The Sneaker Kings

by Eric McLauren

  “So, you all are this popular from wearing sneakers, huh?” J.R. asked them casually. He was as tall as Amar’e, but with colorful tattoos everywhere, including his neck.

  “We’re just getting started, really,” Simba answered. “Other sneakerheads have YouTube blogs—Da Closet Collector, Sneaker Fiends, Ericka, Franalations, Jacques Slade, KickGenius and more. So we’re not the only ones.”

  J.R. shook his head and chuckled. “I don’t know any of them. I just wear and buy the shoes. But I do know how crazy the sneaker fanatics can get. I played ball over in China, and that’s where they make all the shoes.”

  “Yeah, but these guys took it to another level,” Raymond commented. “They did an internship with Adidas, got a kid signed to an endorsement deal, designed their own shoes for him, then got a T-shirt trademark deal and picked up three young clients to promote. Now they’re up here in New York City about to put on their first sneaker show with a big-time deejay and five NBA players as special guests. So, they’re just sitting here being modest with you, J.R.”

  “You mean, four NBA players, don’t you? I hope you’re not counting me,” Paul interjected with a chuckle. “Is Carmelo Anthony showing up by surprise tomorrow?” he joked.

  “You can still sign posters as ‘Three-P.’ What are you talking about?” Amar’e said. “You need to get a haircut and a shave though. What are you waiting for, tomorrow morning?”

  That was exactly what Brandon wanted to know. He remained speechless.

  Paul laughed it off. “Actually, I was trying to grow it all out until I get signed somewhere.”

  “Well, I hope you get signed soon before you start to look like Sasquatch,” Amar’e jested.

  Everyone laughed, including Brandon, who was glad Amar’e had called his uncle out on it.

  Taking slight offense, Paul ruffled Leon’s curly mane. “I see you’re growing your hair out too now, Leon.”

  “Yeah, but mine looks good,” Leon countered.

  Raymond switched the subject back to business, telling Brandon, “And remember, you can’t introduce me to David Terry or Danielle Lyles tomorrow. I’m not going anywhere near them. In fact, I’m not showing up until after six when the NBA guys are there.”

  Brandon nodded. “That’s cool. But my roommate wants to meet you. He’s the one who designed our new logos. And he’s no athlete, so you don’t have to worry about him.”

  “Why have you been so quiet tonight, Brandon?” Paul finally asked. “You still coming along in school?”

  “Yeah, it’s been great. We’re studying marketing and doing marketing at the same time.”

  “You guys all have the same classes?” asked Raymond.

  Simba shook his head. “Not all of them. We have different electives. And even the classes we do have, we tried to take them on different days or times so we can get to know other people.”

  “And we all hand out fliers in our different classes,” Leon added.

  Raymond was impressed. “That’s pretty smart. You guys think of everything.”

  “That’s Brandon thinking of everything,” Leon said. “Mr. Anal Retentive over there.”

  “Yeah, Leon’s like Pharrell now with the models,” Brandon hinted.

  J.R. looked and asked Leon, “How many models y’all got?”

  “Ten.”

  “Good-looking? Thick?”

  “Good-looking, but not that thick. Most of them are just pretty,” Leon answered.

  Amar’e joked, “They’re college girls, J.R., leave ’em alone.”

  “Man, I’m not thinking about no college girl. Unless they look that good,” J.R. joked.

  Everyone laughed again as their soul food arrived.

  Amar’e grinned and took a strong whiff of the dishes. “Looking good and smelling good, fellas. Let’s all pray for a good day tomorrow and dig in.”

  >>>

  “What you got in the box from your uncle tonight, Brandon, some new Foamposites?” Leon asked on the guy’s taxi ride back to campus after dinner. Amar’e, J.R., Raymond and Paul had gone to hang out among the New York nightlife. But The Beast Team had to get ready for their big day in the morning. They couldn’t attend most New York clubs anyway.

  Brandon smiled, holding a Nike box in his lap as if a million dollars were inside it. “You know the rules. You’ll see them tomorrow.”

