Authors: Cristina Grenier
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #United States, #African American, #Romance, #Contemporary, #Multicultural, #Multicultural & Interracial
The Baller's Baby
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Chapter 3: Offerings and Acquisitions
Chapter 4: Greetings and Resentment
Chapter 6: The Best Laid Plans
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2014 Monster Media LLC
Stacey Patterson sat her tall white chocolate mocha on the corner of her desk. Grabbing the new file folders in her in-box, she finally sat down. Mondays were never her best day, especially when she was getting an influx of new clients. She couldn't exactly regret it, though. Stacey climbed the corporate ladder high enough that jumping now was not only career, but financial suicide as well. Sighing, Stacey opened the first folder. Staring back at her was the smiling face of professional basketball player, Cole Winslow. He played point guard for the Crystal Bay Rockets. His average playing time was descent, but Stacey got the idea from his file that Mr. Winslow was holding back. His points per game, especially for someone who was 6'6”, were lower than normal for most national champion recruits.
Picking up the phone, Stacey dialed the number on the contact sheet. Three rings later, she heard a woman's voice on the other end of the line. “Winslow residence.”
“Good morning,” Stacey started, “May I speak with Cole Winslow, please?”
“Sure,” the woman replied dismissively. “Cole there's a woman on the line for you.”
“This is Cole.”
“Hi, this is Stacey Patterson. My office was contacted about representing you?”
“Yeah, ugh...hang on a minute,” Cole stammered. “Jackie, wait! Damn it, Jackie!” Stacey heard a pause and more frustrated cussing through the muffled cover of the receiving end.
“Mr. Winslow, if now isn't a good time-”
“No it's fine,” Cole quickly responded with a clipped tone. Rolling her eyes, Stacey waited.
“Alright, so I have your file here and I understand that you're interested in hiring my firm to manage you?" Stacey prompted.
“No, actually I'm just interested in having you manage me. I know you have other great people that work for you, but I want the best and the best is you, apparently.”
“Mr. Winslow, that's very kind, but my plate, at this point in time, is full,” Stacey pushed. “I do have some other great options for you, though.” She tried to maintain a professional attitude.
“Nope, that's okay. I'll find someone else.” Before Stacey could say anything she heard the click of the receiver and the tone that told her she'd effectively been hung up on. Gritting her teeth, Stacey returned the phone to its receiver and rubbed the bridge of her nose, right between the eyes where the remnants of yesterday's headache still lingered. She spent the rest of the day shuffling new clients around until everyone had an agent, save Cole Winslow.
Flipping through her schedule, Stacey decided that the opening in her time line for the day belonged to Cole Winslow. She hated, absolutely dreaded, calling him back. But what she hated even more was losing a job. So much so, that she had moved two of her clients onto other agents just to free up space for him. But as she dialed his number she was inwardly cursing herself.
“Winslow,” Stacey heard as she doodled on a note pad by her phone.
“Mr. Winslow, this is Stacey Patterson again,” she started. “I was able to find some space in my schedule after all. However, if I'm going to manage you, then you have some serious work to do.”
“Sure,” Cole replied in a tone that screamed, dismissive. Stacey sighed, frustrated. He was going to be trouble, wasn't he?
“Look, I can understand that you're talented and, to you, that is all that matters. However, I can promise that your opponents are working just as hard, or harder, to show you up. You need the off season to get your game together. Riding your talent won't carry you forever.”
“I appreciate your expertise Miss Patterson, but how about we both stick to what we're good at, huh? You manage my schedule and make sure I have plenty of rec time. I'll handle my game and what happens with it.”
“Okay Mr. Winslow,” Stacey gave up, tossing up her hands. “I can see that I am not going to get through to you, so I'll take care of your schedule. As of right now you're free to do whatever you want. Come the last week of October, you'll be wishing you'd put serious time in this summer perfecting your game.”
“Like I said, I'll manage my game, you just make sure there's plenty for me to do between games.”
Stacey once again heard the irritating click of Cole's phone. Gently setting hers back in the cradle, she threw her pen across the room. “Son of a bitch!” she breathed. After taking a deep breath, she gathered up her briefcase and laptop, straightened her desk, and picked up her belongings before heading out of the office. After locking the main door behind her and setting the security alarm, Stacey walked to her Mercedes-Benz, rolling her neck and shoulders as she went.
***
The last week of October came fast and furious, like it always did. Stacey had two players who were already immersed in their football careers and tonight was Cole Winslow's first game as her client. They had spoken on the phone numerous times over the last few weeks; finalizing his new contract and switching things around. His attitude towards the whole thing only made it that much more difficult. She regretted taking him on at one point during the process. She parked near the back entrance, pulling her credentials from her purse. She slung the strap around her neck, pulled her long dark hair into a pony tail and tucked it into a Crystal Bay Rockets cap. She didn't like Cole Winslow much, mainly because he was an arrogant bastard. However, he'd seen fit to send her some gear, so she'd wear it, considering she'd be scouting his first game. As an agent it was her duty to make sure he wasn't just good at his job, but would remain playable and trade-able should the need arise.
She reached the press and player entrance fifteen minutes before tip off. “You need to go around front Ma'am,” the security guard ushered, his face devoid of all emotion except serious boredom.
“I'm Cole Winslow's agent. I'd like to use this entrance if that's alright?” Stacey listened as the man radioed to his manager.
“Right this way ma'am,” the contrite looking man told her.
