The Sneaker Kings

by Eric McLauren

  AFTERMATH

  AFTER THE ROBBERY, Brandon felt he had no choice but to tell his guys about the Adidas conversation he had with Michael Avery that morning. He needed to calm their nerves and reinforce their confidence, especially Leon’s.

  Leon squeezed his temples with both hands as he sat in the passenger seat. “Man, I’m gonna need some Tylenol,” he complained.

  Simba drove the RAV4. Leon wasn’t in the right frame of mind to drive.

  “You sure you don’t need to go to the hospital?” Simba asked him.

  “Nah, man. They’ll just have us waiting around for hours and then charge three hundred dollars just to give me Tylenol anyway. I hate hospitals. You don’t need to go there unless you get shot or need stitches or something … or have broken bones. And I don’t have any of that.”

  “Yeah, you’ll be fine, man,” Brandon assured him. “And I can give you two hundred dollars to replace your shoes.”

  Leon frowned. “Brandon, as soon as I put them on my feet this morning, the price jumped to four hundred dollars. And now that they’re stolen, they’re worth eight hundred.”

  Brandon smiled at him. “I’m glad you still have your sense of humor. You know I wouldn’t pay eight hundred dollars. I always get deals.”

  “So, you’re telling us that Adidas will trademark The Beast Team for us, but they won’t give us any money from the Jay Stewart deal?” Leon repeated.

  “Yeah, we need to talk to Jay’s parents to get that ten percent you talked about,” Brandon brought up.

  “And how much are they giving him?” Leon asked.

  “I still don’t know yet. But whatever it is, ten percent of that is better than nothing, right?”

  “So what are you gonna say to them?” Simba asked.

  “I don’t really know that yet either.”

  Leon looked surprised. “Brandon doesn’t know what he’s gonna say? What? Did you get hit in the head back there too?” he joked.

  “Well, I kinda know what I want to say, but I want to wait and see what they say first. But I’m not gonna tell them that Adidas isn’t giving us anything. That’s for sure.”

  “Why not? They might be on your side and force Adidas to give us something,” Simba suggested.

  Brandon shook his head and cringed. “I doubt if they would do anything like that. I mean, we’re still talking about a major company here. They can’t tell them what to do.”

  “You told Jay to force your sneaker ideas on them,” Leon reflected. “Yeah, if they’re gonna put his name on them, he should have some say-so in what they design,” Brandon insisted. “But that doesn’t mean they have to pay us.”

  “This guy’s fifteen years old, Brandon. He can’t even sign anything without his parents. They should have more say-so than him. So, if they want us in on the deal, then tell them to say it.”

  Brandon didn’t know if Leon was still upset about his shoes being stolen, but his opinions on the Adidas negotiations sure came out strong.

  “I’ll have to see what they say first. I don’t want to screw this up.”

  “That’s why we need representatives,” Simba insinuated.

  Leon stared Simba down. “That’s why you need to become a New York lawyer like Brandon told you. Now shut up and drive.”

  >>>

  That evening, the guys gathered in Brandon’s game room for the big phone call to Ohio. Leon had not been home yet to report his stolen shoes. They still hoped the police would find who did it and call them. But so far, they had no such luck.

  “I guess I gotta tell my parents my new LeBrons are gone,” Leon grumbled.

  Brandon took a deep breath and exhaled. “We’ll get it all back with this Adidas deal, man.”

  “All right, make the phone call then. Stop talking about it, and let’s do it,” Leon barked.

  “I wanna make sure his parents are home first.”

  “It’s five o’clock here, Brandon. That makes it what, seven or eight o’clock out there. Call him,” Leon pressed him.

  Simba smiled, noticing that Leon was getting increasingly demanding as Brandon made the call. “Hey, Jay, what’s going on, man? I got your texts about the poster samples I sent you earlier. We were just running around out here,” Brandon said.

  “Yeah, these are way cool. I showed my sisters and parents, and they all want one—my brother too. They remind me of Fathead posters. Can you send us like five?”

  Brandon stopped and smiled at his guys, who were sitting on the sofa. He was up pacing again as they listened.