  “Nah, the rules are that you don’t tell us where you got ’em from or how much they cost. But you can show ’em to us,” Leon argued.

  Brandon thought about that. “All right, I’ll show you. Just keep your cool.”

  He opened the box and showed them his new shoes, a pair of multi-colored Foamposite Asteroids with bright-yellow toes that faded into orange, red and purple sides with black heels.

  “There’s Mr. Standout again,” Leon said. “They can’t miss you wearing those. But one of these days, I’ma find out who your contact is.”

  “Yeah, they’re nice,” Simba agreed. But he continued to think more about Jintana. He couldn’t wait to call her up to apologize to her again and find out what she was doing. But he wouldn’t do it around his guys. He needed his privacy.

  Brandon continued to think about his uncle and how he was doing with money. Paul still had a mortgage and child support to pay each month.

  THE BIG EVENT

  AT NOON AT a West Village Manhattan nightclub, a long line of sneakerheads, soccer girls and parents stretched down the block. And the guys had hired a team of security guards to keep it orderly.

  “All right, guys. Are you ready?” the club owner asked inside.

  Brandon, Paul, Leon, Simba, Natasha, Adrienne, Jinni, Tarun, Marcus, Jay Stewart and his family and Danielle Lyles and her family were all ready for showtime. Adidas, Reebok, Nike, Vans and eighteen other vendors were ready with tables full of sneakers, T-shirts, hats and all other sneakerhead-related apparel, including all sorts of colorful shoelaces.

  “Yeah, let’s go,” Brandon announced with a nod.

  Danielle Lyles was already seated at a signing table near the club’s center stage—an elevated platform for dancers. They had a VIP rope in front of her to maintain an orderly line.

  Danielle smiled nervously and took a deep breath. She wore a Knicks-colored Beast Team baby T-shirt with blue jeans and a pair of Knicks Jordan 1s that she had bought in New York.

  Brandon wore a bright yellow and black theme for the day to match his Asteroid Foamposites. He sported a yellow Beast Team T-shirt, a matching hat and black jeans. Leon wore a red, white and black theme with his black jeans and MVP LeBron 9s. And Simba wore a blue and white theme of blue jeans and Royal Foamposites to match Brandon’s.

  Natasha wore a Knicks baby T like Danielle, with matching Knicks Adidas. Adrienne wore the Heat’s black and red theme with black Air Jordan 5s. And Jinni wore the Nets theme of black and white, while standing tall in high heels and a long black skirt with stockings.

  A college deejay and music producer spun safe pop records at low volume, mindful of the young soccer girls and sneakerheads haggling for early business. And as soon as the eager crowd began to flood into the nightclub’s open space, Marcus slapped Brandon on the back and said, “You did it, man! You opened in New York!”

  Marcus wore the New York Knicks theme himself with a pair of white and blue Melo 8s, praying that Carmelo Anthony would make an appearance that evening. Brandon’s roommate stood beside them in Brooklyn’s black and white team colors with his same pair of Taxi Jordan 12s.

  “This is only the opening hour, guys. But let’s see what it looks like in five more hours,” Brandon cautioned.

  “Yeah, but no matter what, you did it,” Marcus insisted. “And just think, I was the one who bought those first pair of shoes from you.”

  Brandon grinned and decided to walk away. He had an entire room to work.

  “I sure wish Adidas were ready with your first release of shoes,” Jay’s mom commented, standing next to her son and family. Jay wore the Heat’s black and red too
with black Vans.

  “Yeah, they should have something ready by the end of the year,” her husband responded. Jay only watched in silence, amazed by it all as his sister went to help out with Danielle.

  As the crowd of young soccer fans flowed into the club and bought posters and other small items to have them signed at Danielle’s table, her father took pictures. They even had her show off some of her soccer moves with a teaching clinic. But they decided not to sell Danielle’s racy sneakers-for-clothing posters until the skateboard and basketball crowd showed up later.

  Brandon took a casual head count as they walked around the room, estimating how much money was being made. A count of a hundred heads equaled two thousand dollars. Their goal was seventy thousand for the day, with the assumption that the younger crowd would leave early.

