The Sneaker Kings

by Eric McLauren

  “If I were you, I would strike some kind of a deal with the skateboarder’s parents. So, if you have any influence at all with Jay Stewart and his parents—which I know you do—then use it,” he continued. “In the meantime, I would allow this trademark process to go through, and then you can take your time on making a decision on the licensing.”

  Brandon took it all in and continued to pace the room.

  “Now, I hate to ask you this, but is your uncle around?” Michael asked. “I just want to repeat to him what I just told you.” He didn’t want to leave a volatile teenager with that much information without having his uncle involved.

  “Yeah, he’s standing next to me.”

  “Good. Let me speak to him for a minute.”

  Brandon handed Paul his phone. “He wants to talk to you.”

  “Hello,” Paul answered. He listened intently as Michael ran through all of the information. Paul nodded his head. “Yeah, that’s what I was telling him.”

  Brandon was no longer alarmed as he waited to get the phone back. He was devising new plans already.

  “That’s great,” Paul said. “I thank you for doing that. And no one knows what this kid is capable of more than me,” he added with a laugh.

  Brandon overheard him and smirked. Paul had his early doubts about him as well, but Brandon wanted to prove his worth to everyone.

  So, our popularity is just a passing phase, huh? We’ll see about that, he told himself.

  When Paul hung up the phone and gave it back to his nephew, he figured everything had been settled. “You see how it all worked itself out?” he asked Brandon with a smile. “Michael Avery already has your back on this.”

  Yeah, after I pushed him that way, Brandon thought. He was giving himself credit for forcing the issue. But he also gave Michael credit for fighting for them.

  “You can put your brain to rest for a minute now,” Paul said. “It’s all worked out. So just do what Michael told you to do. And I wouldn’t even share all of the details with your friends at this point unless you think they can handle it all.”

  Brandon frowned. “Yeah, that’s my Beast Team. Of course they can handle it. That’s why we’re so close. I can tell them anything.”

  “All right, I get all that. But now we’re talking about potentially making thousands of dollars, and they have parents too. So just think about that before you all have a sit-down. I can even be a part of it. And hopefully, my NBA guys will have called us back by then.”

  >>>

  By the time Brandon’s friends reached his house at noon, they had a revelation of their own to share. As soon as they walked into the foyer, Simba said, “Brandon, we’ve decided on no business talk today. So unless you have a big announcement to make about Adidas right now, we don’t want to talk about it. There’s nothing we can do about it but wait it out.”

  “Yeah, we’ve been talking about that stuff way too much lately. You’re like, possessed by it, dude,” Leon agreed with Simba.

  Paul walked out to meet the guys and looked down at Leon’s red, black and gold Nikes. “Nice kicks, Leon.”

  “Yeah, I went out and got these new Championship LeBron 10s last night,” Leon bragged. “It was the last pair they had in eleven. So I guess the Miami Heat will three-peat now, Brandon.”

  Brandon was impressed. “Yeah, those LeBrons are wicked. They look like devil shoes.” They even had a gold LeBron James lion at the top of the shoelaces.

  “I called them Hot Lavas,” Simba commented.

  Brandon said, “Now I guess I can’t get them.”

  “Why, because I have them first?” Leon asked rhetorically.

  “Those are the rules, man. You know that,” Simba answered. He wore a new pair of Jordan Cp3s in metallic blue and silver.

  “Your shoes are nice too, Simba,” said Paul.

  “I can’t let Leon have all the fun. So I broke out my Chris Paul True Blues.”

  “They look like a pair of Icemans or Silver Surfers,” Brandon joked.

  “Yeah, they do, just with blue in them, right?” Leon agreed.

  “So, we got a pair of LeBron Devils and Chris Paul Icemans. What are you gonna wear, Brandon, Kobe’s Black Mambas?” his uncle teased.

  Brandon paused and nodded. “Good idea.” At the moment, he wore a pair of black and white Nike Elite socks. “I’ll be right back,” he told his friends, dashing up the stairs to his room.

