Hometown Favorite: A Novel (20 page)

The judge had concurred with Franklin and Joella that they
should take the children to their home and try to establish
some level of normalcy. They would regroup after a few days
and figure out where they would go from here.

Dewayne and Rosella followed her parents back to their
home in the Hollywood Hills.

"They have no idea where they're going, do they?" Dewayne
said.

Rosella had to smile at the culture shock that awaited her
niece and nephew.

"Maybe now is the time we ought to be more intentional
with those kids"

"What are you saying?" Rosella asked.

"I don't know. What am I saying? It scares me to think about
it ... us just starting out, making our own family."

Dewayne patted Rosella's belly, and she held his hand there
for its soothing touch.

"Once I'm drafted, we'll get settled in that city, and maybe
we can get a big house. I don't know what we'd have to do
legally, but..."

Rosella reached over and touched her husband's lips with
her fingers. The man she loved never ceased to amaze her.

"We'll talk to the kids. See what they think."

The only two people in the green room not talking on cell
phones and BlackBerrys were Dewayne and Rosella. The conversants paced the room, wildly gesticulating, enveloping the
couple in a forest of bizarre creatures and technological sound.
They sat at a table for two, eating brunch from the mounds of
food provided for this elite group of college football players
and their agents for the first day of the draft. Rosella's appetite
was beginning to return, although she ate at a snail's pace, allowing time for each bite to register whether it would dissolve
into nutrition or create havoc.

Sly passed by their table as he worked his phone and poked
at Dewayne or stole a piece of fruit off his plate. Once he even
kissed the unsuspecting Rosella on her cheek, then dodged
the swipe of her fork as he continued without pause his latest
fast-talking with whatever general manager from whatever
NFL team he was conversing with at the time.

Since the combines, the discussions with agents had been
polite and short, but the interviews with representatives from
over half the teams in the league had been long and often
tedious. Dewayne wanted Rosella present at each interview,
which had been difficult to schedule, what with their final semester at school, her job, her time helping her parents with Sabrina and Bruce, and her recurring nausea. Most interviews
took place in Los Angeles, but a few were flyaways and Dewayne
had to go without her.

All morning leading up to the live broadcast of the draft from
Radio City Music Hall, All Sports Network featured interviews
and highlights of the leading contenders of those who would
be chosen by a team in the first round. Of those players, the
network had invited the top ten prospects to attend the draft
live. Dewayne and Rosella had considered all the information
and knowledge gained from the multiple team interviews, and
discussed the situation with Franklin, Joella, Cherie-and even
Sabrina and Bruce, who said to take the team that would pay
the most.

That issue was the most disturbing to Dewayne. How would
he react to the imminent offer of millions of dollars? How
would it change him? He called Cherie and asked his mother's
advice.

"I'd apply it to my debts as far as it would go," she said with
a chuckle, and then told him the same thing she said the day
she put him on the bus for Los Angeles four years ago. She
trusted his judgment, and she'd pray for him. "If you didn't
have character before money comes to you, then you won't be
able to buy character no matter how much you get."

He had no idea where he would fall in the order of the draft,
he had no idea what he might become the instant he became a
wealthy man, he had no idea how much his life might change,
but he and Rosella had finally placed the matter in God's hands
and were at peace.

Next to the oversized clock on the wall was a digital time
clock, ticking off the minutes like a rocket countdown until
the draft began. Dewayne checked his watch against the official
time. It would not be long. Each team had set up a war room back at its facilities in each city with a representative at Radio
City who would hand the name of the player to the commissioner to announce on national television when the two parties
reached an agreement.

Once the clock started, each team would have fifteen minutes
to announce its choice. During the critical opening round,
every team would contact its first choice to avoid an embarrassing and costly mistake, should that player object to playing
for that franchise.

At their island table for two, Dewayne and Rosella had remained aloof from all the preshow phone activity as players
and teams tested each other to determine the level of commitment. It all boiled down to the financial: How much would a
team invest in a player? How much would it take for a player
to become a member of an organization?

What Dewayne wanted to hear was the passion in the coach's
voice more than any astronomical monetary lure.

"So it won't come as a shock, Mr. First Pick ... that would be
me, of course ... will be asking for a forty-million-dollar fiveyear deal with a twenty-million-dollar signing bonus," Sly said,
making one of his sorties by their table between phone calls.

"Your deal ... chump change, my man," Dewayne said while
buttering his toast.

Sly shook his head, disbelief written across his face. "Maybe
you are on drugs after all"

"It's all about the endorsements. They can last longer than
your football career, and the best thing about them-they are
injury free" Dewayne took a bite of his toast.

Sly's BlackBerry started to vibrate, and he backed away from
the table before he answered the call.

The Houston Stars had been a championship favorite two
years ago, until the salary cap purge killed them. The first of this two-year rebuilding effort had put them near the bottom; this
second year the bottom was where they were. When Dewayne's
cell phone rang, he looked up at the official clock and saw that
the blinking digital lights were at zero. The draft had begun, and
he was speaking to George Gyra, the head coach of the Stars.