  “Can my son take a picture with you guys? He’s been talking about The Beast Team all month, and I just couldn’t believe a group of teenagers could do something this big,” a proud mother commented to Brandon.

  “Sure. What part of New York are you guys from?” Brandon asked her. He looked down at her preteen son, who reminded Brandon of when he himself was younger. The kid was grinning away, with two boxes of sneakers and two different colors of Beast Team T-shirts.

  “Actually, we drove down from Connecticut this morning,” his mother answered.

  “Oh, wow. Well, let’s go grab my guys to take a big picture.”

  Simba and Jinni sold Beast Team gear at the main table near the front door while Natasha handled the money box. Leon and Adrienne helped to monitor other business in the room. And Paul watched it all, mixed with emotions of pride and envy.

  I need to be doing something more with my life! he mused from a corner.

  Once Brandon gathered Leon and Simba for pictures, a flood of other young sneakerheads jumped in line to be caught on camera with them.

  “BEAST TEEEEAMMM!” the guys began to yell. It was like old times again.

  >>>

  After two o’clock, Danielle took a break while Jay Stewart set up at the table to autograph posters, sneakers and Beast Team gear for the skateboard fans. And he performed skateboard moves. By that time, as expected, the room was thick with more sneakerheads. They were out in full force, shopping, trading, selling, buying and haggling for old, new, retro and hard-to-get shoes.

  “Wow, this is something else,” Mr. Lyles told Brandon as he took more pictures. “These kids are making a lot of money in here.”

  Brandon chuckled. “Some do, some don’t. That’s the nature of the game. One day you make over a thousand dollars, the next day you spend three hundred. It just depends on what’s there and what people want on that particular day. But this one has everything.”

  “So, when are you guys gonna get out there and sell your shoes?”

  “Right before six o’clock,” Brandon answered with a wide grin. “That’s when the older sneakerheads will be here. And we want to get it out of the way before this place goes crazy from six to eight.”

  Mr. Lyles nodded, loving his plans of execution. “That’s when you’ll have the NBA guys and the models performing, right?”

  “Yes, sir,” Brandon confirmed.

  Mr. Lyles held out his strong right hand again. “You’re a genius, kid. Genius!”

  “I’m just trying to work hard for it, sir,” Brandon said with respect and humility.

  As the sales floor continued to buzz and bustle with sneakerheads from the New York metropolitan area and beyond, Brandon got more anxious. He was happy that the money was adding up from the door, but hoping there would be enough room left for the older sneakerheads to get in.

  “Shit,” he mumbled to himself. “More of these people are gonna have to leave before six.” Brandon began to wonder if they could kick some of the younger sneakerheads out. But that wouldn’t have been right. So he checked the front door to see how long the afternoon line was, and it continued to fill out and stretch down the block.

  “Shit!” Brandon cursed himself again.

  Noticing his distress, Natasha took a break from the Beast Team sales table to catch up with him. “Hey, baby, what’s wrong?”

  He looked at Natasha and sighed. “Man, we have all these kids still in here, and I’m thinking they’re gonna take too much room away from the older crowd.”

  “I knew you were thinking that. But their money is still good. And at least some of their parents are leaving. Some of them are coming back to pick them up.”

  “Yeah, but we need more of these kids to leave. We have a capacity of three thousand, and it looks like we’re getting close to that now. And it’s only three o’clock,” he explained in panic.

  Natasha whispered to him through the steady flow of music that grew louder and harder as the crowd got older and thicker. “That’s sixty thousand dollars, Brandon,” she said. “That’s what you want, right? So, don’t sweat it. Just let them come and do their thing. You’re making money, and the real people you need to impress are already here. That’s Adidas, Nike and Reebok. They see what you’re doing. But if you think these kids in here are gonna leave before the NBA guys show up, with models, DJ Flex and introductions to new sneakers, then you’re crazy. These kids are not leaving. They’re getting here early for that, and they’re enjoying themselves.

