Lisa Ruff - Man of the Year

“Pretty good, Ms. Boss-lady,” Lane answered playfully. “We’ve got the storyboards ready for Big Snot Auto Parts. I think they’ll go for it.”

Samantha laughed at Lane’s irreverence. “Good. When do you meet with them?”

Stuart answered. “Next Tuesday.”

“I’d like to see what you’ve got planned.” Samantha glanced at the clock. “Not this afternoon. How about first thing tomorrow morning?”

The two men agreed, and Samantha moved on to her office. She smiled, thinking about Stuart and Lane. As a creative team, they worked together beautifully, though she sometimes thought that they shared the same mind. Often you’d ask a question of one, and the other would answer. Or one would finish the sentence that the other had started. Nice guys, but odd—perfect for advertising and her company.

As she went through the door to her office, Samantha noticed a short, blond spike of hair peeking over the top of her blue swivel chair. Those pale spikes could only belong to Brenda Miller, Samantha’s right-hand woman. Brenda kept Samantha’s world organized. She followed the progress of current projects, passed on the information she thought needed to be heard, and filed the rest for future use. Samantha was certain Brenda could do at least seven things at once. Besides all that, Brenda was Samantha’s closest friend.

“Hey, what is this? Some sort of coup?” Samantha teased. “I’m gone for two hours, and you’ve already taken over.”

“Samantha!” Brenda spun around in her boss’s chair, ignoring her teasing. “How did everything go? Did you meet the team?”

The question was laced with more excitement and zest than Brenda usually mustered for business. She and her husband, Craig, a lawyer, were dedicated Rainiers fans. She had made Samantha promise that she would get autographs of any new players for Brenda’s collection.

“It was fine.” Samantha dropped her briefcase to the floor and perched on the edge of the desk, flipping through the mail piled on it.

“Come on, Samantha,” Brenda begged. “Fine cannot describe a trip to a locker room full of half-naked, gorgeous hunks of male flesh.”

Samantha laughed. “Why do you think they were half-naked?”

“Wishful thinking.”

Samantha chuckled at Brenda’s wistful look. “Well, I might have noticed one or two that were wearing less than the regulation uniform.” An image of Jarrett Corliss wrapped in a damp towel popped into her mind, as if it were a jack-in-the-box that had wound itself up, springing into her head unannounced. Samantha blinked, pushed the image back into the box and slammed the lid tight.

“What do you mean? Or should I say who do you mean?”

“No one,” Samantha denied firmly.

“Bull. You met someone.”

Samantha shook her head. “I’ll tell you later. What’s happened here at the factory?”

Brenda allowed the subject change without comment. “Running wild and crazy as usual. If there are any problems, everyone seems to be handling them on their own and not sharing them with me.” She levered herself out of Samantha’s chair with some effort. “Boy, that gets harder to do every day.”

Samantha reached out and helped her friend to her feet, steadied her, then patted the protruding stomach. Six months pregnant, Brenda had started to waddle a bit. “Junior giving you problems today?”

“Only when he does a tap dance on my bladder.” She sighed. “Now, the urgent mail is on the left, the not-so-urgent is on the right, the important messages are here, I fielded the rest. You want a cup of coffee?”

“I can get one myself. I thought the smell made you nauseous.” Samantha sat and looked over the piles Brenda had indicated.

“Not anymore,” Brenda said with a grimace. “Now cat food, that makes me green.” Both women laughed at that.

“Then, yes, thank you. I’d love a cup. And if you’ve got time, I’d like to go over the material I picked up at the Rainiers today. I think I have a campaign just about figured out.”

“Jeez, you’re quick. Stuart and Lane will be disappointed. They want to come up with all the brilliant ideas.”

Samantha wiggled her eyebrows and did a poor imitation of Groucho Marx. “I had a lot of inspiration while I was there.”

Brenda groaned. “Okay, I’ll get my notepad and the coffee and be right back.”

Samantha pulled a thick file from her briefcase. She took an envelope of photographs from the file and went to the large worktable just outside her office door. Around her, activity buzzed. Stuart and Lane took turns shooting a foam basketball through a hoop over the windows. Samantha didn’t ask what that had to do with auto parts. A printer hummed, spitting out paper. Carol hunched over a computer, composing a layout. Somewhere in the back Pam argued on the phone.

Samantha spread the photographs out before her on the table. Eight-by-ten headshots mingled with the “action” poses that she had always found corny. She pulled out the headshots and lined them across the table. Players were identified by name across the bottom of each photo. Other personal data, vital statistics and averages were listed on the back. None of the official information said much about the individuals. Samantha recalled her conversations with the players: their jokes, their quirks, their stories all came back to her.

“So this is the new team.” Brenda peeked over Samantha’s shoulder. “Here’s your coffee.”

“Thanks.”

“Not bad.” Brenda picked up a photo. “Hey, this is José Alvendia. He used to play for Houston. Craig and I wondered what had happened to him. He used to be really good.”

