Chapter Twenty-Two: A Walk on the Dark Side
“Come in, young lady, and shut the door behind you.”
Monty Ortzelberg’s low, growling voice came from the depths of a plush George Smith sofa in Rory’s office. Maddie prickled at “young lady” (was she ten years old?) and at the sight of the high-end executive suite that Rory used for five minutes every month.
Cigar smoke hovered around the Gray Sox owner, but Maddie could see that his right eye—where she had beaned him with the projectile hotdog—was bandaged and swollen. It looked worse than she imagined a hot dog injury could look. Her stomach grumbled loudly. She had not been able to eat or sleep since she had received the dreaded Monty summons yesterday. Now she felt woozy and her eyes burned from the smoke. All the apologies and arguments she wanted to make evaporated. She had no idea what she was going to say in this meeting.
Maddie took a cautious step into the room and reached for the door handle.
“No, wait!” Monty ordered. “Lampkin, you can leave us alone. Now.”
Rory, dressed in a Ralph Lauren button-down shirt and Bermuda shorts with beetles embroidered on them, couldn’t escape fast enough. “Okey doke! I’ll leave you to it, then, shall I?” He dashed out of the room without even a nod to Maddie.
Wuss, thought Maddie as she watched the poppy-colored handkerchief peeking out from his back pocket breeze past her. She knew Rory would never stand up to Monty or make an effort to support her; that wasn’t a shocker. But the speed with which he deserted her was extra weasel-y. Maddie wished she could hear Tillie’s excuse for where he had to go in such a hurry. She felt self-conscious about her own appearance. She didn’t own many nice dresses, and she rarely had time to get her clothes dry cleaned. Today she was aiming for corporate chic in a sleeveless, pleated, midi dress from Ann Taylor—excavated years ago at a Brown Elephant thrift shop in Lakeview near Wrigley Field. The dress had been as wrinkly as a real elephant when she pulled it from the back of her closet, and it had taken three passes with a steam iron to press it into shape. She added a slender Gray Sox necklace with a shamrock charm that her dad had given her for luck when she took this job. The memory gave her an emotional boost. Her dad—a die-hard Cubs fan—had gone to Sox Park himself to purchase the obviously cheap necklace. He mailed it to her in a fancy box with a funny card. Maddie held her hand over the charm and thought of her dad. If he were here, he’d say something silly to make her laugh and tell her that he loved her no matter what. She marched across the room with a fresh burst of courage, fists clenched at her side.
When she got closer to Monty, he looked younger than she expected. For some reason she thought of him as ancient, but in reality, he probably wasn’t much older than her parents. He had a stocky build, and his gray-streaked hair was slicked back from his jowly face. A pair of oversized, square-frame glasses rested on top of his head.
This was the first time she had seen a billionaire in person. He didn’t have that distinctive aura of money like Rory. He wore a checked cotton shirt and creased Polyester pants that might have come from Kohl’s. But what surprised Maddie the most was the strange look she caught in his eyes when he saw her. It might have been shock or even pain. Or maybe she imagined it, because it flickered out quickly. He had chosen a clear position of power in the room. The other chairs faced away from the couch, so Maddie was stuck standing in front of him like an accused criminal in the dock.
“If I may, sir…” Maddie fidgeted with her hands and forced herself to stop. She let her arms dangle awkwardly at her side. “I just want to say, there’s no excuse for what happened, and I’m very, very sorry. I tried to come up and apologize yesterday, but they wouldn’t let me in. Is your eye OK? If there’s anything I can do—”
“My dear,” Monty began with a creeping smile. “Your ‘sorries’ don’t mean shit! What the fuck were you thinking? What made you decide that turning the Chairman of this ball club into a fucking meme—a fucking hotdog-themed meme—that was liked by the fucking Pope was a good idea?”
“I never wanted that. Of course I didn’t,” Maddie answered. “I should’ve made sure that you were nowhere near the flying hotdogs. It was completely unintentional and I’m sorry. But I’d like to remind you, respectfully, that we set an attendance record for a single game on July Fourth, and we’re going to keep doing that. We had three local sponsors when I took this job. Now we have dozens.” She could see that Monty wasn’t in any mood to listen to her stats.
