels like something’s his fault.” Max’s eyes flit to me and he says seriously, “Of course, I’d need you to keep this from the others too.”

I nod. “The problem is both simple and difficult. The team needs more cash and that means we need more sponsors. Maybe we take it to the community?”

“The town is giving as much as it can. Local businesses, like your family’s, are the only reason we could stay in the playoffs. But we need a big corporate sponsor. Those won’t just drop out of the sky. Especially now that we’re a team known fornotwanting to go pro.”

“Then let’s change that,” I say simply.

Max stares at me with narrowed eyes.

“Let’s go pro.”

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