“Let’s hope he’s still really good.” Samantha eyed the photo. “Between you and me, Elliott told me that this is the last chance he’s giving the team. If they don’t turn things around, he’s going to sell it.”

“What? I thought the city had a contract with him for two years.”

“No, only one year is guaranteed. The second year depends on this season’s revenues.”

“You think they can do it? Pull the club out of the toilet, I mean?” Brenda knew as much or more about the team as anyone, and the skepticism was evident in her tone.

“I don’t know. Elliott’s put some money into getting players. About half of these guys are new this year.” Samantha waved at the spread of photos with her coffee cup. “But your guess is as good as anyone’s whether they can pull it off.”

“Well, that could either mean new energy, or too many egos to make a team work together.”

“Exactly.” Samantha sipped her coffee thoughtfully. “But for better or worse, we’ve got to shove our personal doubts aside and assume they’ll succeed.”

Brenda eased herself onto a chair at the side of the table. “Maybe we should just stick to auto parts and bookstores.”

Samantha eyed the photos as she pondered Brenda’s words. Not only had the Rainiers been rock-bottom in the league, they’d also managed to bring just about every scandal swirling around the club: drugs, drunk driving, bar fights. One player had even been caught having an affair with the mayor’s wife.

“Well, at least the problem players have either been suspended indefinitely or left the team,” Samantha said, thinking aloud.

“Or they’re in jail.”

“Don’t remind me. It’s been four months since the end of last season. If we hit the public with a whole new image, play up the bright future the team has, I think we can win the fans over.”

“So what’s your big idea, boss?” Brenda sipped the glass of water she held. “How’s the rookie ad-lady going to save the day?”

Samantha perched on the edge of the table, facing Brenda. “Try this one: When I was talking with some of the players, I had this flashback to grade school. Do you remember at recess, the boys would try to outdo one another with jokes and tricks when they were around the girls? They’d do all this silly stuff just to get our attention and we ended up thinking they were just that—silly?”

“Yeah, and the weirdest ones always turned out to be the guys you dated in high school,” Brenda said with a laugh. “So how does this sell a baseball team?”

“What if we play on that image to reintroduce the team to the public? Especially the new ones. Set up a series of commercials with the players shown as boys. Take them through childhood when they’re on the playground to adulthood in the stadium. Each guy would have some particular talent that revealed itself at an early age. Or maybe it’s just a quirk that has followed him through life that makes him good at what he does now.”

“You mean like the naughty boy throwing a rock that breaks a church window?” Brenda asked. “In the next spot, he’s the team’s star pitcher.”

“Exactly. That’s a good one.”

“What about the print ads and the billboards?”

“We could use stills of each player, showing a parody of them as a kid, then as an adult. You know, a photo of a kid breaking the church window, then a still of the actual player winding up for a pitch.” Samantha felt the seed of the idea blossoming in her head. “We can use the new faces on the team. The old ones, too. Introduce all of them so it’s like there’s a completely new ball club. We give the customer the feeling of getting to know the team from day one. How a new era of great baseball got started. Or, at least a new season.” Samantha finished with a shrug.

Brenda sat for a moment sipping her water. “This has promise, boss. You’re good. But I’m still thinking about those half-naked men. What about them?”

“What half-naked men?”

“The half-naked men that gave you that glazed look a little while ago? You said you’d explain later. It’s later now.” Brenda was watching Samantha with wide, guileless eyes.

Samantha was not fooled. “Hmm. Think you’re pretty smart, don’t you?”

“That’s why you hired me.”

“I haven’t quite figured out where the half-naked men fit into the picture, but I have my target.”

“Who?”

“Jarrett Corliss.”

“The pitcher with the bum shoulder? Why him?”

Samantha sorted through the photos and pulled one from the mess. “This is why.” She handed it to Brenda.

Brenda took one look at the blond, blue-eyed man and whistled her approval. “My, oh my. He was with Arizona a while ago, wasn’t he? I wondered what happened to him.” Brenda shot an inquiring look at Samantha, then added, “Well, his shoulder may be toast, but the rest of him has sure improved with age.”

“Brenda, I am telling you the complete and honest truth—this man is the best-looking thing in a damp towel that I’ve ever seen in all my twenty-eight years.” Samantha pointed her finger at the other woman. “And that opinion is never to be mentioned outside of this conversation.”

Brenda had a steadily widening grin on her face. “That good, huh? He’s the reason for your glazed, dreamy look?”

Samantha had to smile. “Well, he did kind of…pop into my head unexpectedly.”

The two burst into laughter that had a decidedly wicked ring to it. Others in the office glanced up to see what the joke was, then went back to what they were doing after deciding that it was private.

Samantha wiped the corner of her eyes. “He’s also the…what do I want to say? He’s the smoothest man I’ve ever met.” She felt her blood sizzle from the memory of Jarrett’s bold appraisal. “He’s from somewhere south—”

“Oklahoma,” Brenda supplied, looking at the back of the photo she held.

“Oklahoma, then. He has a drawl and entirely more charm than what’s good for him.”