Tim Green: The Big Time

A security guard in a yellow Windbreaker hollered and headed their way. Troy's dad wore a trim double-breasted suit with a shiny blue tie. His hair had been styled with gel, and on one of his wrists he wore a slim gold watch that glittered with diamonds. He looked slick.

"Sir," the security guard said, "I'm sorry but-"

"Relax," Troy's dad said smoothly. "I'm with G Money. I'm his lawyer. This is my son, the football genius everyone's talking about. His mom's the PR director. We're good."

The security guard looked at G Money's smile and blinked at the shiny gold grille on his teeth. He nodded his head and backed away.

"Dad, she's not the PR director," Troy said under his breath.

His dad waved a hand as if he were shooing flies and said, "Your buddies from last night, right? Kids, this is G Money. I'm his personal lawyer. I do all his deals, right, G?"

"You're my homey, Drew," G said, bumping fists. "And I heard about you, little man, helping my team. I grew up about three blocks from this stadium. Love the Falcons, so you rock."

Troy bumped fists with the famous rapper, using his left hand because of his hurt finger. Jimmy Cribbs, the team photographer, appeared from nowhere and said, "Mr. Money, how about a picture with you and Troy? A music genius and a football genius, both huge Falcons fans."

"You got it," G said, slinging his arm around Troy.

Troy's dad got into the picture on the other side of G, winked at Troy, and gave him a thumbs-up. Troy beamed with pride as the camera flashed, and he asked if his friends could get in a picture as well.

"For sure," Troy's dad said. "G loves kids, don't you, G."

"You the man, Drew," G said.

Drew put his arm around Troy and steered him off to the side a bit so he could speak privately into Troy's ear. "You hear that? See, I do everything important for him-his contracts, his investments, all his deals. When you're big-time like G, there are about a billion people coming at you from about a million different directions. It's not easy, believe me."

"So you're, like, his agent?" Troy asked.

"Agent?" Drew said, touching fingertips to his chest. "Don't insult me."

"Sorry," Troy said.

His dad laughed, mussed Troy's hair, and said, "Agents are cheese balls, salesmen. I told you, G's big-time. The big-time people all have lawyers. That's me."

"Wow," Troy said, feeling silly after the word got loose. "Last night, it sounded like you wanted to see me."

"I do," Drew said. "I'm your father."

Troy's whole body tingled at the sound of the word.

"I probably shouldn't be telling you this," Troy said, glancing around to make sure no one could hear. "You have to sue her."

"What?" his father asked.

"Sue her," Troy said in an urgent whisper. "A lawsuit. If you do, she'll let me see you."

"That's what she said?" his father asked with a look of disbelief.

"She wants you to prove you're serious," Troy said, "but I know you are. I know because you're here . You came to see me, right?"

"Of course," his dad said, showing Troy his empty palms. "G's got the keys to the city, but I was the one who pushed him to come here today because I knew he could get us passes. But tell me, why did you ask about agents? I'm curious."

Pride bubbled up in Troy's chest. "I've got agents who want to represent me ."

"Agents?" his dad said. "For what?"

Troy's smile faltered. "Well-didn't you hear? This football genius thing. They say I could get-I don't know-millions for it."

"Millions?" his father said, rubbing his chin. "I don't know about that."

Troy glanced around, lowered his voice, and said, "The Falcons are paying me ten thousand a week right now."

"That's great," his father said, but with enthusiasm that was obviously forced. "Good for you, Troy. I bet you pay your share of the grocery bills with that."

"I want to buy my mom a car," Troy said, frustrated, "and one day a house in Cotton Wood."

"Cotton Wood?" his dad said, chuckling. "In G's neighborhood?"

"Well," Troy said, "one day. Yes."

"Uh," his dad said, looking past Troy and angling his head, "speaking of your mother? Here she comes."

"I TOLD YOU," TROY'Smom said to Drew, her face pinched with anger.

"Hey," Drew said, raising his hands in mock surrender, "I'm just here with my client. Troy and his buddies wanted some pictures."

"Your client ?" Troy's mom said, looking around and seeing G Money signing the back of Nathan's hand with a permanent marker. "That guy?"

"That 'guy' has four platinum records," Drew said, "and he made about twenty million dollars last year."

"That doesn't impress me," Troy's mom said, her mouth a flat line. "You don't have a pass for this area. Either of you. You'll have to step back outside the yellow line. You and Jiminy, or whoever he is."

"G Money," Drew said with a smirk. "The kids know who he is."

"The kids aren't in charge here," Troy's mom said. "I am."

"You want to put me in handcuffs?" his dad said with nasty sarcasm, holding out his wrists. "Even though G and I are guests of the mayor?"

Troy felt like a fly jiggling in a web built by two spiders as they traded angry words.

"Well, that's good news about the mayor," Troy's mom said, signaling one of the security guards. "At least we know that the paper's charges of corruption probably aren't completely unfounded. But now it's time to do what you do best, Drew…leave."

"You got it, Tessa," his dad said. "You're right. You're in charge. For now."

Troy's mom nodded and raised the rope. Drew and G Money ducked back outside it. The big man waited for them like a mountain, only his dark eyes following the action.

Once Troy's dad stood on the other side, he said, "I hate to do this, Tessa, but you're leaving me no choice."

Troy's mom asked, "No choice for what?"

"IF YOU DON'T WORKwith me here, I'm going to have to sue you," Drew said. "For partial custody of Troy. I think a boy needs a dad. I don't know about the laws here in Georgia, but, believe me, I'm going to look into it, and you can expect to hear from my lawyer."

"I thought you were a lawyer," Troy's mom said with a smirk of her own.

"Any lawyer who represents himself has a fool for a client," Drew said. "Haven't you heard that saying, Tessa? Well, I'm no fool. Far from it."

Troy's father gave him a secret wink, then took a business card from his wallet and clamped it between two fingers like a cigarette before extending it to Troy.

"In case he needs to get in touch with me," Drew said, raising an eyebrow at Troy's mom, "and you decide you'd like to settle this in a nice way. I'm in town until tomorrow night, and I'd like to take Troy out to lunch or Six Flags or something before I go. That okay with you, Tessa?"

Troy reached hesitantly for the card, looking at her. "Mom?"

His mom clenched her teeth, her eyes darting between them.

"You said," Troy said to her in a low voice.

A thin stream of air escaped between her teeth before she said, "Not now, Troy. You've got school. I have to think. I'll take the card."

Before Troy could protest, his mom snatched the card from Drew and said, "Okay, Troy. You've got things to do, right?"

Troy scowled at his mom as she steered him back toward the center of the bench area, where, in fact, Coach Mora was looking for him. As they went, Troy glanced over his shoulder. Nathan was still talking to G from inside the yellow rope, and Tate stood beside him. Troy's dad motioned to Troy, jacked up his eyebrows, and pointed with quick, stabbing motions at Tate. Before Tate could do anything about it, Drew reached over the rope, took her hand, and slapped another one of his business cards into it before closing her fingers around it and propelling her gently toward Troy.