Джон Гришэм - Sooley

Arnie waited, took a bite, then continued, “I’ll take my four percent off the top, standard. When the endorsements start coming, and little will happen the first year or so, I’ll guide you through them and take ten percent. Again, that’s pretty standard. And I guard the money, Sooley. I could write a book about pro athletes who’ve squandered millions and left the game broke. Not my clients. I have an investment team and we work hard to protect you and your money. My clients do well on the court, off the court, and in the markets.”

Murray asked, “So you manage the money?”

“I do. My rookie players get some cash up front to adjust to the lifestyle. You’re in the NBA now and certain upgrades are expected. Wardrobe, a sports car, gifts for family and friends, a nice condo. I strongly advise against purchasing real estate until there is a long-term contract and trades look unlikely, though I can’t always control the trades. Once you’re on your feet and all properly equipped, we decide on how much you need each month. We’ll set up an allowance but it’s determined by what you want. We never lose sight of the fact that it’s your money, not mine. However, if you decide to take all of it, then you can find another agent. Again, Sooley, I protect my clients. If they decide they don’t want my protection, then I’m wasting my time.”

Sooley had lost his appetite and was nodding along.

Arnie took another bite and gave him plenty of time to ask questions. Hearing none, he continued, “The biggest problem is the entourage. You’ll attract all manner of friends, new and old, and everybody will want something. You’re lucky to have a friend like Murray.”

Sooley laughed and said, “He ain’t gettin’ nothin’.”

They shared a good laugh. Arnie said, “You’ll need him. And you’ll need his mother.”

“My mother?”

“Yes. Ida. I had a long chat with her this morning.”

“No! You gotta be kidding. Don’t tell me she called you.” Murray was shaking his head, humiliated.

“She did.”

“I’m so sorry, Arnie. So sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“She’s just butting in. I can’t believe this.”

“Relax, Murray. We had a good talk. She considers you two to be her boys and she’s just being protective.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. My mother died when I was ten years old. Be thankful she’s there.”

Murray and Sooley exchanged confused looks. “What does she want?” Sooley asked.

“Well, she asked to see the agency agreement you and I will sign. Fine with me. I’m an open book, Sooley. There are no secrets, no hidden language. She’s a lawyer and it’s a good thing for her to take a look. Any objections?”

Sooley raised both hands, palms up, and said, “Look, whatever Miss Ida wants is fine with me. I can’t say no to her.”

Murray said, “She’s tough. She’ll probably want to cut your four percent.”

Arnie laughed and said, “That’s not gonna happen. I’m sure Miss Ida and I can find plenty of common ground. I’ve been negotiating with GMs and owners and shoe companies for almost twenty years.”

Murray said, “And I’ve been negotiating with her for twenty years. Guess who usually wins.”

“Well, she did say she wants you two home in one piece. And I promised.”

Sooley asked, “Can we stay till tomorrow?”

“Sure. Got an idea. I have a sixty-foot boat, nice little rig. Let’s take it out this morning and catch some fish.”

“Awesome.”

Late Monday night, the Central players received emails from Coach Britt calling for a team meeting. By then it was no surprise he was leaving. Speculation had been rampant. Two websites did little more than track coaching changes in major college sports, and since the end of the season there had been the usual deluge of gossip about who was getting fired and who was moving up. At least ten major schools were getting new coaches.

They gathered in the locker room at 4 p.m., and the mood was somber. The seniors — Mitch Rocker, Roy Tice, and Dmitri Robbins — were invited, though they had played their last game. They had been recruited by Coach Britt and he wanted to say goodbye. And Sooley was there too, though everyone knew he wouldn’t be back.

As always, in those dreadful farewells, there was a sense of betrayal. The returning players had committed four years of their lives to the coach and his program. Suddenly, his program wasn’t good enough for them. He was moving on to bigger things and more money. On the one hand, they were happy for a coach they loved and wanted to succeed at the highest level. On the other hand, they simply wanted him to stay. As a team they had just accomplished the unthinkable and the future looked bright.

Lonnie made it as brief as possible. He said he had agreed to a four-year contract at Marquette and would be leaving town soon. He apologized for his departure, for leaving behind the guys he’d recruited, guys he loved, but such is the nature of the game. Everybody moves on; nothing remains the same.

He surprised them with the news that Jason Grinnell would be named as his successor. The players were visibly relieved to hear this. Not a word had leaked and there had been nothing online. Jason was popular with the players and had helped recruit most of them.

As his voice began to break, Lonnie thanked them for the great times they’d had together, and said he would always remember them. Then he wiped his eyes, smiled at them, and left the room in tears.

Jason Grinnell stood and took over the meeting.

Two days later, Sooley signed a contract with Arnie Savage and entered the NBA draft. Central promptly issued a statement. No one was surprised.

The contract had been combed through by Ida Walker, who wanted a few changes. Arnie’s lawyer had emailed it to her, and when she printed it and first held it she felt like she needed to wash her hands. But the more she wrestled with it the more comfortable she became. It was as straightforward as Arnie had promised. His lawyer was easy to work with. Hey, they were all on the same team and pursuing the same goals.

Sooley was slowly beginning to resent her attempts at surveillance and control. For Murray, her involvement was beyond irksome. Though he doubted he would ever have the courage to do so, he was toying with the idea of taking a gap year and working as Sooley’s assistant. His friend needed him now and his life was only going to get more complicated. And Murray was seduced by the money, the private jets, the girls, the reflected glory, the sheer excitement of living through an NBA season.

Dream on, he kept telling himself.

Classes finally ended on May 2 and Sooley barely made it to the finish line. How was a guy supposed to study when he wasn’t returning in the fall? How was a guy supposed to stay motivated and think about three more years of college followed by an eternity in grad school when he was about to make millions playing his favorite game? It was simply not possible. Nor could he be bothered studying for final exams.

The break came in the library one night when he was supposed to be preparing for a biology final but was really just killing time and staying away from his dorm room. Murray had it for a couple of hours. Reynard texted and asked how things were going. Sooley stepped outside into the cool night and called him. When Sooley said he was studying for finals, Reynard actually began laughing and couldn’t stop. Sooley indeed felt rather foolish.

“Got an idea,” Reynard said. “Instead of worrying about final exams, why don’t you ride down with me to Arnie’s place for a few days? He’s got a couple of NBA assistants in town and he thinks it would be a great benefit for you to work out with them and talk about the Combine. I’ll pick you up tomorrow.”