“I gave you a break after those dumb-ass rubber ducks, and this is how you repay me? By shooting wieners in my face? By the way, you can’t be blasting any shit you want at people in the stands! T-shirt cannons were made for T-shirts!”
“I didn’t have money for shirts! And the fans love the flying dogs and the jewelry toss.”
“God damn it! You don’t shoot sharp objects at people!”
“Hot dogs aren’t sharp and we wrap the jewelry.”
“Oh really? Well, I have a scratched cornea that hurts like hell, and you’re fucking fired!”
Maddie was shaken to her core, but she couldn’t give up yet. She had nothing left to lose. “I understand why you’re upset. But please, give me one more chance. I can promise some hefty profits from Sweetgum for the rest of the season. If you put that money back into the team, the sky’s the limit. Our concessions have been off the charts ever since Yacht Rock-Speed Dating Night—”
“What the holy fuck is that?” Monty asked. “Never mind, I don't want to know.”
“With all due respect, I think that I’ve earned one more strike. If I make another mistake, then I’ll resign in disgrace. I’ll say anything you want in a press release. But I love this place so much, and it’s finally starting to gel. I really love this team, and I can make you the envy of the minor leagues. I think you noticed, which is why you came to Sweetgum in the first place.”
Monty crossed his legs and puffed on his cigar, The additional smoke made Maddie’s eyes water more. She coughed and wiped her eyes. Monty offered her a clean handkerchief from his pocket. She didn’t take it.
“I am not crying! Do not think that I’m crying!” she said with an edge. She suspected that Monty was just the type of asshole who’d dismiss her as an emotionally volatile female. “I’m allergic! Those fucking cigars are gonna kill you by the way!” She waved the smoke away.
Monty chuckled and leaned back on the sofa. “All right, dear heart.” His mouth twisted into something like a smile. “All right. I’ll make you a deal. You’re not fired. Yet. You’re on probation. But I want three things in return. First, no more fuckups. Not one God damn thing! Have you got that?”
Maddie nodded furiously. “A hundred percent! Thank you. I guarantee you won’t regret this.”
“Second, I hate those Manders Matter meatballs. I want their heads on a fucking platter.”
“Huh? What do you mean exactly?” Maddie asked slowly. She felt like she had been side swiped by a Mack Truck. She would never do anything harmful to Carlton’s podcast or to Vinny and Herb. She decided to play dumb and avoid confirming his request.
“Let’s drop the bullshit. You’re a sharp cookie. We both know that. You’ve got balls—and talent—to burn. Not like that jag Rory. Do you think I believed he was responsible for anything I’ve seen around here? I’m not a moron. It’s obvious that you could eat him for lunch. Not that you, or anyone else, would want to. Look, I know what you’re capable of. You’re a fucking G in this sport.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Fuck-ing G! That’s ‘genius’ on the South Side. Jesus! Who taught you to swear? Truth is, I wanted to scare the shit out of you today, but I was never gonna fire you. You just need to learn that loyalty matters, and I want those fuckwad podcasters gone. Shut ‘em down. Now, the third point in our contract. New HR policy. I don’t want my PR staff fucking the press.”
“Excuse me?”
“Let me be clear. I saw your shenanigans with that home run on social media. Nice hit by the way. Solid. But here’s the deal. Do. Not. Fuck. Carlton. Wilde. The guy’s an agitator. He’s bad for the company, and he’s off limits. Starting now. Oh, and he’s banned from the broadcast booth, too. I don’t trust him with a microphone.”
“First, Carlton belongs in that booth. There’s no way you can deny that if you heard five minutes of his broadcast. And my personal life is private. You have no right to stop me from seeing Carlton if I want to.”
Maddie wanted to keep arguing, but she felt like the floor was sliding away and she was falling. Monty was way out of line. His last demand was unthinkable. It had been less than 48 hours since her relationship with Carlton became official, and already it was impossible to imagine life without him.
“Don’t fuck with me, kiddo,” Monty said cheerfully. “I will fucking destroy you. I’ll make sure you never work in baseball again. I know you think you’ve got Nick Fuckoff of the fucking Cubs wrapped around your little finger, but let me tell you, his days are numbered. His star power is waning fast.”