"Dewayne, we're on the clock, and we'd like to name you as
our first pick"

Dewayne glimpsed "Mr. First Pick" and could not help
the grin. He then reached over and took Rosella's hand. Her
strength was vital.

"Coach Gyra, I'm honored that you would name me the first
pick of the draft for this year. I'd love to play for you, sir, and
the Houston Stars. When we spoke a month ago, you impressed
me with your vision for the team and your passion:"

"I want to win, Dewayne. Don't ever doubt that. I want the
championship, and with your help we can build a winning
team. You're a difference maker, and I intend to give you every
opportunity to get into the end zone. But more important, I
want you and Rosella and your future child to feel as if you are
being welcomed by family. We want you in Houston"

Dewayne had not anticipated such an impassioned speech,
but it was enough.

"You want to live in Houston, baby?" he asked, squeezing Rosella's hand. She responded with a kiss on his hand and a beaming
countenance.

"Coach Gyra, by the official clock here in the green room,
we still have twelve minutes left and I don't want to waste your
time, so let's talk the terms of the contract"

"I don't normally handle that, Dewayne, and we've got plenty
of time for-"

"Sir, I want you to sleep well tonight. I know you're in the
war room with the staff and the GM"

"We're all here"

"Put me on speakerphone, please. Let me speak with Mr.
Thomas"

Rosella removed the dirty breakfast dishes as Dewayne
pulled some papers out of his coat pocket and spread them
on the table. He stole a look over at Sly and saw him in a heated
debate with his agent. Through the phone, Dewayne could hear
the Stars' war room becoming quieter by the second.

"Dewayne, it's Sam Thomas," the general manager said. He
waved his arm above his head to settle the last of the noise.
"We don't need to talk contract now, do we? That could take
months, and we've got less than twelve minutes"

"That's why I'm going to make it easy. What was last year's
number one contract worth?"

A staff member had the figures in front of him and handed
the numbers to Sam.

"It was a six-year deal," Thomas said. "Twenty million salary,
signing bonus ... twenty million, and with incentives it tops
out just over fifty million:"

"Every team takes a chance on a player, and I'm honored
you're taking a chance by making me the first pick" Dewayne's
voice came across the speakerphone loud and clear. "So let's take
it slow. Instead of six years, let's make it three. Instead of fifty
million in salary, let's make it ten. You pay two point five million
as a signing bonus and two point five for the next three years. If
you want to extend it, put a clause in there at your option that
after three years we can repeat the same numbers. This should
free up salary cap money to keep most of your older, more
experienced players, bring in some of the other new ones you
want, and start building the winning team everyone wants"

No one had moved while Dewayne laid out his terms. Only the GM's assistant had the presence of mind to jot down the
numbers. Everyone else had turned from the speakerphone to
gape at Sam. The room was silent.

"Mr. Thomas?"

"We're here. We're here. We're just a little confused. This is
unusual. Don't you have an agent?"

"My wife and I don't feel that's necessary at this point"

To be sure Sam Thomas heard the correct figures, he repeated
the numbers Dewayne had quoted him, and then looked at
Gyra and the other staff members for any reason not to accept
this deal. There was no dissent, only bewildered expressions.

"Dewayne, I believe we are all in agreement on the principal
terms;" Thomas said. "But it will still take some time to get
the contract ready and have you and your lawyers look it over
before it's signed"

"Just write the contract based on the wording your first pick
signed last year," Dewayne said. "Change the numbers and the
name, and we're good to go"

"We can do that" Thomas began snapping his fingers and
pointing to the lawyers to get to work.

"Sir, if it's all right with you, I'd like to walk into the studio,
shake hands with the commissioner, and hold up a Stars jersey
as soon as your rep gives him the word"

"He is about to get the word even as we speak"

Sam Thomas and Coach Gyra looked at each other, stunned
by this good fortune. It was all they could do to restrain themselves from cheering like wild fans.

Dewayne directed Rosella's attention to a monitor. The camera had zeroed in on the Stars' envoy seated at his desk, talking
on the phone, and writing on his notepad.

Dewayne covered the mouthpiece of his phone and whispered, "That's my name he's writing"

"It's done then?" Rosella asked, and Dewayne nodded his
head. He could not help but enjoy causing such consternation
back in Houston, but it was all for a good cause. He and Rosella
had planned this for some time. It was a concept that would
rumble through the sports world like constant aftershocks for
who knew how long. The best way to effect change was not
necessarily to start small.

"Mr. Thomas, I'd like to do something a bit unusual," Dewayne said.

"More unusual than the deal we've just struck?"

"Yes, sir. I'd like your permission to announce our deal on
national television"

A period of silence followed. Rosella and Dewayne watched
as the Stars' delegate stepped away from his desk and made
his way toward the podium where the commissioner waited
to receive him.

"This is a first" The general manager sounded as if he was
talking more to himself than to Dewayne.