  In his absence, Paul told Simba and Leon, “I’m glad you guys want to stop him from talking so much about business. I feel like Brandon is losing some of his youth. He could use a good day out at the mall as a sneakerhead again.”

  “Yeah, tell me about it,” Leon said. “That’s what Simba and I were just talking about on the way over.”

  Up in Brandon’s walk-in closet, he looked through his section of Kobe Bryant boxes and picked out the celebrated Year of the Dragon 7s in red, gold and green. They were another pair of sneakers that he hadn’t worn yet. He smiled and mumbled, “Watch this.” He wore his Kobes back down into the foyer, expecting a strong reaction from his guys.

  “OOOHHH! The Year of the Dragon 7s! Where did you get ’em?” Simba asked.

  Brandon chuckled. “Come on, man, you know the rules. I don’t ask you guys where you get yours, so don’t ask me where I get mine.”

  “We got too many rules, man,” Leon complained. “But whatever.”

  “All right, you guys have a good time out at the mall,” Paul told them. “And remember, Brandon, no more business talk for the weekend. Just go out and enjoy yourself.”

  “We’re still going to look at the poster samples. That’s business too,” Brandon reminded them.

  “Yeah, but that’s our business and not Adidas, so we’re cool with that,” Simba said.

  “Okay, well, who’s driving?” Brandon asked as they walked out the door. “Uncle P, no more business talk from me.”

  >>>

  The guys pulled into the Glendale Galleria parking lot and climbed out of the car to head into the mall. They marched through the entrance doors for their first summer day as high school graduates at their old stomping grounds.

  “Man, it seems like I haven’t been to this mall in ages,” Simba commented.

  “You haven’t, but I have,” Brandon said.

  “Yeah, you basically co-own the poster shop in here,” Leon joked.

  As they strolled through the mall in their attention-getting sneakers, they picked up on the buzz that surrounded them. People were watching and whispering more than usual.

  “Isn’t that him?”

  Not sure if the onlookers were referring to them, Brandon and his guys went on about their business until people started chanting their name.

  “Beast Teeeeammm!”

  Simba looked around and waved. “It looks like they’ve been watching skateboarding back home.”

  Leon could feel it too. He smiled and said, “I don’t mind that.”

  Brandon grinned and kept his thoughts to himself. He had much bigger plans for them, particularly once they made it up to New York for college. But back in Arizona, he only wanted to prepare posters for online marketing.

  “Hey, Brandon, what’s going on?” someone called.

  Brandon turned to his left and eyed Marcus Graham, whom he had gone to middle school with. At six foot four, Marcus was taller than all of them now, a gangly white kid with green eyes. He had been the first to buy a pair of sneakers from Brandon back in the seventh grade, an autographed pair of white Jordan Melo 1.5s signed by Carmelo Anthony himself. Marcus paid two hundred dollars for them with his own allowance, and he had unknowingly jumpstarted Brandon’s shoe sales career. Marcus’s family then moved to Scottsdale, where he attended a private high school, so they hadn’t seen each other as much.

  “Hey, Marcus. What have you been up to, man?” Brandon greeted him. They shook hands and immediately looked down at each other’s shoes. Marcus wore a pair of dark-blue and lime-green Jordan Doernbecher 4s with the Sup
erman tongue.

  “I see you still got your shoe game,” Brandon commented with a smile.

  Marcus nodded. “Yeah, you too. I’ve never actually seen a pair of those,” he said of the Kobe Bryant Year of the Dragon 7s.

  Brandon grinned. “That’s the way I like it.”

  “You know I’ve been following you guys, right? I’m down with the whole Beast Team. So, how do I get in with you guys?”

  Brandon shrugged. “You’re already in. You bought our T-shirts and hats, right?”

  “I mean, but how do I hang out with you guys though? We go way back to middle school together. Don’t you get my messages?” Marcus pressed him.

  Brandon had been ignoring him. “Yeah, we’ve been traveling a lot.”

  Leon and Simba nodded to Marcus and stayed out of it. He was Brandon’s problem.

  “I hear you guys are going to NYU together,” Marcus hinted to all of them.

