Chapter 38 #2
“Why him specifically?” I ask.
“Probably for the same reason you are, at least in part. He’s the most promising prospect in his class,” Bruce says. “Which makes him the most interesting investment opportunity.” He pauses. “And I find the Whitman family interesting. I like to keep track of what they produce next.”
Now I just have more questions. But I’m low on rent, and it feels like Bruce Granger just dropped into my lap.
“What kind of incentive?” I say instead.
“Keep tabs on him. Report back. Development updates, anything that affects his investment picture. Convince him that he can’t do this without you. Extra money coming in from me will give you the freedom to search out those amazing opportunities for him. That’s all,” he says. “For now.”
I don’t have to think long.
“I can do that,” I say.
“Good,” Bruce says. “I’ll make the first deposit this week. Is cash okay?”
“Uh, sure.”
“Great. Meet me at Nina’s in St. Paul on Friday morning at ten. I’ll give it to you then.”
“Okay.”
“Good,” he says again. “Keep watching the Whitman kid. And Daniel, don’t reach out to him again yet. Let him settle into school next fall. Let him think you’ve moved on.” A pause. “The ones who think they don’t need you are always more grateful when they finally decide they do.”
I write that down. “Got it.”
“Talk soon,” Bruce says, and hangs up.
Three years later
I’m at a University of Minnesota game on a Tuesday night in February because that’s what I do—I show up. I’ve been showing up for two years consistently, being someone Tully Whitman trusts.
I’ve been patient. Mostly. This is the long game, I remind myself daily.
Minnesota wins by four. The scouts froth at the mouth over Tully, and I think, Too late. He’s already mine.
Whatever else I’ve agreed to in the dark recesses of my mind, my belief in Tully Whitman as a hockey player is completely clean. He is the most talented kid I’ve ever watched, and I am going to make a significant amount of money from that talent.
I’m at the tunnel when he comes out. He sees me and he smiles, believing I am one of the good ones. I don’t feel bad that I’ve done some shady things in this career now, because I do believe in him, and I will work hard for him.
“Hey,” he says. “I actually wanted to talk to you.”
“Yeah?”
He nods. “I know it’s not gonna be easy, being a free agent.
I’m hearing from some of my friends who were drafted, and I don’t regret going this route, but…
I’m going to need someone really good in my corner.
Someone who knows the market and knows how to position me and who I actually trust.” He looks at me.
“You’ve shown up when you didn’t have to. You never pushed.”
I think about Bruce telling me not to push.
“That’s just how I operate,” I say.
The lies fall out of my mouth easier than they did a few years ago.
“I know,” Tully says. “That’s why I want you. When I’m done with school, you’re my agent. If you still want to be by then.”
I look at this kid. He’s twenty now. Six foot three. He’s matured a lot in the past two years I’ve been advising him. Being a free agent means the negotiating leverage is entirely in the relationships and the pitch, which means he needs someone excellent. He knows that, and he’s chosen me.
I feel a swell of pride and extend my hand.
The money this kid is going to make will be extraordinary.
The money I am going to make from this kid will be extraordinary.
“Consider me your agent,” I say. “Absolutely…when the time comes.” I wink.
He shakes my hand.
“I know you’ll do right by me,” he says.
“That’s what I’m here for,” I say.
Three weeks later, Bruce Granger takes me to dinner. We talk about Tully like we always do.
“Good,” Bruce says. “We knew he’d choose you, but it’s good to have that verbal commitment. When he graduates and you start working together in earnest, I’m going to need more from you than intelligence reports.”
I look at him. “More what?”
He picks up his wine. “I need you to manage his career in a specific direction,” he says. “Contract negotiations. Endorsement deals. The decisions that shape a career over time. I need those decisions to serve a particular outcome.”
“What do you mean?” I say.
He looks at me. “I need Everett Whitman’s son to understand,” he says, “that the world is not as hospitable as his father has led him to believe.”
I go still. “What do you mean?”
“Old family,” Bruce says. “Old money. Old confidence.” He takes a drink. “People like that move through the world like the rules are suggestions. Like consequences are for other people.”
Something flashes across his face just enough that I know this is not business at all. This is something more personal and considerably more dangerous than I knew.
“I find that confidence worth addressing,” he adds.
“By mismanaging his son’s career.”
“By managing it toward my interests,” Bruce says. “Which is what you were always going to do, Daniel.”
He says it lightly. All I can see is the kid who shook my hand three weeks ago and said I know you’ll do right by me.
But I knew there was more to this, didn’t I? With every deposit fattening my bank account, I knew there was more to this.
“What did Everett Whitman do to you?” I ask.
Bruce looks at me for a long moment. “That,” he says pleasantly, “is not part of our arrangement.”
I look at my plate. I think about walking away. I think about what walking away would look like—the money that would stop coming in, the consulting fees that looked like one thing and turned out to have been something else entirely.
But wait a minute. I can manage this from the inside. I can take Bruce’s money and protect Tully if I’m careful. I have more control than Bruce thinks because I’ll actually be in the room with Tully making the decisions when the time comes.
“What would managing his career in your direction look like?” I ask.
“The long game, remember? We’ll go over that in more detail later. Your dinner’s getting cold.” He grins.
And then Lola comes into Tully’s life.
I don’t like her. She looks at me with those light eyes, and I have to hide a shiver.
She threatens to undo everything I’ve done, simply because Tully loves her.
At first, I think this crush will pass, but he’s barely known her when he tells me he loves her.
He comes to practice exhausted, he’s distracted, and it just cannot happen now—not when this is the most critical time to set up his future career.
If he’s not playing at the top tier now, everything I’ve assembled all these years will become worthless.
Bruce and I are finally in full agreement, albeit for completely different reasons.
Bruce simply wants to make the Whitmans bleed.
But Tully Whitman is the player who will change my career for life—he’s that good—and I will do whatever it takes to keep him. I won’t let anyone or anything stand in the way of the money that’s mine. I’ve sacrificed too much to let that happen.