“Call me Stacey. We'll be seeing a lot of each other, hopefully.” With a smile, gently patting the man's huge and solid bicep, she found her way easily around the Bixby Center's main floor. She stopped by the concession, ordered a large soda, a bottle of water, popcorn, and a giant soft pretzel with spicy jalapeno cheddar dipping sauce. Climbing the stairs to the VIP lounge, Stacey showed her credentials once again and was escorted to a box seat. The job may be stressful at time, but there were definitely perks. VIP seating and a hoard of junk food was one of them.
From high up, Stacey watched as the Crystal Bay Rockets took the floor, doing their warm-up routine. The Cleveland Cavaliers had just finished theirs and Stacey was anxious to get her first look at Cole Winslow in action. Before the rockets warm-up routine was finished, Stacey realized that the VIP area wasn't really the best vantage point for studying her new client so she found her way out of the box and down near the sideline. She should have known it would be impossible to decide if Cole had any real talent from up there. Spotting his jersey, number 16, Stacey took the only open seat she found and watched.
He had great ball handling skills, Stacey thought, noting the way he controlled the familiar orange ball with the palms of his hands and dribbled with complete confidence.
Or arrogance
. During the first quarter, Stacey took notes, kept up with the score, jotted down which players scored the most points, and was pleasantly surprised to see Cole's name at the top of the list.
The first half of the game ended with Cole's Rockets in the lead by six points. Stacey stood with a few others and made her way toward the bathroom. No matter how she felt about a players potential, she never interrupted their game. She'd catch Cole when it was all said and done for the night. It wouldn't be the first time she hung around outside the locker room and it wouldn't be the last, either.
After visiting the ladies room, Stacey refilled her soda and made her way back to her seat. She wrote more notes down, things she'd seen that Cole could work on. If he was the leader she thought he could be, he'd stop to talk to the cameras afterward. When he did, she'd see how he handled the press. If there was one thing she hated, it was dealing with her players extra curricular activities, so to speak. She liked positive players who wanted to focus on honing their skills and maintaining their craft, not how many women they could pack into their apartments or how many lines of coke they could handle. She'd had enough of that making her way through the ranks while she got her MBA from Stanford. That was enough bad press to last her a lifetime. She hoped beyond hope that Cole Winslow had enough sense to live a modestly clean life.
Hearing the music key up, Stacey looked toward the tunneled area where the Rocket's would descend onto the court. In traditional Rocket fashion the mascot came out first throwing silver, gold and purple strings into the air as if they were streamers from a launch. The crowd roared around her as fans clapped and thundered in raucous excitement. Stacey wasn't positive, but she was pretty sure the man sitting directly behind her had thrown popcorn in her hair. She'd have to remember to ask Cole for court side seats if antics like that went on much longer. Loud, obnoxious people she could handle, popcorn in her hair; that was another story altogether.
The third quarter started off hot and heavy as the Rockets slammed their opponents with three pointers and dunks that took their impressive lead up another six points. Cole was on fire at the three point line and wasn't too bad at the free throw line either. His rebounding stunk, but his point ratio was excellent. He was doing so well that Stacey nearly cut the fourth quarter out and headed home. Seeing as it was his first game under contract with her though, she knew that her anal retentive personality would nag her to stay so she'd give it a rest and stay anyways.
The Rockets took a timeout just before the fourth quarter started; giving themselves an extra rest that would hopefully give them the stamina they needed to nail their opponents to the wall for the win. Stacey was ecstatic, even the referees were doing a great job tonight. Cole only had one foul against him and Stacey was sure he'd play hard in the last quarter to ensure they took home the win. When he stepped onto the floor, all egotistical confidence, Stacey felt an unease settle over her. “Please don't screw this up.” Stacey whispered to herself, as the ball was inbound to Cole. He took the ball and committed a fundamental mistake that even rookies get right. Taking a step without dribbling the ball first, an offense known as traveling, Cole turned the ball over to the other team. As Stacey smacked her forehead in frustration she heard the coach, Jerry Sturgess, yell at Cole. “Get your head in the game Winslow!” Stacey winced. A coach yelling at a player was normal; yelling at a player under her management was something that practically made Stacey vomit.
Uneasy now, Stacey took notes like a mad woman. She noted how long Cole held the ball before he passed it. How well he ran the play that was called. She analyzed his screens and picks. She analyzed the way he shot the ball, how his follow through looked and whether or not he used the backboard. She critiqued his shots for those that bounced in and those that swooshed through the net. She marked the number of times he dribbled with each shot or pass, how he handled the ball while dribbling and errors he made that were and weren't tagged by a referee. She counted six double dribbles, an error in which Cole dribbled, picked the ball up and then dribbled again without passing it to a teammate. One double dribble was bad; six was unacceptable; especially in a professional player. How could she have missed his slip-ups?
Stacey watched in near horror as Cole took the Rockets twelve point lead down to three. And just when she thought it couldn't get worse, the coach yanked him off the court, parking his inept ass on the bench. She didn't like it, but Stacey couldn't exactly disagree with Coach Sturgess, either. Cole Winslow was so wickedly talented that he thought talent alone would carry him. Stacey loved managing players. She loved it even more when the players could manage themselves some. She was supposed to be managing professionals, not rookies with potential. Stacey stayed for the last five minutes of the game, watching the Rockets continue to slide further down the hill Cole had kicked them down. The final score was 98-95 in favor of the opposing team. Feeling deflated, Stacey tossed her soda cup in the trash and trudged toward the tunnel. She was less than approachable as she stood outside the locker room.