I smile large and uncontained, my excitement too much to keep at bay. I was worried he’d say some top tier team with a Super Bowl under their belt in the last five years. Good luck getting them to sign a rookie quarterback. But this, the Kodiaks, this I can manage.
Plans are immediately thrashing through my head. Angles and odds. Trades. Numbers. Ranks. Everything I need to make this happen, but that’s the beauty of it. I’m almost dead sure that I can in fact make it happen.
“The Kodiaks it is,” I tell him confidently. “First round.”
Trey isn’t convinced. “They don’t have any first round draft picks. They gave them up last year in exchange for the eighth pick overall and they’re looking to take a tight end in the second round. If I have to sit around waiting for the third round, I might as well go home.”
“Have some faith, Trey,” I scold lightly. I pull out my phone, swiping past another missed call from Kyle to bring up my phonebook. “No, L.A. doesn’t have a first round pick, but what they do have is Duncan Walker, and Coach Allen can’t stand Duncan Walker. He thinks Duncan Walker is a showboating little shit. Don’t tell anyone I told you that. But, do you know who starts frothing at the mouth every time he hears the name Duncan Walker?”
“You’re saying Duncan Walker a lot.”
“Coach Nuesbaum in Montana. He fucking fanboys for Duncan Walker.”
“You’re still doing it.”
I turn around, punching the L button to send us back down to the lobby. “You had your interview with Coach Allen yesterday. How was it?”
“Good.”
I roll my eyes and my hand, giving him the signal to elaborate.
“Really good?” Trey responds uncertainly.
“Coach Allen went to UCLA. Did you guys talk about that?”
“Yeah, for a minute.”
“What’d you say?”
“He told me, ‘I’m a Bruin.’ and I told him, ‘Me too.’”
I stare at him blankly, waiting for him to finish. Right up until I realize that he already did. “That was it?”
“He laughed. He thought I was funny.”
“Jesus, Trey.”
“What’d you want me to do?” he demands. “Ask him what bars he hit when he was on campus? How much ass he got? He’s a hundred years old. He was probably at the school the year it was founded.”
“He’s not a hundred. He’s seventy something and he’s healthier than both of us.”
“I doubt that.”
The elevator doors open.
I walk with Trey out into the lobby, searching for Hollis. “Okay, look, I’ve gotta go talk to some people about a few things before I go to the stadium, but I’ll be there later. You’ll be okay heading over alone?”
“Yes, Mom, I can make it to school all on my own,” he replies sarcastically.
“Good. Oh, here, I almost forgot. I packed you a lunch.”
I pull my hand out of my pocket, flipping him off.
Trey grins, amusement dancing in his eyes. “My favorite.”
When Trey is gone I spot Hollis on the far side of the lobby. I cut across the room to where he’s talking to an older man in his fifties. He’s dressed well but his hair is long and a little wild. So are his eyes. His face is familiar but I can’t place him. Hollis casts me a relieved look when he sees me coming his way. He abruptly cuts his conversation short to meet me.
“Thank God,” he mumbles, taking my arm to turn me around and put distance between us and the man. “He would not shut up.”
“Who is that?”
“Berny Dawe.”
“Oh my God,” I gasp, turning my head to get a better look at him. “Are you serious? I’ve never seen him in person.”
Hollis tightens his hold on my arm. “Do not look back,” he hisses. “It’s bad enough he got ahold of me. If he gets Brad Ashford’s daughter in his grip, he’ll never let go.”
“What’d he say to you?”
“What he always says to Ashford agents. That we work for the Devil and we should jump ship to go work for him instead.”
“He should put that on a billboard. Brad would consider it free advertising.”
“It’s not funny. The poor guy used to be a legend in this business before his agency all but collapsed.”
“Thanks to my dad,” I mutter, feeling more than a little ashamed.
“It’s a cutthroat business.”
“Yeah. Hey, speaking of, I need to talk to you.”
“What about?”
“Kurtis Matthews. Is he still unhappy in Montana?”
Hollis grimaces. “Miserable. Thanks for bringing it up.”
“What if I told you I knew a way to make him and you a whole lot happier?”
“I’d ask what’s in it for you?”
“Trey Domata going first round to the Kodiaks.”
He looks at me sideways, his eyes dubious but intrigued. “I’m listening.”
“Good,” I tell him, guiding him toward the dining hall, “because I need you to get Coach Allen listening too.”
I break my plan down for Hollis as we weave through the hotel. It’s simple and sweet, an easy sell to him and his miserable client, but the trick will be convincing a coach to play along. We need Allen on our side.