  “So, you really liked them then? I got the whole idea from Fathead.”

  “Yeah, they make me look incredible. They’re better than any skateboard posters I’ve seen.”

  Leon and Simba could hear Jay’s enthusiasm. Brandon didn’t even have him on speaker. The kid was that loud and excited. That made going for the kill easier.

  “So, what did your parents say about our idea of selling posters?” Brandon asked.

  “They said it was smart, and they’re glad that you’re working with me.”

  Brandon heard that and imitated a Tiger Woods uppercut after a victory on the green. Simba nodded, smiling broadly himself; but Leon wasn’t impressed.

  “Now talk to his parents,” he grumbled.

  Brandon frowned and shook his head. “Are your parents home? Can I speak to them for a minute?” he asked Jay. “Thanks.” He put the phone on mute to report to his guys, “He’s going to get them.”

  When Jay’s mother took the phone, Brandon became more tactful. “We’re just trying to do everything we can to help your son to become a success. Because if Jay’s successful then we’re successful,” he explained to her.

  “Yeah, and we really appreciate that. We’re all very excited for him,” she responded.

  “We’re doing an internship with Adidas now, but we may have some other companies interested in us soon. That’s why we continue to promote The Beast Team,” Brandon explained.

  “Yeah, we saw that. You guys also have David Terry, the basketball player.”

  Brandon had sent David Terry’s poster designs to Jay as well. It was all a part of his plan. He had also sent David Terry the skateboard images of Jay.

  “Yeah, David Terry is like the next Kyrie Irving,” Brandon boasted. “Have you heard of him?”

  “Yeah, we know Kyrie Irving. I mean, we’ve never actually met him or anything, but we definitely know who he is. How could we not know him? We live in Ohio,” Brandon’s mother said, laughing. “After the whole LeBron James thing, we were all looking for a new guy to get behind in Ohio.”

  “Yeah, so David Terry might sign with Nike in a few years,” Brandon hinted.

  Leon and Simba watched and listened while Brandon worked his magic.

  Jay’s mother asked, “Do you think we should sign with Nike?”

  Brandon paused to execute his chess move. Deep down he was nervous, but he had been doing shoe deals for years. So he tried to look at it as nothing more than selling another pair of shoes to a ravenous sneakerhead.

  “Actually, I would say no, because Adidas wants to sign him now. Nike has other skateboarders. So, what I would do is sign a short two- or three-year deal with Adidas and see how it goes with them first. But you have to get them to do what you want, so you have as much control as you can before signing.”

  “Well, does your uncle know of any agents or lawyers who can help us out with this?”

  Brandon smiled from ear to ear and nodded to his guys. His uncle’s connection with the NBA was perfect for business, and the Stewart family was falling right into his hands.

  “Yeah, he does,” Brandon answered. “We’re waiting on several calls from my uncle’s contacts to help us on our Beast Team negotiations.”

  “Well, can you get someone to call us as well? I’m sure that basketball agents would know a lot more about these kinds of shoe deals than the attorneys that we know.”

  Brandon hesitated. He hadn’t secured his own repr
esentation deal yet.

  “We can do that,” he answered anyway. “We just want to help you get it right.”

  When Brandon hung up with the Stewarts, he still hadn’t discussed a specific deal with them, and Leon was fully aware of it.

  “I didn’t hear you ask them about a deal for us. What were you smiling about? Did they say they were gonna give us something?”

  “No, but if they’re using us for our contacts, it makes it a lot more likely. So, we’ll do it like a package.”

  “Yeah, but then we’ll have to pay an agency fee for something that we already started,” Simba commented.

  “And that’ll mean less money for us,” Leon complained.

  Brandon sighed. “At least we’ll have someone who knows what they’re doing. You guys are wearing me out. I’m trying to make sure we get something instead of nothing.”

  “So, who’s gonna represent us?” Leon pressed him.

  Brandon paused. “I don’t know yet. They still haven’t called my uncle back.”

  Leon continued to pout. “Aw, man, they don’t have weeks and weeks to do this. Adidas wants to sign him right now. And they may change their minds soon.”

