He didn’t need to see her to know she was using the universal hand signal for “I can’t fix stupid.” He ran his hand over his face again, as if he could scrub the cobwebs from his brain. “Oh shit.”
“The Sentinel doesn’t have a wide circulation, and we are talking Wolcott men’s basketball, so not a headline grabber.”
The dismissive commentary didn’t offend him. Everyone knew the Warriors were the whipping boys of the mighty Mid-Continental Conference. Two factors allowed the school to play with the big boys—tradition and the law of averages. Wolcott’s student athletes were better known for putting up impressive grade point numbers, even if their stats lacked in athletic endeavors. As a founding member, Wolcott would have to willingly sever ties with the conference. And why would they do that when the school got a piece of the conference media pie?
“Unfortunately, one of the wire guys picked up a few of your choice comments, and word has filtered back to NSN.”
Ty imagined Greg Chambers’s fat head exploding on a live feed. He smiled, then groaned as the pull of facial muscles reminded him he still had his own aching head to contend with. Part of him couldn’t help but wonder if cranial explosion might not be a relief. Quick, maybe somewhat messy, but painless. Not such a bad end. Had to beat the slow agony he was enduring. “You got some of those cement shoes?” he asked, his voice low and raspy.
Millie laughed, and the sharp edges of her disapproval melted away in the warmth of the sound. “You didn’t say anything we haven’t all thought.”
“Yes, but I said them out loud. To a reporter. One with a growing vendetta to feed,” he added as if she didn’t already know about Jim Davenport’s bruised feelings.
“Yes, you did.”
Ty stared at the ceiling. For months now, he’d been spinning like a top. One whirling a little off-kilter. Now his life was careening out of control. He needed divine intervention. And he had it. He had Millie on his side.
“What do I need to do?”
She blew out a breath as if she’d been hanging out in the deep end, waiting for him to come to his senses. “First, you call Greg and apologize. It won’t be enough, but it’s a start. I’ll sort out the rest of that mess later,” she assured him, all brisk efficiency. “Then, we talk to the rest of the media.”
He heard the tap-tap-tap of her fingernail and knew she was typing notes one-fingered into her ever-present tablet. He wished he could see her. Seeing Millie spring into action was something to behold. She was a force of nature. One of the wonders of the world. Heaven help anyone who dared to get in her way.
“So far, all the chatter has been about Mari and Dante and the morons speculating. It’s time for us to step up and take control of the message.”
Though he knew she was right, it still pinched to agree to the plan. After all, no guy wants to be the schmuck whose wife left him for another man. A younger man. One with the future of his choosing all stretched out in front of him. How was he supposed to make getting dumped look good?
“Ty?”
Millie’s gentle prod pulled him out of his thoughts and back into the present.
And gave him the answer he needed. Millie would know how to spin this mess so he came out looking like a champion. He trusted her. Which seemed odd given what the last woman in his life had done to him. But Millie wasn’t anything like Mari. He knew that right down to his bones. The two women couldn’t have been more different.
Besides, what choice did he have? He was the one who had married a woman over a decade younger than he was. He’d ignored the dollar signs in Mari’s eyes, hauled her off to Vegas, and tied the knot before either of them could think better of the plan. Then, when his idiocy exploded in his face, he was the fool who had holed up in his monstrosity of a house swilling scotch and spilling his guts to some reporter with an ax to grind.
Millie was right, as usual. The time had come to set things straight. He’d apologize to Chambers, let the press poke and prod at him a little, then he’d head back to Nevada to get divorced not quite as quickly as he’d gotten hitched. The wait would be shorter there, and he wouldn’t have to prove anything more than irreconcilable differences. Since Mari had a kid with a multimillion-dollar contract under his belt, she was in as much of a rush as he was.
“Ty, are you still there? Snore or something if you’ve passed out.”
“I’m here.”
“You can do this. All we need is a plan.”
“A plan like what?”
“Well, you could start with a shower.”
Her suggestion was so on target it hurt. “Right. Shower. Getting up.”
“Exactly what you need to do, Ty,” she said gently. “Get up, get out, and get on with your life. I’ll help you.”
He huffed a little laugh, then gave in. “Okay,” he said into the phone. “Let’s do this thing.”
Chapter 3
Millie clicked her pen and pushed away from her desk with a decisive nod. “Excellent.” She flashed a stiff smile at her assistant as she snagged her tablet from the corner of the desk and rose. “Call the chancellor’s office and give them the update. I’m going to run by the AD’s office to get my travel lined out, drop the new press kits by the bull pen, then circle back around before I head home to pack.”
“You want me to send the releases about the coaching changes in the baseball program?” Cassie asked as she stood too.
“Yes. And I’m sending you a picture Kate sent me