“Hell no, man,” Brandon barked. Then he paused. “But I would take a bath with her.”
The guys roared and gave each other high-fives.
“Somebody’s gonna be real mad at us, man. They’re gonna send the management up any minute now,” Simba said.
“Or that guy Danny’s gonna come down here and say something. But we’re from the West Coast, man. It’s still early to us,” Leon said. “I don’t like him that much anyway. I’d rather it be just us and Mike. And the girls, of course.”
“Shhh,” Brandon whispered with his index finger to his lips. He thought he heard someone at the door, so he walked over to peer out the peephole. After spotting an older couple walking down the hallway, he turned to his guys and got back to business.
“All right, guys, if David Terry is joking about me being a manager, then he’s already thought about it. And if I ask him if we could put him on a Beast Team poster, he’s definitely gonna ask us for money. But in basketball and football, they don’t allow you to make any money while you’re in college. So, he has to get it while he can.”
“But he’s still in high school,” Simba said.
“For two more years, then he’ll be on NCAA lockdown. But if we form a bond with him now and learn what we need along the way, maybe we can represent him for real in three to four more years when he turns pro.”
Leon grinned and shook his head as if Brandon were insane. “That’s crazy, man. But what if we did do that?”
“Yeah,” Simba agreed. They could all imagine it.
“Not only that, but this kid, Jay Stewart, we could manage him right now,” Brandon said. “Skateboarders don’t have to worry about college rules. That’s why Adidas is after him instead of Terry. They don’t want to get in trouble with a high school basketball player, but they can offer a skateboarder a sneaker deal anytime they want.”
Simba shook his head. “That doesn’t seem fair, does it?”
“Yeah, but no skateboarder is gonna make twenty million dollars a year like basketball players do,” Leon argued. “And these basketball players have to grow into their bodies first. But how do you know Jay Stewart would let you manage him?”
“Because his parents like me,” Brandon commented. “And they were asking me all kinds of questions when I met them.”
Simba smiled. “I can see that. Everybody liked you this weekend.”
“Okay, so what are your plans with that?” Leon asked.
“I would advise him on what to do with endorsements for his skateboard career. I feel like a big brother to him already,” Brandon said.
“You’re telling me his parents would trust an eighteen-year-old to make decisions for their son.”
“On sneakers and sponsorships, yeah, Leon,” Brandon countered.
“He is the Sneaker King,” Simba teased.
“Sneaker Kings,” Brandon corrected him. “I couldn’t do it without you guys. You guys kept the crowd hyped this whole weekend. So without you, I would be just another guy.”
Leon nodded and gave him a pound. Simba followed.
“The Sneaker Kings. I like that,” Leon stated. “Let’s use that. But you’re really thinking about managing people now?”
Brandon paused. “I have to figure that out when we get back home.”
THE NEXT STAGE
WHEN BRANDON ARRIVED back home in Glendale and told his uncle about his management ideas, Paul asked, “You want to do what? Brandon, you’re not qualified to do anything like that.”
“I know that, so I wanted you to call up some sports managers to see if I can talk to them about it.”
They sat down at the kitchen table with plates of microwaved lasagna, corn and buttered garlic bread for dinner.
“So, what happens with the Adidas internship?” Paul asked.
“We’re still doing it.”
“And managing?”
“Well, the internship is only for the summer, right?”
“Yeah, but then you start school in New York. You’re not gonna have time to manage anyone. You’ll be busy managing your own schoolwork.”
His uncle had a point. Brandon had to stop and think about it. “Well, maybe we could be co-managers with a professional.”
Paul shook his head and took a bite of his food. “Nobody’s gonna want to do that. It’s not enough money as it is, and then they’ll have to turn around and split it with you guys? Fat chance of that happening.”
Brandon was still determined to figure something out. He chomped on his food and continued to think. “Maybe we could be brand and marketing consultants,” he suggested.
“Branding and marketing consultants? What are you talking about, Brandon? You guys are still kids.”
Brandon mumbled, “They’re kids too. We’re older than them. We’re about to go to college. You should have seen these guys following us this weekend, including people who were older than us.”
“Brandon, having people follow you is one thing, but representing them in business is something entirely different.”
“Well, if I’m gonna study business management and sports marketing at NYU, this is exactly what I’ll be doing when I get out, so why not start early?”
Paul breathed deeply. “Brandon, what you need to do is make these guys special members of your Beast Team and have it where you all make money off the things you sell from marketing.”
“But we won’t be able to do that if Jay Stewart signs with Adidas, right?” Brandon said.
“Why not? He can have several relationships.”
“But won’t Adidas say that we met him through them? Simba said that would be a conflict of interest.”
“No, managing him would be, but you wouldn’t be managing. You would have a marketing relationship. And from what you told me, Adidas basically sent you guys in there to do their dirty work. So, you guys should be fine. You won’t be selling other shoes with him, right?”
“No.”
Paul shrugged. “Well, that’s all Adidas would be worried about.”
Brandon continued to eat and map out his plans in silence.
>>>
Later that week, Brandon got together with Leon and Simba in his game room, but they weren’t there to play any games—they were there to discuss their plans for dealing with David Terry and Jay Stewart.