  “Yup,” Leon confirmed.

  “I’m going to ASU,” Marcus said.

  “Well, say hi to Cynthia Wallace for me,” joked Brandon.

  “Aw, man, you remember her from middle school? I saw her recently, and she’s still hot.”

  “Of course, I went to high school with her. But she’s not as hot as she used to be to me.”

  Leon and Simba chuckled at the inside joke. Brandon had finally moved on to someone new.

  “So, I could like, start a chapter of The Beast Team at ASU,” Marcus suggested. “What do you guys think about that?”

  No one said a word.

  “Ah … let me think about it,” Brandon told him.

  “Well, what are you guys doing now, looking at new shoes?”

  “No, we actually have an appointment to keep. So, we’ll talk to you.”

  Brandon started to walk away.

  “An appointment? For The Beast Team?” Marcus pressed again.

  “Yeah, we’ll hit you up, man,” Brandon answered and waved. As soon as they were out of earshot, Brandon said, “That guy has always been like that. He’s never had any friends.”

  “Isn’t that the kid you said bought your first pair of sneakers?” Simba asked.

  “Yeah, that’s him.”

  “Well, he’s tall, man. Can he play any ball?”

  Brandon frowned. “Heck no. He’s worse than any of us in ball, unless he’s gotten a lot better. But I doubt it.”

  “Beast Teeeaammm!” someone else yelled as they approached the poster shop.

  Simba waved to another group of young supporters. “Man, I’m kinda liking this.”

  “It’s that television power,” Leon commented.

  “Just wait ’til we get to New York,” Brandon hinted. He couldn’t help himself.

  “Yeah, New York is the marketing and media capital,” Simba said.

  They walked into a small boutique filled with sports and celebrity posters, enlarged personal and family pictures and one-of-a-kind frames.

  “Hey, Brandon, you’re early,” the shop manager said. She was a forty-something woman with a lot of spirit and energy, wearing small-rimmed glasses. She looked like an energized librarian. “I see you guys have been making a lot of noise lately,” she commented.

  “That’s the plan,” Brandon told her. “So, you’re not ready with the samples yet?”

  “Oh, no, we’re ready. I just didn’t expect you for another hour or so.”

  “Yeah, my guys wanted to get me out of the house, ASAP.”

  “Okay, well, let me pull them out.” She walked over and opened up a file cabinet behind the counter and grabbed Brandon’s samples of a miniature poster with a range of type fonts, sizes and colors.

  “These are some pretty good pictures you guys are using,” she mentioned. “Technology has really improved over the years with the digital cameras. The pictures are so clear now. So, how many posters do you guys expect to order?”

  Brandon and his guys were busy looking at the samples.

  “Aahhh, it depends on how many posters people buy,” Brandon answered. “We want to offer like three posters of each and see which ones sell the best.”

  “In that case, what you should do is post the ones you want to offer online first to see how many of each print to order beforehand. That way you don’t waste a lot of money.”

  “Good idea,” Brandon said. “Thanks.”

  “Oh yeah, I don’t want you guys wasting a bunch of money. I want you to be successful and come back for more,” she commented and chuckled.

  “Man, we’re about to make these guys famous,” Leon predicted, eyeing the poster samples. “These look better than some professional posters.”

  “Why, thank you,” the store manager gushed. “That’s because we are professionals. We understand how important the visual impact is, so we zoomed in and cropped them to get the best imagery and character of each shot without losing clarity.”

  Simba looked at the poster samples of basketball phenom David Terry as he soared through the air on incredible dunks, released three-pointer shots at the height of his jump and handled the basketball in his hands. Simba was hooked. Then he looked at the samples of Jay Stewart hovering in the air on his skateboard, spinning in whirlwind circles and floating above the board devoid of gravity.

  “Yeah, these are incredible!” Simba agreed. “And they all have ‘The Beast Team’ on them. That’s the best part to me. It brings it all home. These guys are beasts.”

  Brandon laughed, excited himself. “Well, let’s choose the ones we like and post them up to start taking orders today.”