  Brandon shook it off. “I don’t believe that. If anything, this gives us more time to think about it ourselves.”

  “Think about what? We already know what we want, and you didn’t say it,” Leon barked.

  Simba agreed. “Yeah, and the later we ask them for something the worse it’ll be. It’ll seem like it’s coming out of nowhere.”

  “Not if the agent brings it up first,” Brandon suggested.

  “Then it’ll look like we got an agent to ask them for money instead of us doing it ourselves,” Leon argued.

  “Look, what do you want from me? I’m doing the best I can,” Brandon snapped. “I can’t just ask them for money. I have to put it in the proper context. And they haven’t signed anything yet, so just calm down. We don’t even know how much they’re gonna offer them yet.”

  Simba acknowledged Brandon’s tantrum and grinned. “We weren’t supposed to talk about business today anyway.”

  “Yeah, that’s before we got robbed at the mall today,” Leon said. “And you said you would give me two hundred dollars to buy a new pair,” he added, looking at Brandon.

  “I’ll give you your money, Leon, just stop bitching already.” He thought about saying more but forced himself not to.

  Brandon’s rant caught Leon off guard.

  “So I’m bitching now, huh? All right.”

  With stale air filling the room, Simba wisely decided to turn on the flatscreen television to start a game of NBA 2K12 basketball. “Anyone want to play my Rockets?”

  Brandon took a deep breath and sat on the edge of the long sofa. “Sure, I’ll play you.”

  Leon didn’t say another word. Instead, he blew off his steam in silence.

  READY FOR FLORIDA

  THAT NEXT WEEK, Brandon and his uncle received a few calls from NBA agents and managers. They chose a young, hungry representative named Raymond House—a sharp black attorney in his early thirties. Raymond hit it off with the Stewart family too. He even agreed to discuss compensation with the Stewarts for The Beast Team’s marketing efforts, although he capped their compensation at five percent instead of ten. But the guys were all happy with that.

  With that issue out of the way, the guys were more than ready for their next internship event with Adidas, in Tampa, Florida. They arrived again on a Thursday night before the weekend’s tournament games and were more familiar now with the staff. However, after The Beast Team’s upstaging of Adidas in Columbus, Ohio, Daniel Baker was determined to run a much tighter ship in Tampa.

  “Brandon, this is about teamwork down here in Tampa. These are soccer teams, not individuals. Likewise, we’re all here to represent team Adidas. You got that?”

  Brandon looked at Michael Avery, but there was nothing he could say about it. Daniel outranked him. So Brandon smiled and accepted it. “Okay.”

  He and his guys had several negotiations working in their favor, so he put on a lime-green “Adidas is All In” T-shirt to match a pair of lime-green and blue D Roses and fell right in line with the rest of the staff as they prepared to work a huge girls’ soccer tournament.

  After their first group meeting concluded, Natasha whispered, “I guess he told you.”

  Brandon shrugged. “Whatever. It’s only girls here anyway. We’re pushing soccer cleats and gear.”

  “So, what are you saying? Soccer girls can’t be sneakerheads?” Natasha challenged.

  Brandon continued to grin, dismissing her comment. “We’re out in the suburbs of Florida for a soccer tournament. Who’s gonna be thinking about sneakers out here? We’re thinking more about going swimming like you told us.”

  “Oh, you are? Well, I hope you did some pushups.”

  Simba and Leon roared, while Adrienne shook her head, grinning.

  Pushups won’t help that boy, Adrienne thought. He needs about twenty more pounds of muscle.

  >>>

  When Brandon arrived back at the room that night, he was still nervous about his physique.

  “You better start drinking some protein juices and eating carbs,” Leon joked.

  “I’m not that bad, am I?” Brandon asked him seriously.

  Simba shrugged. “I mean, you’re slimmer than us, but you’re still cut. You’re shaped more like a basketball player. They’re rarely thick like football players or swimmers.”

  “Except for the big fat guys under the basket,” Leon ribbed. “They’re built more like elephants. So, I wouldn’t worry about it, B … until she sees your chicken chest.”

