“Yeah, I know that routine.” I smiled fondly at the memory. “You ready for the game on Saturday?”
“Man, we’ve been studying plays, and Coach is pushing us hard. Owens passed out on the field yesterday, and I’ve never seen that tank hit the ground like he did.”
“Sounds about right. Wait until the Iowa game. If there’s one thing in the world Dad wants, it’s to murder the Hawkeyes on the field.”
He laughed. “I haven’t forgotten. What’s up with you? I heard about Pharaoh. What a dipshit.”
“Yeah, been a busy day over here. It’s a good lesson for you though — every single sponsorship he has is in jeopardy, and for what? A night out? He could have afforded a driver, but he took his Ferrari out and got tanked, and right now, he’s sitting in jail. One mistake. That’s all it takes to potentially lose everything.”
Darryl sighed. “I can’t imagine why he’d be so fucking stupid. I mean, I’d never put my career on the line like that.”
“I know it feels that way right now, but it’s different in the NFL. College ball is more pure in that way — it’s about the game, that’s it. But when you go pro, it’s about more than the game. It’s money, women, status. Fame. It’s a lifestyle, but you can decide how you let it affect you. Are you going to be a pro baller who blows all his money on a yacht and a penthouse? Or are you going to set yourself up for a future after your career?”
“Kinda like you did?”
“Yeah, kinda. My dad always told me there’s no such thing as a sure thing, so I never slacked off in school. I wanted a solid Plan B, even if I didn’t think I’d ever need it, and if I hadn’t, getting hurt would have been an even bigger deal. I wouldn’t have had a single prospect. That’s part of the reason I wanted to go into this field. To help players with their careers. To protect them and guide them. It’s not for the money.”
“Not that the money hurts.” I could hear him smiling on the other end of the line.
I chuckled. “No, it doesn’t hurt one bit. But I’m not trying to make money off you, not in the ways some of those other guys try to.”
“It’s crazy, man. Most everybody is smart enough not to talk about it, but I know for a fact these agents are courting some of them, hard.”
“How about you? Any other offers?” My stomach tightened, though my voice gave nothing away.
“Nothing official, you know. One even offered my mom a plane ticket home to see her family, but I told him no. I told Mom no. I’ll fly her there myself when I get a contract.”
I smiled. “Hell yeah, you will. I’ll be out there for homecoming and we can hang. I’ve gotten permission to be on the field for the game with you and Dad, and maybe we can work out on Sunday.”
“For sure, man. Good luck with Pharaoh and all that mess.”
“Thanks. Tell my pop I said he’s looking old today.”
Darryl laughed. “Right, so he’ll torture me with burpees in full pads? Psh. You’re on your own.”
“I’ll talk to you soon, man.”
“Take it easy, Tyler.”
I hung up the phone and it immediately rang. Cathy’s voice was on the other end.
“Nike’s on the phone for you, Tyler.”
I sighed. “All right. Send them through.” The phone beeped, and when I heard the connection open, I said, “This is Tyler Knight.”
“Mr. Knight, this is Adrienne Christie, senior rep at Nike. I was just returning your call regarding Pharaoh Carson. I assume you have a good excuse for your player?”
“Depends. Is ‘stupid’ a valid excuse?”
She laughed. “Not really, Mr. Knight. Nike’s not generally in the habit of sponsoring criminals who assault police officers. Unless there’s some mistaking what’s happened, the likelihood of Mr. Carson retaining his contract with us is very slim.”
Worry shot through me at the edge to her words, but I kept my cool and answered confidently, “We’ll know more soon. I’d just ask that you wait until some progress has been made to make a decision on what to do with him.”
She paused for a breath. “All right. I’d like to set up a meeting on Monday with Mr. Jones to discuss the issue. Is that enough time?”
“That’s fair. I appreciate your understanding.” Jack walked in, and I held up a finger. “Thanks, Ms. Christie.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll have my assistant get in touch to set up a time. Have a good day.” The line clicked, ending the call.
I let out a breath and hung the phone back on the cradle.
Jack leaned on the doorframe. “Ms. Christie? As in Adrienne Christie? From Nike?”
“Yeah. She’s giving us through the weekend to figure out what to do with Pharaoh.”
He smirked. “You haven’t met her, have you?”
I shook my head. “She’s not the rep I usually deal with.”
“No, she’s a senior rep, only handles the big stuff. She’s not much older than you, but she’s something else, let me tell you. Talk about a saleswoman. The woman’s a shark.” He shook his head and sighed. “Well, I’ve got to fly to Atlanta. I’m leaving in an hour so I can be there when he gets sprung. Need you to hold down the fort while I’m gone, but I should be back by Monday in time to meet Adrienne. Think you can handle it?”