  “Yeah, and we can start the setup for you,” the manager told them. “We’ll only charge you for the setup until you know how many you want to print. And remember, it takes about two weeks for a print job of this magnitude.”

  “Okay,” Brandon said. “We’ll tell them it takes three weeks for shipping then.”

  >>>

  By the time the guys left the mall, they were floating. The future looked bright. Everything was falling right into place. And Brandon had yet to tell his guys the latest news from Adidas. But as they headed back to Leon’s RAV4 in the parking lot, carrying bags of swimming gear for their trip to Florida, they found out how quickly life could change.

  A grey Mazda sped up beside them and jammed the brakes as a barrel-chested Latino and a skinny white accomplice jumped out the back, aiming high-powered pistols at them.

  “Take those fucking sneakers off now! Hurry up!”

  Brandon had never worn his Kobe Dragons outside of the house before, and Leon had just bought his Championship LeBrons. Neither moved. However, Simba saw the guns aimed at his face and took off his Chris Pauls immediately.

  “Fuck those CPs, man! We want the other shoes,” the lead assailant barked. They both looked to be in their early twenties, with hardened faces and eyes.

  Brandon thought about the money they would soon make from their poster sales, T-shirts, hats, shoe designs and everything else, and he took a deep breath before deciding to comply. He bent down and quickly untied his shoelaces to kick off his rare pair of Kobes. But Leon hesitated while searching around for the Kia security SUVs that usually patrolled the parking lots. After all, it was broad daylight in the heat of the summer. He figured there was no way in the world these guys would get away with this. They were crazy for even trying. Shoppers were still driving up to park their cars and go shopping.

  “If I have to say it again, I’ll shoot you in your fucking head!”

  The gun rose closer to Leon’s temple as Brandon began to panic.

  “Give him the shoes, man. We can buy more,” Simba pleaded.

  Hearing that, the second assailant snatched their shopping bags. “What’s in the bags?”

  With only swimming trunks, goggles, slippers and beach towels inside, he threw the bags to the ground. Tired of waiting for the LeBrons, the lead assailant banged Leon in the head with the butt of his gun and knocked him into the front grille of a parked car. He then grabbed at the sneakers while L
eon kicked.

  In a flash, Brandon envisioned the end of his friend’s life from a close-range gunshot wound. His heart jumped into his throat. “Stop it, man! Stop it! Give him the shoes!” he screamed at Leon, slipping off his own.

  The assailants finally got them off without shooting him and jumped into the back of the car before their driver sped off. The scene lasted only minutes, but it felt like forever. That’s when bystanders began to call for help.

  “I’m calling the police,” an older man offered.

  “Oh, my God! They did that in broad daylight. I don’t believe that,” shrieked a young mother with her son and daughter in tow.

  Brandon attempted to help Leon up, but his friend knocked his hands away.

  “Get off, man,” he barked gruffly. He was pissed and embarrassed. “I just bought those shoes.”

  “Dude, we can buy more. It’s not that serious. We got money coming in. The shoes aren’t worth your life, man. I mean, come on.”

  Simba was still in shock and didn’t know what to say. But they didn’t bother to take his CPs at all. So he felt guilty about it and didn’t put them back on.

  “Get your shoes, man,” Leon snapped at him.

  >>>

  The mall security and local police showed up in their squad cars minutes too late.

  “What happened?”

  “We got robbed for our sneakers, man. Three guys in a grey car,” Leon told them. “And two of them had guns.”

  “What kind of car?”

  “A small car, man, I don’t know,” Leon barked. “They just left. You can still catch them. I thought you guys were supposed to patrol the parking lot.”

  “Hey, calm down. These things happen,” one of the police officers said. “I know you’re upset right now, but we can’t be at every place at all times. So, show us a little respect.”

  As a small crowd gathered around them, all that Brandon could think about was Leon still being alive. At the moment, he could care less about the shoes. He didn’t even want to file a report and go through all of the hassles of tracking the guys down. He just wanted to move on from it. They still had a lot of work to do. And they only had a month and a half left in Arizona anyway. Then it was off to New York.