“Nick Maddox is a great man. I’m lucky to count him as my friend, and I don’t expect anything else from him.”
“That’s the kind of thinking that’ll keep you in Sweetgum. One hand washes the other, sweetheart. If I put the word out against you, no one will fuck with me. But if you’re with me, I’ll call you up to the Show so fast you’ll get whiplash. And you can trade in that golf cart for a Porsche.”
“Yeah well, I only buy used cars. Lower carbon footprint.” It wasn’t much of a verbal volley, but it was all Maddie had.
Monty guffawed and tapped his cigar ash into Rory’s Waterford crystal ash stray. “You know what? I really love the shit out of you, kiddo! I’ve been watching you for some time.” He patted the sofa next to him. “Sit down here for a minute.”
“What? Right now?”
“Yeah, sit. There’s something I want to tell you.”
Maddie’s entire body clenched. Was he hitting on her now? He was a cheap bastard, but he didn’t have a reputation for sexual harassment, thank God. She studied his body language, and gross seduction wasn’t the vibe she was picking up. She couldn’t figure out what was happening, so she perched on the edge of the couch and braced herself for anything.
“I won’t beat around the bush here. We’re both adults, right?” Monty scooted forward on the couch and opened the bottle of Woodford Reserve Double Oaked bourbon that Rory kept on his coffee table. He poured two neat shots and handed a glass to Maddie.
“I’m definitely an adult.” Maddie’s voice cracked with apprehension. She had no clue what might be coming. “But I don’t drink whiskey at nine in the morning. Thanks anyway.” She pushed the glass aside.
“There’s always a first time. This is—well, it’s a unique occasion.”
“I can’t imagine why.”
“Once upon a time, I promised your mother that we’d never have this conversation.”
Maddie was stunned. “You can’t possibly know my mother!” She had to laugh. That was the very last sentence she expected to come out of Monty Ortzelbean’s mouth.
“Why not?”
“For one thing, she’s a Cubs fan through and through. Since birth! I mean it’s in her DNA. She despises the Gray Sox. It’s like a visceral thing.”
“We met at Sox Fest.” Monty shrugged. “She was taking a walk on the wild side.”
Maddie collapsed on the couch. Her fear and tension morphed into unhinged amusement. The thought of her mother hanging out at Sox Fest was one of the funniest things she could imagine. “Oh no, no, no, no!” Maddie inhaled a long, ragged breath. “She wouldn't be caught dead there. It wouldn’t happen.”
“She was there, all right. We hit it off. Had quite a fling. She got pregnant. Before she was married. In short…” He downed the bourbon in one swift swallow. “I’m your fucking father.”
Maddie stared and blinked. Her mouth dropped open. “Are you on fucking drugs?”
Monty laughed and raised his glass to Maddie. “No, but nice comeback. I knew you had some South Sider genes in you.”
Maddie took a shaky sip of bourbon. She didn’t know what to say or think. “I’m sorry, but I don’t believe it. There’s no way. I don’t know what you’re trying to do here—”
“I’m trusting you. Being honest with you. Your mother wanted to keep this a secret. To protect you. I’ve always honored that, but it can be our secret now. Yours and mine. I didn’t expect to do this today. But when you walked in here, and I got a good look at you—Christ, you look so much like her! Knocked me for a loop. I had to say something. You deserve to know the truth, don’t you? Besides, you should start thinking about your future. Do you have any idea what I’m telling you? The whole Gray Sox franchise could be yours one day. It’s up to you. You could own it, or you could blow it. But you cannot tell anyone who you are. Or I’ll have to kill you. Well, not kill kill, but… It won’t be good.”
“I…” Maddie couldn’t funnel normal words out of the psychological train wreck inside her. She couldn’t even begin to process the concept of inheriting the Gray Sox. That was like someone telling her she came from Krypton and could fly and outrun locomotives. “I still don’t believe you. My parents are the happiest couple I know. They’re completely devoted to each other. My mom would never—”
“Like I said, she wasn’t married yet. She was going through a rough patch. You don't know what people are capable of. Including me. I can be downright charming, no matter what people might think of me. I don’t fucking care!”
