I looked at the appointment notes and grinned. I'd be able to get a real financial story for my pages by interviewing someone from GMS, and at the same time I'd have the chance to milk them for a connection to Masterson. It was like getting two stories for the price of one.
* * *
My interview with Brett Jonas went smooth as can be. I got all kinds of information about their business, how they got started, and what they had done to grow into such a successful corporation. Masterson's investment had been a big part of their growth; he had dumped millions into the company with the money he'd made playing football, and they had used that money to expand the company and grow to new heights. It hadn't been tough to get Brett talking about Masterson and his role as an investor. Towards the end of the interview, I subtly slipped in the question that had been my real reason for coming here.
“So I know Hal Masterson is a big football star and all, but you say he's still involved with the company?”
“Yes,” Brett said. She was a pleasant woman, with long brown hair and a bit of baby fat still showing around her cheeks. “He's one of our primary shareholders. He doesn't get directly involved in things, of course. But he still has votes at shareholder meetings.”
“Do you think he'd be interested in speaking with me?” I asked, trying to keep myself from smiling too much and giving away my little game. “What with his sports fame and all, a few quotes from him about your company could be a nice way to draw in more readers. Make sure the story gets the attention it deserves.”
“Oh, that sounds like a great idea!” Brett said.
We chatted a bit longer, and Brett promised to contact Masterson personally and ask him to do the interview. I gave her my card and she told me she'd give Hal my number.
Now all I had to do was wait.
A few days later, Hal called me. As soon as I answered the phone, I could tell this guy was too full of himself.
“So,” he said after we made our greetings, “Brett tells me you'd like to do a story about me?”
“Actually,” I said, “the story is about Jonas GMS. But I think your input would be invaluable, considering your history of involvement with the company.” That was a lie, of course. I needed the interview with Hal himself in order to satisfy my editor. But I figured it would be easier to get the information I needed if I played it cool and pretended that Hal wasn't my real goal.
“Ahh,” he said. “Well, that's nice. Brett's a good friend. We were almost a little more than friends, if you know what I mean.”
I rolled my eyes, glad he couldn't see the disgusted look on my face. He was probably the sort of man who always had women fawning all over him. He no doubt thought he was God's gift and that he could get any woman he wanted. Not that I expected him to be interested in a girl like me. He probably dated supermodels. I was a big girl, and while I was comfortable with my weight and confident that I could be both big and sexy at the same time, I knew that some superficial types of men couldn't see past a girl's waistline and realize what a catch she was. My ex certainly hadn't been able to.
“Is this something we can do over the phone?” Hal asked.
“Actually, I'd prefer to meet in person.” Meeting in person meant I could corner Hal into answering whatever questions I needed without him being able to simply hang up on me. And I wasn't planning on being nice in my interview or catering to his stardom.
“Maybe we can do it over dinner?” he offered. “I know a quiet place where we can meet. Nice and private.”
I rolled my eyes. Was this guy really trying to turn our interview into a date?
“I'd prefer a more professional setting,” I told him.
“All right,” he said. “We're playing in Philly next week. We can meet at the hotel, in one of the conference rooms. How's that sound?”
“That sounds perfect.”
We ironed out the details and arranged a time to meet. I'd have the next week to keep digging up whatever I could on Hal Masterson. If there had ever been any dirty dealings or insider trading going on in his past, I planned to find out about it. I doubted that a football player could have become a billionaire without breaking some kind of rules, and if there was any kind of scandal to be uncovered, it would make this story more worthwhile. I just had to do my homework and dig up whatever dirt I could find.
* * *
I arrived at the hotel bundled up in the heaviest coat I owned, a thick scarf wrapped around my face. The snow had started early that morning, and the roads were already slick by the time I pulled into the parking garage. I was hoping that the bridges wouldn't be closed before I finished with the interview. If they closed both the Ben Franklin and the Walt Whitman, I'd be stuck in the city overnight.