  The guys shared another laugh at Brandon’s expense, and there was nothing he could do about it. He hadn’t even thought much about his body before then. Natasha even texted him—Sorry about putting you on the spot earlier. I don’t even care about stuff like that. It was only a joke. Okay?

  But it was too late for that. She had already said it, and Brandon couldn’t get the idea off his mind. He thought about doing some pushups that night. He couldn’t even sleep well. So he texted her back.

  —i’m doing my pushups all night. i hope i don’t drown tomorrow from sore arms. lol—

  —Brandon, I didn’t mean it. Don’t hurt yourself. And I won’t let you drown. I’ll save you.—

  —thanks. i feel much better now. smh—

  On and on they went, trying to undo the damage, but all that Brandon could think about was Natasha seeing his body while swimming in Florida.

  >>>

  With more than a half-dozen soccer fields and all-day tournament games, the Adidas team was spread out over several shaded stations with T-shirts, carry bags, wristbands, headbands, water bottles, keychains, socks, soccer equipment and different styles of cleats. Brandon and his guys had learned all about cleats and which brands cost more and why.

  Brandon had even watched a few games, featuring some phenomenal soccer players. But his mind continued to stray as he thought more about their evening break of swimming back at the hotel. He was so zoned out that Friday afternoon that nothing else mattered.

  “There he is right there,” Natasha announced. She and Adrienne pointed Brandon out to a tall, blond-haired soccer player, who wore bright, candy-colored Kevin Durants.

  Brandon looked at the girl’s long, limber body and cute face and then down to her attention-getting sneakers, while wondering what was going on. The girl had a confident stance and appeared to be expecting something.

  “What?” Brandon responded, perplexed. “Who is this?”

  “Her name is Danielle Lyles, your first female Beast Team member,” Adrienne answered with a grin.

  Simba overheard that and gave the young blonde a nod. “Cool.” She had the look of athleticism. With a tight stomach and a soft, young face, she was perfect for posters.

  But Brandon wasn’t expecting any of this. “What?” he repeated. He didn’t know if they were serious or
joking.

  “Everyone calls me D.L., and I’m a true sneakerhead from Pensacola,” the girl told him. “I love The Beast Team, and I already ordered the posters of Jay Stewart and David Terry from your Instagram link. And I think it would be way cool if I was the first girl. I even have tons of soccer pictures that you could use for posters. I can show you some right now on my iPhone.”

  She hit him with a truckload of information that Brandon wasn’t ready for. Before he could even open his mouth, her teammates surrounded them at the shaded Adidas booth. Danielle Lyles apparently had her own army.

  “Well, how good are you at soccer?” Brandon asked her. She had to be a beast in her sport—not just a pretty sneakerhead.

  “She’s one of the top three soccer players her age in the country, recruited by North Carolina, USC and Portland. She’s already broken eight academy-league soccer club records. She also led us to two Florida state soccer titles in high school,” one of her teammates blurted.

  Simba started to chuckle. The girl is ready.

  Brandon nodded. “Wow. That’s good.” What else could he say?

  “Yeah, but Natasha and Adrienne said it’s not good enough, because you don’t let any girls on your Beast Team,” Danielle challenged him in front of her team of supporters.

  Brandon was impressed by her tenacity. “I never said I don’t let girls on the team. But I need time to think about it for anyone we add.”

  “What’s going on?” Leon chimed in.

  “She wants to be the first girl member of The Beast Team,” Simba said.

  Leon nodded at Danielle. “I saw you score two goals earlier.”

  “Yeah, but Brandon didn’t,” Danielle responded with a smirk.

  Simba had already voted her in. He was impressed with her swagger, and soccer was a huge girls’ sport. He was certain that her teammates and thousands of young girls would buy her Fathead-inspired posters. Even some of the guys would buy them because of her nice looks and body. Danielle had sexiness and curves. So it was a no-brainer to Simba. She could sell posters to girls and guys.

  “What’s going on over here?” Daniel Baker asked from the back of the crowd.