Maddie shook her head. “No. I need some more proof. Tell me about her. Things that you couldn’t find out by Googling her.”
Monty’s face softened, and he looked almost dreamy. That alone gave some credence to his story, Maddie thought reluctantly.
“What do I know about Beatrice Meredith Kelly? North Sider. Nice Irish girl. A real firecracker. Graduated cum laude from Loyola Law School and did the screwiest thing possible—became a public defender. Fucking ideals, huh? No money in it, that’s for damn sure.”
“That’s not very personal.”
“Right. Give me a minute.” He took another puff on his cigar, and a slow smile crossed his face. “She has the most beautiful red hair I’ve ever seen. Masses of it. Reads constantly. Heavy-duty stuff. Big-ass Russian novels. She hates mushrooms on pizza. And coconut on anything. Her perfume was some fancy Chanel shit. Smelled fucking amazing, though. Her nickname is Cricket. She got it at Girl Scout camp. Oh, and she has this sexy dance she made up to that damned Go, Cubs, Go song—”
“OK, that’s enough!” Maddie snapped. Everything he said was a hundred percent accurate. Although she had not heard about the sexy dance and didn’t want to know about it. “This can’t be true. It’s just not possible.”
“Search your feelings, Luke. You know it to be true.”
Maddie gave Monty the death stare of all death stares.
“Oh, come on! That was too good to pass up. It felt kind of awesome, I gotta tell you.” He reached one hand out to her and clenched it in a fist like Darth Vader in The Empire Strikes Back. “Join me and we’ll rule the baseball world as father and daughter! Hell, that felt even better! The Dark Side gets a bad rap, but it’s a lot more fun at parties.” He laughed at his own joke while Maddie continued to stare at him, dumbfounded. “Hey, lighten up, kiddo! Come on now. What else can we do in this crazy world?”
“How can you sit there and make jokes? I can’t lighten up about this! You’re telling me that my entire childhood—no, my entire life—is a lie, and I’m supposed to blithely accept that and do what? Give you a hug and a Father’s Day card? I think… I’m actually losing my mind.”
“We could do a paternity test or whatever, but why would I fucking lie? I have no motivation whatsoever. Now, I know this isn’t ideal, but I’ve got a plane to catch. I’m counting on you here in Sweetgum. Great things can happen. If you stay true to me. Don’t tell me that you’re not excited by the possibilities. Go home. Get some rest. You’re gonna be fine, kiddo.”
He touched her shoulder tentatively, but she flinched and leapt off the couch. She couldn’t breathe. She had to get out of this room immediately or she would explode.
“I have to go.” She made a beeline for the door but stopped and turned around. “You say I’m your child. That would make me your only child unless there are more Sox Fest babies out there.”
“Swear to God, no! Sox Fest is usually a fucking pain in the ass.”
“And yet you’re willing to destroy me if I don’t follow your orders?”
“Sorry. You don’t get to be a billionaire by being a super nice guy. But I’m not worried about you, my dear. I see your ambition. Your passion. I know I can count on you.”
“I prefer to be called by my name. It’s Maddie. Not ‘sweetheart’ or ‘my dear’ and never ‘young lady.’ That’s incredibly sexist, and I won’t be treated like a child. Or locked out of the VIP suite again!”
“Fair enough. I respect that. Madison. Maddie…” He paused and took another couple of puffs on his cigar. “There’s one more thing.”
“Oh my God, no! What else could there possibly be?” Maddie almost shrieked.
“I don’t want you to think that I didn’t care about your mom. We didn't have much time together. She wanted someone else after all. But I knew she was one of a kind. You should know, I fucking loved her.”
That was all Maddie could take. It was a whole lot more than she could take. Her mom was someone she didn’t know. Her dad—who she adored—wasn’t her real dad. Her beloved Esme wasn’t her aunt. All of them had apparently lied to her. And her real father was the person that Carlton hated more than anyone else on the planet.
Unable to engage in primal scream therapy, which would have been her first choice, Maddie slammed the door wide open and ran as hard and fast as she could.
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