“Well, marketing makes a lot more sense than managing,” Leon admitted. “Then we don’t have to babysit them; we just promote what they do and make money.”
“Yeah,” Simba agreed. “Managing people is more of a headache. You have to be involved in everything.”
Brandon wasn’t as quick to give up on the idea of managing as his friends were, but he realized that it was best to move on it and see what they could do.
“So, let’s just call them up and see what they’ll agree to,” he commented. He started by calling David Terry.
Brandon paced the large, comfortable room with his cell phone as Simba and Leon watched from the sofa.
“Hey, D.T., it’s Brandon Jenkins from The Beast Team.”
“Hey, what’s up, man? So, you liked the pictures I sent you?”
“Yeah, we liked the pictures a lot. We want you to send us more now. We want like, some action shots of you dunking, shooting three-pointers or just showing off your handle. You got any pictures like that?”
“Yeah, I got plenty of them.”
“Well, send us your best, and what we’ll do is print your own posters to sell as a special Beast Team member. Then we’ll give you twenty-five percent of the profit.”
“For real? You can do that? You think people would buy posters of me? I’m still in high school.”
“Yeah, we have like, a crazy young following now, and we want to make you and Jay Stewart our first marketing clients. And you only have two years to do it before the NCAA puts you on lockdown in college.”
“Yeah, I know, right. They don’t let you do anything in college,” David complained.
“They do pump your name u
p though. So, just keep your name clean, do your homework, stay out of trouble and go get a Beast Team tattoo or something,” Brandon joked.
Leon and Simba looked at each other. They couldn’t believe Brandon had said that.
“A Beast Team tattoo? What does it look like? You have one?” David asked.
“Not yet. We can all come up with it together.”
“Nah, I don’t know about that, man. I’ll have to see. My mom doesn’t like tattoos.”
“But you’re okay with The Beast Team posters though, right?”
“If you can sell them, yeah. I’ve never heard of a high-schooler having his own posters before, except for LeBron James maybe.”
Brandon grinned. “Well, just send us your best pictures, and we’ll send you some poster samples to see which ones you like.”
“I’ll send them to you tomorrow. I’m ’bout to go to practice.”
Brandon hung up with mixed emotions. He wanted David to be more optimistic. He stopped pacing the room, and said, “Man, I don’t know about that guy.”
“Why? What did he say?” Simba asked.
“He just seems real lackadaisical. We’ll have to get him to sign a contract or something.”
“Brandon, he’s fifteen,” Leon said. “How many fifteen-year-olds do you know with poster deals?”
“I had posters at fifteen.”
“Yeah, because you’re anal. And you’ve been around a lot more basketball business than he has. Yeah, he may play the game, but you know more about the game—especially the business side of it.”
“Yeah, you do,” Simba agreed.
“Anyway, let me call up Jay now,” Brandon said. A few beats later … “Hey, it’s Brandon from The Beast Team.”
“Yeah, I got your number locked in already,” Jay said.
“That’s good. We want to lock you in as our first Beast Team skateboarder.”
“Cool.”
“The guys and I want to start marketing Beast Team posters of you to our followers, and we’ll give you twenty-five percent of the sales,” Brandon explained.
“Twenty-five percent of what you make or twenty-five percent of the poster price?” Jay asked.
The question made Brandon feel greedy. “Twenty-five percent of what we earn from it, because we have to design it, print it, ship it out and all of that stuff first,” he explained. “And that will cost us money.”
“Oh, yeah, that’s right,” said Jay.
“So, send us like, your best skateboard pictures, and we’ll let you see the samples before we print them.”
“Hey, you know Adidas is thinking about offering me a sneaker deal?”
Brandon stopped in his tracks and stood in the middle of the room. “Yeah, that’s why I gave you my ideas. So, they started talking to your parents about it already?”
“Just yesterday.”
And they didn’t even tell me, Brandon thought.
“I wouldn’t do it if I were you, unless they’d let me come up with my own ideas. Because I’ve seen what they have to offer, and their ideas aren’t good enough. It would mess up our Beast Team image.”
“They don’t like your ideas?” Jay asked.
Brandon thought fast. “I’m not the brand, you are. So they don’t have to listen to me, unless you tell them to take my ideas seriously.”
Simba and Leon grinned, catching on to what Brandon was doing. “Well, my parents wanted to talk to you about that anyway,” Jay told him. “They wanted to see how you felt about it. They know that you’ve been around a lot of professional basketball players with sneakers deals and stuff.”
Brandon looked over and smiled at his friends. “Yeah, I’ll talk to your parents about it. Definitely.”
“So I can call you back with them later on then?”
“Yeah, as soon as you’re ready. Just text me first to let me know, so I’m not out at the mall or anything. And make sure you send us your best skateboard pictures too.”
“Oh, yeah, I will.”
Brandon hung up. He felt good.
“So, he wants you to talk to his parents about the Adidas deal?” Simba assumed.
“I told you guys they liked me,” Brandon boasted. “But Adidas was gonna do that deal without even telling us.”
