“Anyway, we could build a great business together for years,” Brandon said, changing the subject.
“And you would marry Natasha Avery and give us all pretty nieces and handsome nephews,” Leon quipped.
That got under Brandon’s tough shell, and he broke into giggles.
Simba laughed hard himself, giving their secret away. Leon was certain of it now.
“Look at him, man. She done turned him into a Nickelodeon show,” he teased. “Snap out of it, Brandon. Snap out of it.”
There was no way Brandon would call Natasha back while his friends were still there to clown him. Later, he thought, when these guys aren’t around.
>>>
Brandon spoke to the Stewart family that evening and let them know all of his inhibitions about Jay signing a shoe deal with Adidas without any design guarantees. The Stewarts went on to express that they would love for Brandon to be a part of their son’s marketing and shoe ideas, and they discussed a package deal with Brandon too. He wanted it.
“Well, I would like to do that, but I have no idea what Adidas would say about it,” he said.
“Well, maybe we could work something out with them,” Jay’s mother suggested.
“I hope so. But if you don’t feel comfortable with what they come up with, I would just wait it out. Because once you sign with them, they don’t have to do anything that they don’t agree to,” Brandon advised. “I’ve been around that a lot with professional athletes. You have to pretty much get what you want before you agree to sign anything.”
“Thank you. You’re very knowledgeable for a young man.”
“Yeah, I just happened to grow up in it because of my uncle.”
“Well, I know your uncle’s sure proud of you.”
Once he finished his call—with his friends no longer around to badger him—Brandon finally called Natasha.
“Hey, what were you up to earlier?” she asked.
“Business meetings and conversations.”
“Look at you. Aren’t you the most interesting man in the world,” Natasha teased.
“You like those commercials?” Brandon asked of the gray-haired man pushing international beer.
“I think the old guy is interesting, yeah.”
“You think everyone’s interesting,” he teased.
“Is there something wrong with that?”
“No, not really. But we were actually meeting about marketing new skateboard posters featuring Jay Stewart today. What do you think about that?”
Brandon had ulterior motives; he wanted to find out as much as he could about conversations her father may have had with Daniel Baker about Jay Stewart’s sneaker deal. But Natasha paused before going there.
“You know what? I’ve seen a lot from you with sneakers and going after what you want in business and all of that, but who is Brandon Jenkins when the sneakers, hat and Beast Team T-shirts are off? That’s what I want to know.”
Brandon wasn’t expecting that. Natasha sounded calm too, as if she were relaxing in a bubble bath.
“Actually, I’m sitting up in my den with no sneakers, no hat and no Beast Team T-shirt on right now. That’s like, every day. But so far, you’ve only seen me in work mode.”
“Well, in Florida, you need to bring some swim trunks and a beach towel,” she hinted.
Brandon laughed in surprise.
“Is that right? And what are you gonna wear?”
“You’ll see.”
That left him speechless. He had visions of Natasha in a bikini down in Florida and didn’t know what to say. “Wow,” he uttered.
Natasha giggled. “So, tell me about yourself. Who are you?”
Brandon paused. “I’m Brandon. Who do you think I am?”
Natasha failed to laugh. “Okay. And?”
It was an awkward moment for him. He didn’t know where to begin. A girl had never asked him to define himself before.
“I mean … I’m originally from Minnesota. I’ve never really been around my dad much. I moved down to Arizona with my mom when I was seven. Then I moved in with my uncle when I was around twelve. And I’ve traveled around the country a lot and gone to a lot of basketball games and concerts. And, you know, I love sneakers.”
Natasha laughed—she couldn’t help herself. He had to come back to those sneakers.
Brandon asked, “What about you? Tell me about yourself. Who are you?”
