Page 33 of More Than Pen Pals

“Yep.”

“Why?”

“I’m a Cardinals fan.”

“What does that have to do with anything? I’m a Brewers fan.”

I take a chance based on the fact she’s oblivious to one of the biggest rivalries in baseball. “Name one player on the Brewers’ roster—past or present.”

Wendy purses her lips while she thinks. “Mickey Mantle?”

“Bzzzz.You’re not a Brewers fan. You’re not abaseballfan if you don’t know who Mickey Mantle played for. But that has nothing to do with this situation, anyway. If you’re a Cardinals fan, it’s illegal to have any positive connection with the Cubs. It’s in the Missouri State Constitution.”

She narrows her eyes. “I don’t believe you. And you’re not from Missouri.”

“I was born there. It counts—kind of like how being born in the U.S. makes you a U.S. citizen.”

“Well, legal or not, he’s all yours.”

I sigh. “What’s his name?”

“Diego Sanchez.”

I almost leap out of my chair. “Diego Sanchez—the best left-handed pitcher of this generation? But he plays for Houston!”

“Not anymore. He was traded overnight, and he needs a new local PR person in Chicago. He has somebody working the national and international PR stuff for him already, but he wants someone local as well. Brian was desperate to get him, but he’s overloaded, as is everybody else … except you. George just made the assignment.”

As much as I despise the Cubs, I can’t pass up this opportunity. Not that declining is an option. I’ve learned that when George Carter decrees something, it’s written in stone. I’m going to be stuck with Diego Sanchez whether I want to be or not. And as a baseball fan, I want to be. Shannon will totally flip when I tell him.

Then something occurs to me. “Do you know why he was traded?” I’ve heard no rumors about a potential trade involving Sanchez, and Houston doesn’t have any other decent lefties. They’re crazy to let him go, and the Cubs would have to trade at least four players to get him. I’m getting a bad feeling about this new client.

“Nope,” Wendy says, “but I think you’re about to find out. Go see George to get all the details.” Before she heads out, she adds, “I’m here for you if you need anything. Don’t be afraid to ask if you don’t know what to do.”

I nod. “Thanks. By the way, I’m now having dinner with Ash instead of lunch.” Of course she makes me explain why and tell her where we’re going.

After Wendy leaves, I head to the lobby to grab a copy of today’sChicago Tribune.I page through the sports section to find any evidence Diego Sanchez was about to be traded, in case I’ve missed something in the past few days. There’s nothing.

I make my way to George’s office with my stomach in knots. If I have to put a positive spin on something terrible Diego Sanchez did to get him traded to the Cubs, of all teams, I’m going to lose it.

George’s secretary waves me into his office before I say a word.

“Leslie.” George stands from his desk as I enter. “Have a seat.” He motions toward the brown leather couch, and he sits in one of the easy chairs across from it.

As I settle onto the couch, I try not to stare at my new boss. George Carter has the bushiest eyebrows and largest ears I’ve ever seen.

“Are you a baseball fan?” he asks.

“I am.”

“Who’s your team?”

I hesitate before saying, “St. Louis.”

“Ah.” He raises one eyebrow, and I flinch as it wiggles. I wonder if his ears wiggle too. “Is that going to be a problem?”

“No, sir.”

“Good. I normally wouldn’t give a big client like this to someone new to the firm, but I know you had a little experience with some minor league baseball players in Peoria, and everybody else here is full up. Sanchez is going to need a lot of attention. Can you handle that?”

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