Chapter 1
“We’ll be ready to launch in three months,” Jatoria Starks, the business consultant I hired, declared.
I thrust my fist in the air at that pronouncement as the others clapped and nodded their approval.
“Anything else? I have a hard stop in two minutes, and I have to rush to the other side of town for another meeting.”
“That should do it for me,” Mariska Shields, my accountant, professed.
“Yeah, I’m good too,” Demetri Farmer, one of my business partners, confirmed.
“I’ve got everything that I need,” Gabriel Stringer, my other business partner, agreed.
“Perfect. I’ll be in touch with you all before the next meeting,” Jatoria stated.
“All right. I’ma get up with y’all later. I gotta head out to another meeting on the other side of town too,” I announced.
I stood from the table and shook hands with Gabriel Stringer and Demetri Farmer, an investment banker and a retired college coach, both of whom were investing with me to create a sports management business, Unleashed Athletes Group.
I dapped the men up, shook hands with Jatoria and Mariska, and headed to my truck knowing that my sports agent, Amélie Devereaux, was right on my ass.
As soon as I cleared the building, I unlocked the truck and opened the door.
Titan, my four-year-old cane corso, bounded across the seat and jumped down at my side.
I had left the windows down far enough for him to get fresh air, but up high enough not to allow anyone to steal him or the truck.
But I wasn’t worried about anyone stealing his mean ass.
“Ash, you’re always about your business. Who are you rushing off to meet?” Amélie asked, grabbing the driver’s side door of my truck to prevent me from hopping inside and closing the door. She leaned inside, all five feet and one inch of her, and stared me in the eyes, daring my ass to lie to her.
I might have been six feet and five inches and weighing 225 pounds, but I didn’t fuck with Amélie. Her feisty, short ass didn’t take anything off any of her athletes, and when she said something, she meant that shit.
I fidgeted with the zipper of my coat before I tugged it up and crossed my arms over my chest. Staring down at her, I replied, “Chanel.”
“As in Chanel Dubois?”
“I don’t know another one.”
“Chanel Dubois, the sports journalist?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Remember when I told you that I might be doing an interview about my career with Legendary Sports Magazine? Well, it’s with her.”
“Damn it. How didn’t I make the connection? I forgot she wrote for them. Be careful around her.”
“Why?”
“She’s got a hard-on for an interview with you the size of Mt.
Rushmore, and she’s a ruthless reporter who is willing to do anything to get a story.
I don’t trust anything those sports journalists promise, and especially not her.
She’s looking for a big story, and right now, your life is a bit complicated.
Don’t give her meat to chew on, and she won’t return, looking for a bone. ”
“Chanel and I are cool. We’ve done interviews in the past, and she has always been respectful.”
“Be careful. The last thing you need is to fall into her trap. God knows she uses her looks and body to lure unsuspecting athletes into her web.”
“I expect more from you, Amélie.”
“What?”
“You’re hating on another sister handling her business. You of all people know that this is a male-dominated industry, and we don’t make it easy for women at all.”
“It won’t stop her from using her assets to get the story she wants.”
“You’re underestimating my intelligence as though I can’t sniff out game.”
“I’m just saying that I don’t trust her.”
“Your ass is suspicious of everyone, Amé.”
“Of course, I am. That’s my job, and even more so now with shit out of control in your life.”
“You let me worry about that part, and you keep those endorsements and contracts right.” I jerked the door free from her hand, but she immediately gripped the partially open window.
“Don’t fuck up, Ashton. Because the last thing I have time for is beating someone’s ass over you. You’re barely able to keep me on a leash about Zoe,” she stated, pointing at me.
I rolled my eyes at the mention of my wife, Zoe “Muffin” Santoro.
She was a serious fucking thorn in my side, and years ago, nobody could have ever told me that she would become that.
Besides basketball, loving that girl in high school was the highlight of my life.
Hell, even six years ago, I wouldn’t have believed she was capable of the trifling shit she had done.
As much as I wanted to blame that ratchet group of women she now ran with, she was responsible for her choices.
