17
“We’re sorry to have kept you waiting, Jackie.” Gerald didn’t sound sorry. He sounded amused.
Jaclyn looked up from her marketing project folder and rose from her seat at the head of the small mahogany table. Gerald always kept her waiting. Why would today be any different? That’s why she’d brought work with her into the conference room.
She fixed a smile on her face and offered it to Gerald and his guest. “I had plenty to keep me busy.”
Gerald made the introductions. “Jaclyn Jones, Carville Abbottson. Jackie, Carville. I think we can all be on a first-name basis, don’t you?”
“I don’t know why not.” Carville offered Jaclyn a firm handshake.
Jaclyn enjoyed his energy and enthusiasm. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Carville.”
The real estate investor had a hearty Southern accent to go with his golden-age-of-Hollywood good looks. His silver hair and grass green eyes would have been startling in black and white film. Just over six feet tall, he was a commanding figure in his dark green pin-striped suit.
The two men chose chairs around the conference table. Gerald frowned at Jaclyn’s location. If he’d wanted to sit at the head of the table, he should have arrived earlier.
Carville had claimed the seat to her right. “I appreciate
your taking the time to meet with me, Jackie.”
At sixty-three, the chief executive seemed as fit as someone half his age. His conditioning was a testament to the discipline that had driven him from a community college in a tiny Kentucky town to the corner office of his Las Vegas real estate investment firm. Yes, Jaclyn had done her research. She’d never stepped onto the basketball court without committing the scouting reports to memory, either.
Jaclyn closed her project folder and recapped her pen. “I don’t know how fruitful this meeting will be.”
Carville folded his hands on the table and leaned forward. “Las Vegas would welcome the Monarchs into our market.
Jaclyn noted the spark in Carville’s eyes, the leashed energy in his posture. The self-made multimillionaire was an adrenaline junky. That probably contributed to his success. “How do you know the Las Vegas market could support the Monarchs?”
Carville gave her an engaging smile. “Well, first of all, your team would be the only NBA team in the market.”
Had Gerald fed him that line or had Carville used it first? “The Monarchs have done very well sharing the New York City metropolitan market with the Knicks for fifty-five years. But will the NBA allow Las Vegas to establish a team? I thought the commissioner wanted casinos to take NBA games off their books before Las Vegas would be considered a viable location for a team.”
Carville spread his hands. “We’re going to petition the commissioner to consider Las Vegas as a host expansion city. I feel confident we have a good shot at it.” He shrugged. “And being an inaugural team in Las Vegas would be a great draw for your Monarchs. I know you’ve struggled to make book, and your profits aren’t what they used to be.”
Jaclyn gave Gerald a brief glance. How much of their finances had he shared with the investor? “That has more to do with mismanagement on our part than the market. During my grandfather’s illness and after his death, I didn’t pay attention to the team as I should have. I’m correcting my oversight now.”
Carville’s eyes darkened with sympathy. “I understand.”
Gerald interrupted. “But in Vegas, there wouldn’t be another team to lure our fans away.”
Carville’s laughter was deep and full. “Gerry’s right. Vegas is the entertainment capital of the world. In addition to the almost two million people in our metro area, you’re going to be pulling Vegas vacationers into the games.”
Carville Abbottson was smart, charming and exciting. Jaclyn liked him—and wanted him to leave. She wasn’t going to change her mind about keeping the team in Brooklyn. Still, she wouldn’t direct her impatience at Carville. Her target was Gerald. She glanced at her partner again. With very little prompting, she’d gladly poke him in the eyes.
She leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs. She adjusted the material of her teal skirt over her knee. “Where would the team play?”
Carville inclined his head. “You’re asking about the arena.”
Jaclyn was gratified that the investor didn’t pretend not to understand her question. He really was a likeable person. “How are you going to finance it?”
Carville folded his hands again. “We’re hoping to put a measure on the May ballot for a levy.”
Jaclyn blinked. “You’re asking for taxpayer funding?”
Carville nodded. “Bringing a pro team to Las Vegas will improve the city’s standing. The arena will bring jobs to the area. We’re going to ask residents to help us make this possible.”
Jaclyn frowned at Gerald. “Did you know about this?”