“I’m Natasha Anastasia Avery from Newport News, Virginia. I was born in Berlin, Germany, to my Russian mom, Nicola Patromov, and my American father, Michael Avery. I’m nineteen years old and a marketing major at Seton Hall University. I’m an only child who loves nature and all things outdoors. I’m very loyal to my friends and family. I speak some Russian and some Spanish. I’m not superficial or into material things. I don’t judge people or stereotype them—I take them for who they are. And I’m a very sweet person by nature, but I’m not a pushover. So I will fight you if you make me.”
Brandon laughed and thought about all the fights his mother had been in with men. Fighting seemed to be in her bloodline.
“So, you’ve been in a few fights before, huh?” Brandon asked Natasha. “I can’t even see you fighting anyone.” Then he thought about how fiercely she had responded to Leon in Columbus. “Then again, you did seem ready to fight Leon that day.”
“No, he’s cool. He just has to learn when to shut his mouth. But he’ll learn.”
“Yeah, I think he learned already,” Brandon joked. “At least with you.”
“But yeah, I used to have girls who would pick on me all the time because I was biracial,” Natasha explained. “And I got it from both sides too. When I went to predominantly white schools, I had to fight white girls. And when I went to predominantly black schools, I had to fight black girls. But I never held any grudges. I just let them know that I wasn’t gonna be pushed around. I think I get that from my mom. She’s pretty tough and not afraid of anyone.”
“Yeah, I heard she was an Olympic track star. Can you run track?”
“Can I? I was all-state in the four-hundred-meter hurdles and was offered a full scholarship to Seton Hall. But I took an academic scholarship instead. By my senior year of high school, I was kind of burned out from track. But I still think about it. I have three years left of eligibility, so who knows—I may join the team one day. But I make sure that no one pushes me into it, you know.”
“And you never had any brothers and sisters? I’m an only child and so is Simba,” Brandon commented. “Well, Simba has half-brothers and sisters from his father’s side though.”
Natasha sighed. “Yeah, we don’t really talk about it, but my mom lost a second child in a miscarriage. She was still working out for track and took a bad fall.”
“Whoa. I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Yeah, it’s all right. But then we adopted a three-year-old girl who ended up having some real mental and emotional issues. And by the time she turned six, it was just too much for my parents to handle. So they decided to give her up. I still feel guilty about that, you know. I always ask myself if they gave up on her too soon. I was around ten or eleven by then. But it’s hard raising children.”
“Tell me about it. I had my fallouts with my own mom,” Brandon commented. “But she’s always been um, I guess you could say ‘self-absorbed.’ It was never about me—it was always about her. That’s probably why I protect the things that I have so much.”
“You mean your sneakers?”
“Yeah, I guess. They gave me something to hold on to.”
“Awww. So, they’re like your little blankie.”
Brandon chuckled. “I’m not Linus from The Peanuts. I mean, I don’t need to have them.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
“But you do need to have someone, right?”
Brandon paused. It was the right question. “Yeah,” he admitted. “Everybody does, right?”
“Okay, I’m just making sure,
because there’s a lot more out here than just sneakers. Take it from a girl who’s been around sneakers all of her life.”
“Yeah, I can imagine,” Brandon agreed. Her father had worked for athletic shoe companies before she was even born.
Natasha joked. “Who knows? You might want a girlfriend one day instead of a pair of sneakers.”
Brandon grinned. “I’m not that bad.”
“I’m just saying. All of your sneakers could make a girl feel jealous and alienated,” Natasha hinted.
“Nah, that would be crazy. But think of it this way: When I really like a girl, I really like her.”
That made Natasha serious. “But then again, you could like a lot of different girls, with different styles, colors, heights and all that stuff,” she said.
“Nah, I don’t need all of that. It’s just one beautiful girl for me. And she can wear all the different kinds of shoes that she wants, just like me.”
“Okay, but why does she have to be all beautiful?” Natasha quizzed.
“Why can’t she be beautiful?” Brandon countered. “Is something wrong with that? I want a girl who’s beautiful inside and out … like a great pair of sneakers.”
