Page 30 of One Sweet Lie

We all applauded as the salt-and-pepper-haired man moved to the small stage.

“I’m going to cut straight to the chase and tell you exactly how you can go from 0-82 to the playoffs, with a rabid and excited fanbase to boot!” he spoke confidently. “You don’t need to spend millions on firms like mine or worry about advertisers.”

I leaned in closer.

“All of that is nonsense and playing by someone else’s game,” he said. “All the Brooklyn Jets need to do is get rid of the ghosts.”

“The what?” I asked.

“Theghosts,” he said, putting a front page ‘Cursed Arena’ article on the big screen. “Your team iscursed.”

“Please tell me we didn’t cut you a check for this yet.”

“Shhhh!” He stood up and shut the door. Then he walked behind the table and closed all the blinds. “We have to be very quiet so they won’t hear us talking about them.”

Denise shot me a look, and I shook my head.

“Years ago, long before you ever bought this team—” He wiggled his fingers like he was telling us a campfire story— “An entire construction crew vanished in the basement. They were never found, never accounted for, and rumor has it that the scribbled words in the basement, ‘You’ll never win until you pay our families’ was written right before they died.”

“There are no police reports of this ever happening, Mr. Gantz.” My patience was wearing thin. “If this is all an opening joke for your real presentation, please get to the punchline.”

“I’m willing to conduct a one-week removal ritual in your building for a discounted price,” he said. “Thousands of businesses can vouch for my No-More-Ghosts guarantee.”

“You can leave now Mr. Gantz.” I hit the lights. “Take the ghosts with you, please.”

“Don’t deny their existence, sir,” he said. “Ghosts don’t like that.”

I waited for him to leave the room and put my head in my hands.

It was only eight in the morning,andI was tempted to join the fans outside and boo the hell out of this team, too…

“The second consultantis ready for us, Pierce.” Denise poked her head through my door later that afternoon. “Are you printing notes?”

“I’m looking for a loophole in my purchasing contract,” I said. “I think I may need to sell this team after all.”

“Funny. I’ll save you a seat.”

“Mr. Dawson?” My secretary stepped into the room next. “You have an emergency call on line three.”

“If it’s not about one of my properties being on fire, I don’t care.”

“It’s Olivia.”

“Send it to my cell phone now.”

“Yes, sir.”

Within seconds, my phone vibrated against the desk.

“What’s wrong, Olivia?’ I answered.

“The new nanny forgot to pick me up from school.”

“What?”

“I can’t reach her,” she said. “I’ve been waiting outside for an hour.”

I knew I should’ve hired the one-eyed cat lady.

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