He glanced up and smiled from under his salt-and-pepper mustache. “Heya, kid. Busy morning already — Pharaoh Carson got a DUI last night and swung at a cop when they charged him, so I’ve got a tornado of bullshit to deal with, which means we have a tornado of bullshit to deal with.” He sighed and ran a hand through his slate-colored hair. “I knew that kid was gonna be trouble, but I signed him anyway. Lemme teach you a lesson — always go with your gut. If you even catch a whiff that a player’s a punk, if you think he’s going to give you hell, you remember that you sign that contract in the same ink he does.”
I nodded. “Where do we start?”
“I’ve gotten a few things done, just some of the big stuff. I need you to start going through his sponsors and touch base. Let them know we’re on it and see if you can’t buy us some time. When’s your meeting with Darryl?”
“After lunch.”
“All right. Let’s hit the pavement on this before it gets any worse. Cathy’s been fielding calls from TMZ all morning, and as soon as Pharaoh gets his ass out of jail, I’ll be on the phone with him. Might even need to fly to Atlanta to deal with it in person, be there when he’s released.” He sighed, looking tired. “I tell you one thing — it’s days like today that I wish I hadn’t quit smoking.”
I chuckled. “I’ll handle the sponsors. Just let me know what you need.”
“What I need is a shot of whiskey and for that dick to have kept his cool, but what can we do but clean up the mess. All part of the job, just my least favorite part of the job.”
“Well, I’m pretty sure I can make that shot happen at some point.”
He smirked. “At least we have that.”
With that, I headed into my office and took off my bag. When I sat down at my desk and turned on my computer, my inbox filled with forwards from Jack about Pharaoh. Shit had blown up, all right. I opened our database of contacts and dug in, starting with Nike.
Working as an agent was so much more pressure than playing football. I know it seems strange to say, but football was simple, easy. The rules were clearly defined, but as an agent, everything depended on your network, your relationships. Nothing was easy or simple, it was a web that required constant mending. And my next step, the next advancement in my career, depended on landing my first contract.
But first was Pharaoh.
It was hours before I finally came up for air. Dozens of calls, dozens of talk-downs. I’d had three cups of coffee and felt jittery, but thanks to the caffeine and the standing of Jack’s good name, they were appeased, if only for the moment. Cathy had ordered us lunch, hot Philly cheesesteaks, and had delivered them with a shot. Jack’s orders, she said.
I stood at the window for a long minute after I’d finished, just breathing, trying to push the stress of the day out of my mind. And then I took my seat and called Darryl.
He answered on the second ring. “Hey, Tyler.”
“What’s up, Darryl?”
“The usual, you know how it is. School, football, sleep, repeat.”
“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.