Page 13 of On Merit Alone
Ryan F. Carmen always had a busy day. And he always talked to me like he was one moment away from giving me a smack on the back of my head. I never had to worry that he would treat me differently because of the recognition my name and likeness gained. The tone he took with me, just like with everyone else, closely resembled the one you would give the gum on the bottom of your shoe.
He was one of the most coveted sports agents in the city, the region, maybe in all of North America. Cutthroat in the deals he negotiated, crazy in the risks he took, and infamous for his curt and dry delivery in the conversation department. Speculations were thathe was the heir to some insane foreign business conglomerate, so he didn’t care about what people thought of him because he didn’t have to.
I stopped being surprised by the frank way he spoke years ago. I took comfort in the fact that I knew he meant exactly what he said. Which is why, as he held up a hand to halt me just before we stepped into the office of the Defenders General Manager, Chip Norris, I complied. There was a question in his sharp brown eyes, and I was determined to meet him with the same honesty.
I knew what he was going to say before he even said it. The fact still didn’t stop the slice of anxiety that cut through me as he said, “You didn't answer me before. What’s your decision?”
“I don’t know, Ry,” I breathed truthfully.
“You’ve had six months to figure it out, Ira. What am I supposed to tell them?” he grumbled, tone sharp and quite irritated.
I smiled. “I’m sure something will come to mind.”
He cut me a glance that could slice granite but leaned forward and opened the door for me anyway. “Get the hell in there, King. I have ten minutes.”
“You’ve waited as long as you can, Ira. We need a decision,” Chip said from the other side of his fancy desk. He wasn’t sitting. Instead, he was pacing.
Ryan, who was sitting comfortably in the leather office chair beside mine with his ankle crossed over his knee, said, “Wrong. He has plenty of time.”
Chip blew out a breath as he cut an annoyed glance at Ryan. You couldn’t get any technicalities past him, and all the executive types like Chip hated him for it. Placing his hands on his hips, he turned to face us. “What I mean is, you’ve waited as long asDenverwill allow. We need a decision, Ira. What are you going to do?”
I gave Ryan a look. Our conversation before had been brief—like two sentences brief. But I was clear that I still hadn’t made a decision. And though Ryan would tell me to shape up and get my shit together in private, he wouldn’t do it in front of others. He wouldn’t let anyone mistake him for not having my back, not having control.
Meeting my glance from the corner of his eye, Ryan gave me three seconds of opportunity to change my mind. The simple shake of my head was all the answer he needed. I needed more time, and Ryan would get it for me. He opened his mouth to do just that when a voice from behind us cut in.
“Iraaaa,” he drew out the sound of my name annoyingly. “What even is there to think about, man? Is there ever a question when it comes to a multimillion-dollar contract?”
My eyes shut momentarily of their own accord. They tended to do that whenever my manager, Tony, spoke. My brain needed an extra second to ready itself for his nonsense. I usually did so cordially and with as much grace as you can give a guy who once tried to book me for an erectile dysfunction ad solely because of the payout they were willing to cough up.
Ryan, however, gave no such grace.
“Antonio,” he said in a murmur that was deceptively soft. I could tell by the tick in his eye he was actually irritated. “What did I tell you about speaking when I’m in the room?”
I curled my lips into my mouth to hide my smile. I would not mess this up by laughing. I, too, wanted to know what he told him.
When he was met with guilty silence, Ryan went on. “Ihandle the contracts, andyouhandle the infomercial deals. And right now we’re negotiating a what?”
“Contract—” Tony started dejectedly under his breath.
“Contract, exactly,” Ryan finished. “So please, for the love of Christ, just sit down,shut up, and let me do my job.”
Tony grumbled but shrank noticeably in his seat. People tendedto listen to Ryan when he spoke anyway—but I assumed Tony listened to him specifically because, demoralizations and all, Ryan brought in the money.
When Ryan first started with me, he’d done it all, managing everything from the smallest meetings to large contract negotiations like this one. But sooner than we thought, I got big, Ryan also getting big at the same time, so we both decided it would be better if we split the load.
Insert Antonio Blagario.
Tony negotiated smaller deals like short-term brand ads, public appearances, interviews, and that sort of stuff. Things that had to do with the glitz and glam of the industry. On top of handling my official NBA contracts, Ryan also took care of larger-scale contracts like long-term brand collaborations, sponsorships, and endorsements. Tony was lucky enough to be riding the coattails of Ryan’s clientele, as I’m not the only client he had to cut down involvement with to keep up with demand. Which is why I suspected when Ryan said‘jump’,Tony begrudgingly said,‘how high’.
Unfortunately, Tony’s ideocracy had already tainted the conversation, tipping Chip off and causing him to look at me curiously. Chip took the first pause in his pacing since I’d walked into the room. “Whatdoyou want to do, King, if it’s not another season of basketball?”
I sighed. I wasn't lying when I told Ryan I didn’t know what I wanted. I was wholly uncertain if I wanted to continue playing in the league after fourteen good years of my dream career or if I wanted to go out and chase this feeling of longing that had been nagging me lately. The same went for what I would pursue after the league if I did decide that this was it. I had no idea. All I had to go off of was a feeling.
I glanced up at Chip before quickly blinking away. “I’m not sure.”
“What do you mean you're not sure?”
“I mean, I don’t know,” I said, slightly more frustrated. “With the season going on and me constantly playing basketball, I haven’t had a chance to think of what my life would look likewithoutbasketball, okay?”
