Big Leagues by Jen Estes Read Free Book Online Page A

America. Just the
pencil-pushing staff, none of whom had to worry about persistent
paparazzi, devoted fans or rabid autograph hounds waiting for them
outside the gates.
    The giant coliseum wasn’t hard to find. She’d
seen the unlit stadium lights towering over the palm trees as soon
as she’d exited I-15. Cat pulled her Jeep up to the parking lot’s
security booth.
    Ah, the moat.
    She thumbed through the package Lynette had
sent her. The guard in the booth opened his window and smiled,
revealing a pair of stained dentures. “What can I do for you,
little lady?”
    “Uh, hi there. I’ve got a parking pass in here
somewhere, just a sec.”
    “Oh! You must be our new reporter. You
certainly are a lot prettier.” His face fell. “Sure was awful what
happened to the last one, a damn shame. You don’t even listen to
the rumors, you hear me?”
    “Oka— Wait, what rumors?”
    He waved his hand nonchalantly. “People like to
stir up trouble. Got nothing better to do than turn a tragedy into
a scandal. Maybe it helps them cope, I don’t know. But you don’t
mind them none, just do your job and I’m sure you’ll be fine
here.”
    “Oh uh, okay.”
    His face lightened up. “Now I wasn’t expecting
you until tomorrow. McDaniel something, wasn’t it?”
    Cat returned his kind smile. “Uh-huh. I’m
Catriona McDaniel. I just got into town, and I was kinda anxious to
see my new office. Is that okay?”
    The corners of his eyes crinkled again. “Of
course, dearie. You can park anywhere in the lot. Do you know where
you’re going?”
    Cat blushed. “Not really.”
    “Well, don’t fret none. That’s what I’m here
for. Now what you’re gonna wanna do is go through those doors right
there.” He pointed to a set of double steel doors. “Now those don’t
open without a key code. You have to punch in your employee number
before they’ll unlock. Did they give you your employee number
yet?”
    “Uh …” Cat fumbled through her pile of
paperwork. “Ah, here we go.”
    He nodded. “Okay, good. Punch that in the
keypad; then you’ll hear the door unlock. Follow the tunnel on
through ’til you get to a hallway. You’ll go past, oh gee, I
believe it’s four doors. They’re labeled ‘groundskeeper,’
‘maintenance’ and so on. I’m sure you know the drill.”
    He stopped. She nodded confirmation, and he
smiled.
    “Then you’ll come to the hallway. There’s a set
of elevators to the left, just before the clubhouse and player
areas. Take the elevator up to the fourth floor. That’s where
you’ll find your office.”
    “Thank you so much, Mr., uh …”
    “Oh, dearie, you can call me
Winston.”
    “Winston. Nice to meet you.”
    He hit a button in his booth and the striped
gate lifted. They exchanged a wave as she passed
through.
    The elevator doors opened with an echoing ding.
Cat gingerly stepped into the fourth floor lobby. The lights were
off and there wasn’t a single person in sight.
    Okay, kinda creepy.
    Her frazzled nerves welcomed the quiet, albeit
ominous, calm of the vacant department. She strolled down the
corridor and eyed the various cubicles and desks. Each space was
stacked with papers and decorated with photos of loving spouses,
adorable kids and happy pets. As she stepped into the back corner
of the floor, her eyes were riveted to the nameplate on the
mahogany door.
    Catriona McDaniel, Senior Reporter.
    A small smile formed on her lips, and she
brought her fingers up to the door to caress the polished
brass.
    My own office? I’ve never even had my own
cubicle before.
    Truthfully, she’d written most of her Bulldogs
articles at home in her pajamas with John Fogerty blaring in the
background, but Cat wasn’t about to turn down a corner office. Her
fingers squeezed the doorknob. Fumes of fresh paint emanated from
the beige walls. She forgot about the chemical stink and dull shade
of paint when she spotted the splendor on the right wall—a window
with a view of the field. The