She had a leash on me, and I wanted her to release me. I needed her to be the one to walk away, because otherwise, I would feel like a failure if I were the one who walked. But she would not. It had finally been up to me to cut the collar so I could get the peace that I so desperately needed.
I pulled out of the lot and lowered Titan’s window so that he could stick his head out. I pressed the button to start up my system in the car. Mak D was rapping about being on top of the world, and I was feeling the exact opposite of that.
“Thank you so much for granting me this interview. The magazine wanted to do a series of them titled ‘On the Road to Retirement.’ There are rumors circulating that you’re not going to retire, but you’re just moving into another facet of the industry,” Chanel remarked before she forked a piece of steak into her mouth.
My stomach knotted briefly when she said the word “rumors.”
“I have plans that will keep me connected to the industry. My parents weren’t happy with my decision to go into professional basketball straight out of high school, and they pushed for me to go to college.
I finally did after the first six years, and I earned my B.A.
in Sports Psychology from CSU. It’s time for me to put that to use. ”
“Let’s get into it.”
I nodded, and she asked me a few questions that helped me relax. Although Chanel had interviewed me through the years, those interviews were usually courtside, immediately after a game, in the locker room, or press conferences.
I had never had a one-on-one sit-down with her before, and I heard rumors that she could be vicious when it came to getting a story. I suspected that was what the warm-up questions were for. Even though I was relaxed, I was still on guard.
“How do you handle pressure on the court?”
“It’s all about how I prepare for a game and my unity with the team.
Before every game, I pray and sometimes during the games.
I trust the Almighty to provide what I need to make it through.
The rest of it is a combination of elite skills, my passion and enthusiasm for the game, my courage to face whatever challenge comes up, and my determination to rise above the pressure, and enable my team to pull off the win, or at least know we left it all on the floor. ”
“I’ve seen you praying. I’ve seen you sitting on the sidelines with your lips moving or looking up at the ceiling. You’ll close your eyes, give a brief head nod or fist pump, and then you jump right back into it.”
I chuckled. “Damn, you paying a brother attention like that?”
She sat back, fluttered her eyelashes, and tossed a flirty smile my way.
“The game is intense, Ashton. I pay all the players attention, especially those who stand out and do what it takes to handle their business out there. You’ve always been one of those guys,” she professed softly with an intimate smile.
“Thank you. It feels good to be seen.”
“You’re definitely seen, brother. As with any career in any industry, there will be victories and challenges.
You’ve played thirteen hundred games, averaged twenty points per game, four rebounds per game, and four assists per game.
You have five rings. What sacrifices have you made on the road to your success? ”
I chuckled. “It depends on who you ask. My mother would say that I sacrificed my college education early on and that I assuaged my guilt by returning to college later. My papà would say that I sacrificed a career in the family business for celebrity status.”
She laughed. “Wait. Your father isn’t proud of the career you have accomplished? What father wouldn’t be proud of the success you’ve attained?”
Growing serious, I folded my arms on the table and leaned forward.
“Let me tell you something. Never let it be said that my parents aren’t proud of what the fuck I do.
They’re very proud of me, but they also aren’t superficial.
They couldn’t care less about my status, possessions, or any of that shit.
They only care about their family being close. ”
“I’ll strike that part of the comment.”
“What part?”
“The cursing,” she stated boldly, meeting my gaze.
“That’s on you,” I replied with a shrug.
“I just want to be clear, because I don’t generally edit the responses in my interviews, but I also don’t include cursing.”
She asked me a few more questions about my career, memorable games, and players I have played with and against. After we finished discussing my future plans, the conversation took a turn.
“A couple of more questions. You were traded from the Raptors to the Pumas after several back-to-back losing seasons. The Raptors won the championship the next year without you, and then three years later as a Puma, you guys had a three-peat. Why do you think the Raptors won after you left?”
“Chemistry. We had a lot of good, raw talent, but we also had a lot of hotheads and people jockeying for status. We were young and hungry, but we lacked maturity. Trading Dru Stovall, Rome Griffin, Blair Banks, and me was the best decision. We all went on to have stellar careers, to get at least one ring, and we all had the right chemistry with our new teams. I can’t be mad. ”