Natasha laughed. “There you go with that again.”
“You started it, with styles and colors and stuff. I know what you were getting at.”
“Anyway, so your one girl would be beautiful inside and out and what else?”
Brandon paused, reflecting on their first meeting in Raleigh inside the Waffle House. He smiled and said, “She would be perfect. She’s always perfect.”
Natasha stopped and laughed, recognizing her boast to her father. “You did not just say that,” she retorted.
“Yes, I did.”
“So, you were listening to me?”
“Every word,” Brandon admitted. “I even saw you inside the J. Cole concert.”
“Yeah, I know that part, but … I didn’t know you were paying attention to everything I said. I was just talking smack to my dad. You weren’t supposed to take that seriously.”
“Yeah, but I did.”
“So, you probably thought I was stuck-up then.”
“No, I thought you were perfect. I believed you.”
“I’m not perfect, Brandon. That’s so embarrassing that you remember that. Oh, my God. I have to watch what I say around people.”
“Whatever. I still remember it. It wasn’t embarrassing at all. I liked it.”
Natasha went silent. She had to think real hard about what she wanted to say. “So … am I that one pair of fly kicks in the sneaker store now?”
Brandon laughed hard.
“I can’t help it. It’s such a great analogy,” Natasha said.
“Okay, well, to answer your question, there’s not even another pair of shoes in the store,” Brandon told her. “You’re the only pair I want. So, I’m saving up to get you.”
Natasha was speechless. Brandon didn’t realize how strong his statements were.
“Watch out,” she said after she recovered. “You might just get what you want. Then what?”
Brandon’s heart nearly jumped out of his chest. Suddenly, he understood how serious the conversation was. But instead of getting nervous and saying something foolish, he kept it all in perspective. “Then my search is over. And I would wear that one pair for life.”
MOMENTUM
BY THE WEEKEND, the Adidas reps had come up with a plan to compensate Brandon and his Beast Team for their part in attracting Jay Stewart to the company for a possible skateboard shoe endorsement.
Michael Avery called. “Adidas is willing to help you guys with your T-shirt marketing for The Beast Team.”
Brandon hesitated. “Um, don’t we need to have the trademark to do that?”
“Yeah, we looked into it already. The trademark for Beast Team clothing and T-shirts is still available. So we’ll trademark it in your name and move forward with a license of the brand if you guys are open to that. Either way, we’re still willing to trademark it for you.”
Brandon liked the trademark idea, but he’d rather have a full endorsement deal from Adidas rather than a licensing agreement. An endorsement deal meant money, whereas a licensing deal was more like bartering.
“How much would you pay for a license?” he asked immediately.
Michael tried to explain it. “Well, a licensing deal is not usually a lot of money upfront; it’s more about the opportunity to monetize a brand or a property through a relationship with a bigger company. And with the way you guys continuously push and market The Beast Team on your own, you could end up making a lot more for yourselves that way than through a traditional endorsement.”
“Yeah, but with a licensing deal, you’re not obligated to push it as hard either,” Brandon countered.
“Brandon, trust me. Whenever a major company acquires a license, that means they’re pretty serious about the property. Do you know how many different brands solicit us for licensing deals every day? And we’re talking about internationally.”
Brandon paced through his game room as he cradled his phone. He wasn’t interested in the licensing deal but wanted to consult with Leon and Simba first, who would be at his house by noon. “So, what’s happening with Jay Stewart?” he asked Michael. “Are you guys offering him a deal too? Does he get a licensing deal or a regular endorsement?”
It was a trick question that Brandon already knew the answer to. He hadn’t spoken to anyone at Adidas about the young skateboarder yet, but he figured it was time.
“They’re still going over the terms with Jay and his family, but nothing has been solidified. Have you spoken to them at all?”
Michael had countered with a trick question of his own, but Brandon was prepared for it.
