Hollis offers him his hand. “I will. Thank you, Coach.”
“Thank you,” I echo, shaking his hand as well.
He picks up his orange baseball hat off the table, centers it on his shining dome, and exits the dining hall without another word.
I turn to Hollis nervously. “What do you think?”
He grins. “I think you did good.”
“Do you think he’ll go for it?”
“If Matthews agrees to come to California I think Coach Allen will make it happen.”
“Do you think he wants Trey?”
“I think he’d be an idiot not to. And Coach Allen isn’t an idiot. Unfortunately, it’s not entirely up to him. The GM has the final say on all trades and Draft picks for the Kodiaks.”
My shoulders slump, my enthusiasm deflating. “Keith Wilton.”
“Yep. And that guy is an idiot.”
NFL Combine Day #3
Lucas Oil Stadium
My brain is numb. I’m exhausted, but it’s the best I’ve felt in days.
Today has been nothing but brain work for me. The psych test, the IQ test, a small break where I stood by watching the other guys bench press, then it was into interviews with media and teams. I haven’t talked to Sloane since we got out of the elevator but I see her everywhere. I stopped to watch her for a second on my way to the head after the bench press was finished, and she was commanding a conversation with four men in different team colors. Two of them were staring at her tits, but the other two were listening. They were laughing and nodding. I don’t know if she’s got the skills to get me on the Kodiaks, but she’s definitely trying. That’s more than her dad is doing for me.
I got a very impersonal e-mail from him last night, along with a basket full of shit from Subway. I guess they’re talking with him about an endorsement deal. I couldn’t eat any of it though, not while I’m here in training. I ended up giving it all to the maid to share with the hotel staff.
“You sign with him but he’s not your agent,” Reed tells me during dinner. “Not really. He comes in and shakes your hand, shows up for the pictures, and then he’s gone.”
“Is that what’s happening to you too?”
“Hell no. I made sure I signed up with the guy who’s doing the work. I got the heads up from Kenny Myers after he signed with Ashford two years ago. Same thing happened to him. Old man Ashford wined and dined him, brought him into the agency, and signed him under his name. After that Kenny pretty much never heard from him again. Not until it was time to renegotiate his contract. Hollis is the one Ashford pushed Kenny on back then, making him do all the work while he collected the commission. That’s what he’s doing to your girl now.”
“Did you know she’s his daughter?”
Reed’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “No shit? That’s cold.”
“Yeah, I’m starting to think that’s the kind of guy he is.”
“No doubt.” He shovels a forkful of salmon in his mouth, grinning. “Did I see her flip you off this morning?”
I chuckle. “Yeah. I think she was annoyed with me.”
“You didn’t fuck her, did you?”
“Nah, man, she’s my agent. I’ve gotta work with her.”
“She’s hot though.”
“Yeah, no shit.”
“And technically she’s not your agent. Old man Ashford is. You just can’t fuck him.”
“There goes my weekend.”
I finish dinner with Reed, shoot the shit with some of the other guys, and head to the lobby. The place is full of people milling around, voices rising up into the vaulted ceilings. The building used to be a train station and they left a lot of the architecture in place when they converted it to a hotel. The tall rolling ceilings, pillars made of bare steel or covered in subway tile. There’s even a set of rooms inside an old train. It’s a nice place full of rich people and heavy colognes. Piercing perfumes.
Suddenly the calm I’ve built from a day full of brain teasers is starting to wear off. The constant crowd is getting to be too much. I could go to my room where it’s quiet, but I’m not ready to go to bed yet. I need to move. I need to walk or run, something physical.
It only takes a minute to ask the receptionist how to get to the hotel gym. It takes another five to actually find it. I’m following the signs for it, heading down a long corridor, when I catch a whiff of chlorine. I follow the smell, detouring to the pool. It’s small, sitting in an open courtyard full of potted plants and trees, surrounded by chairs, but most importantly it’s empty. It’s silent.
I scan the area, checking the windows on the rooms looking down on me. No one is around. No one will see.