  “That’s the main thing you need to worry about,” she continued. “Did they have a good time? Then they’ll go and tell everybody, ‘Man you missed it! It was great! And I can’t wait until the next one.’ And that’s all you need to think about.”

  Brandon felt better about things. Natasha was just what the doctor ordered, again and again. So he leaned into her and kissed her lips. “Thanks. I love you.”

  Natasha smiled, her brown eyes twinkling. “You better love me,” she teased. She walked away with a bounce in her step just for Brandon as he laughed and watched.

  Wow! I’m a very lucky guy.

  >>>

  By three thirty, Brandon was stressed again. David Terry and his family hadn’t arrived yet, and the basketball phenom from North Carolina was up at four. The DJ had already made the announcements to the young basketball fans who were anticipating David’s appearance. So Brandon stepped outside to call him. And when the crowd in line noticed, they started hooting and yelling, “BEAST TEEEEAMMM!”

  Brandon smiled and acknowledged them. He even noticed a few students from NYU standing in line. But it was making it hard for him to hear. So he was forced to walk across the street from the club to take a phone call.

  “Hey, David, where are you, man? It’s almost four o’clock.”

  David laughed. “Calm down, man, we’re right behind you.”

  “Where?”

  “Turn around and look in the car.”

  Brandon turned and spotted a light-blue Cadillac sedan cruising up the street. David waved his hand to him out the passenger side window.

  “Thank God,” Brandon let out with a smile.

  David’s Uncle Rudolf pulled up with his two teenage sons in the back.

  “Let me get you inside while your uncle finds a parking spot,” Brandon said.

  David hopped out with his two cousins as Brandon led them to the door.

  “David Terry!” someone yelled from the line.

  David looked and nodded without knowing who called him. “What’s up?” He and his cousins followed behind Brandon and into the crowded nightclub. “Damn,” the lanky baller responded as they walked in. “Y’all doing it big, man.”

  “Yeah, that’s the only way to win,” Brandon told him. “BEAST TEEEEAMMM!” he yelled as he led the basketball player through the crowd and toward the featured table. He then introduced him to Jay Stewart.

  “Hey, what’s up, man? We need to get Beast Team dog chains or something,” David suggested playfully. They shook hands and smiled at each other. Then Danielle joined them with her father, who was poised to snap more pictures.

  “Hey, let me get a picture of all of you guys together. This is his
torical.”

  “Wait a minute,” Brandon said. “Let me get David some Beast Team gear to wear.” The basketball phenom was still in his regular clothes while everyone else was Beast Team branded.

  “Carolina light blue, baby,” David told him.

  “All right, I got you.”

  Brandon pushed through the crowd, planning to gather Simba and Leon with him. In five minutes, the full crew of popular teenagers was standing in front of the signing table—Brandon, Simba, Leon, Jay, Danielle and David, while a crowd of people took pictures on their cell phones.

  “All right, guys, Beast Team on three,” Brandon told them. “One, two, three—”

  “BEAST TEEEAMMM!”

  Marcus Graham watched it from deep in the crowd. He wanted badly to be a part of their inner circle, but he was not. He had flown all the way from Arizona only to feel like an outsider again. But the feeling was even worse up close. Marcus could now smell, touch and taste their success, but he was not allowed to eat it with them. That reality was killing him!

  From the far corner of the room, Paul watched the history of it unfold as well, while standing by the Lyles and Stewart families.

  “This is really incredible,” Danielle’s mother told him.

  Paul smiled at her. “I’ve been seeing it all year. But I had no idea things would take off this quickly.”

  “But you knew that it would happen eventually, right?” Jay’s father asked. His wife had headed off into the crowd to take pictures of her own.

  “Well, once they were offered an internship with Adidas this summer—yeah. But I still didn’t think of anything like this,” Paul answered.

  When it was David’s turn to sign, Brandon had him show off his basketball dribbling skills as the crowd roared.

  Like a true team player, David invited Jay back upfront to show off his skateboard moves and Danielle to show off her soccer ball moves to excite the crowd again.

  Brandon loved it! Everything was going perfectly. But once the NYU models began to arrive, it was Leon’s turn to stress.