“I gave him my ideas for three different lines of shoes when we were still out in Ohio, but I didn’t bring it up with you guys because I wanted to see if he liked the ideas first. I thought that’s what you guys wanted me to do.”
Honesty was the best policy and got Brandon closer to what he wanted.
“Yeah, he told us,” Michael confirmed.
“So, if Adidas uses my ideas, are they part of the internship, or do I actually get credit for that as a designer?”
Michael paused, then said, “I’m gonna call you back in a few minutes. Hold tight.”
When Brandon hung up, he felt like a young business detective who was onto something big. “I knew it,” he told himself as he continued to pace. “They think I’m naive because I’m young, but I’m not.”
Paul overheard his nephew as he walked into the room. “Hey, Brandon, what’s going on with you?”
“I’m just ready for conversations with some of your sports managers. I need to know this stuff,” Brandon answered anxiously.
“Brandon, I understand all of that, but these guys haven’t gotten back to me yet. It’s only been a couple days. This stuff is all moving too fast.”
“Well, I can’t help how fast it’s moving. We just have to be ready for it,” Brandon argued.
“Brandon, no one’s ready for an eighteen-year-old kid to deal with an international sneaker and apparel company like Adidas. Who’s ready for that? Those guys are huge.”
“Yeah, I get all of that. But they’re about to give this fifteen-year-old a sneaker deal, and he doesn’t know anything about sneakers. Then they’re gonna turn around and give us a licensing deal worth nothing? That’s not fair, especially if they use my shoe designs.”
Paul raised his palm. “Wait a minute. Adidas wants to give you a licensing deal?”
“Yeah, Michael just told me. But that doesn’t mean they have to do anything with it. How much would they even offer us for that? He didn’t even say.”
“Brandon, do you understand what that is? Adidas has a licensing deal with the NBA. You know that, right? Just look at all of the warm-up suits. And Nike has a new licensing deal with the NFL that’s worth billions.”
“Yeah, but that’s the NFL
and the NBA. It’s not like they’re gonna treat us that way,” Brandon argued. “I’m an eighteen-year-old kid, right? But watch how much these guys offer Andrew Wiggins when he comes out of Kansas next year. And he’s only eighteen too.”
Paul looked at his nephew incredulously. He was amazed by the argument. Brandon was way in over his head. “Brandon, what are you talking about? You can’t compare yourself to a six-foot-eight basketball prodigy. You know how professional basketball works. That kid’s viewed as the next LeBron. And it’s not fair for a lot of people. Is it fair that I grew to be six foot six and can shoot a basketball, while the next guy is five-eight and can’t hit the rim? No. But that’s life, Brandon, and we all have to deal with what we’re given.”
Before Brandon could respond, his phone rang. The screen showed Michael’s Virginia area code.
Paul warned, “Be respectful, Brandon. I mean it.”
Brandon frowned. “I am … Hello.”
“Yeah, I wanted to call you back on my cell phone to speak in private, so I took a late lunch break,” Michael explained. “But here’s the deal, Brandon. You simply did too much. No one expected all of that from you guys, so the company doesn’t quite know how to deal with it yet. So I came up with the idea of the licensing deal to give you guys something to run with. But I can’t tell them what to spend on it. We’ve been going back and forth about this offer all week. And I’ve been fighting for you guys, Brandon—the whole time.
“Remember, I’m the one who brought you in, so I want you to do well. But I also understand—more than they do—that you’re a go-getter. So I wanted to give you an opportunity that I feel you deserved with your own trademark. Now that doesn’t mean that you have to sign The Beast Team with Adidas. You could take your trademark to Nike or Under Armour and do what you want with it. That’s the option that I want you to have, just in case Adidas isn’t sold on it. And so far, they’re still hesitant.”
Michael took a deep breath. “Brandon, you didn’t hear this from me, okay? I never said this.”
“Okay,” Brandon agreed. “Like you said, you brought me in, so I trust you.”
The Sneaker Kings Page 12