Leon shrugged. “They don’t have to tell us that. We’re kids to them. And they’re a major company.”
“So, that means they can do whatever they want, just because they gave us an internship? I feel like they need to give us more than that, whether we’re kids or not. They’re giving him a deal, and he doesn’t know anything about sneakers. And he’s younger than us.”
Leon nodded and fell silent. Brandon had a point.
“So, what are you gonna do?” Simba asked. He didn’t want his friend to screw up their internship. Simba was looking forward to continuing to work with Adidas over the summer.
Brandon stood there and thought about it. He shrugged. “I’ll just have to stall them until we come up with something.”
“What do you mean, stall them?” Simba asked. He stood up from the sofa, becoming more anxious by the second.
“I’m gonna tell Jay’s parents not to sign with Adidas until we figure something out. I mean, it’s just not fair. I feel like this is our deal.”
Leon shook his head. “Brandon, we didn’t know anything about this skateboard guy until Adidas told us about him.”
“Yeah, and then they brought us in to do all of the work.”
“No, you did that on your own. They didn’t know you were gonna do all of that,” Leon argued. “They just thought you would meet up with him so they could introduce themselves and the company.”
“Oh, so they can get all of the credit, right?” Brandon countered.
Simba started laughing nervously. He could see both sides of the issue. Brandon had done more than the Adidas staff expected him to, but he wasn’t set to gain anything from it. Nevertheless, Simba still wanted to keep his internship with the company.
I wonder if they’ll let me and Leon stay on if Brandon leaves, he mused. Probably not.
“So, what if they accept your ideas for the Splash and Customs skateboard shoes for Jay Stewart—then what? I mean, how much would you want for that?” Simba asked. He was thinking forward about a negotiation.
That question forced Brandon to think even deeper. He smiled. “Twenty-five percent.”
Leon laughed. “They’re not gonna give you that. More like ten percent if anything. Maybe even five percent.”
“See, that’s why I need to ask a few sports managers that my uncle knows. That’s why I need to stall them. I need more information first.”
“Now you see how difficult management would be,” Simba suggested. “You would have to think about all of these things.”
“So, you just work them all out, one by one. We’ll get the hang of it. I already have plans—Simba, you’ll be the sports attorney. Leon will be the marketing executive, and I’ll be the one who goes out and gets the million-dollar clients.”
“You mean billion-dollar clients,” Leon boasted.
“What if I don’t want to be the lawyer?” Simba complained.
Brandon looked at him and grimaced. “What are you talking about? You would be perfect as a lawyer. You’re always the one asking the most questions. I could see you going over the contracts now.”
Leon broke out laughing. He agreed with Brandon. “And you already know that I’m the marketing guy. No one’s ready to hype us up more than me.”
“Yeah, but that’s a lot of extra years of school,” Simba moaned.
Brandon shrugged. “And we would pay for it. We’re gonna make plenty of money.”
“I’m not concerned about that part,” Simba explained. “I just don’t want to be in school that long. Leon could get a marketing degree in three years. And Brandon, you probably won’t even finish school.”
“Look, as long as we all work together, we could make a lot of things happen.” Brandon didn’t bothe
r to deny the part about him not finishing school. Maybe he wouldn’t remain in school. A lot of billionaires were dropouts.
In the middle of their career discussions, Brandon’s cell phone rang. It was positioned in his hand, where Simba was able to see the caller—Natasha Avery.
“Dude, is that who it says it is?”
Brandon was caught off guard, so he quickly moved his phone away. “No. What are you talking about?”
“Your screen. Do you know what it said?”
Leon looked on curiously. “What? Who called him, Simba?”
“No one,” Brandon barked, shaking his head. But his huge smile gave him away.
“What are you trying not to tell us?” Simba accused him.
Brandon laughed. “Tell you what?”
“Yeah, tell us what?” Leon asked, confused.
“Well, are you gonna answer your phone?” Simba challenged.
Leon jumped up from the sofa to get a look at Brandon’s phone for himself, only for Brandon to back away.
“Cut it out, man. What are you doing?”
“Simba, who was calling him?” Leon demanded.
Simba looked back at Brandon, who was shaking his head fiercely.
“No, Simba, don’t tell him. You didn’t see that, man.” He was practically begging him not to tell. Simba smirked, trapped in the middle of his two friends.
“What, he got Natasha calling or something?” Leon guessed. He knew Brandon was no longer pressed about Cynthia. So who else could it be?
Brandon continued to deny it. “Nah, man, why would she be calling me? She doesn’t even have my number.”
Leon looked at both of them as if attempting to decipher a secret code. He then shrugged. “It’s no big deal. Even if she did call him, it’s only a phone call. It’s not like it means anything.”
Brandon tried his hardest not to take the bait, but his smile wouldn’t let up. That was enough for Leon to put the puzzle together.
“So, she did call you then,” he concluded. “When did you get her number? When y’all were outside that night?”
“What are you talking about?” Brandon retorted.
“All right, if it’s not her, then why didn’t you answer the phone?” Leon continued. “Who else would you be hiding from us?”
The Sneaker Kings Page 11