10. Avery
AVERY
THE NEXT DAY
“This is ridiculous. Rawley was literally walking me to the Lyft. He even went back into the bar.”
I should probably be more circumspect in talking about this in public, but there’s only two other tables occupied in the diner, and they’re far enough away that I feel confident the other customers can’t hear me vent.
“I know, it’s so dumb,” Sarah says sympathetically before taking a bite of her eggs.
She texted me ninety minutes ago when I was in the middle of a meltdown over the @socialscoops “article” that they’d posted on their social media accounts, along with the video those women took.
SARAH: I saw everything. Don’t freak. Come have breakfast with me before practice.
I’m relieved to have Sarah to talk to. My mom’s not a big social media person and didn’t get how viral the article was, or why I was so irritated.
“Aves, you know this is part of the deal,” Mom had said. “Gossip will come and go, just block it out.”
And then my delightful sister Remy, the Queen Bee of UConn gossip, had texted me asking for details.
Not exactly helpful. Several of the other ladies back at school had done the same. I’m on the verge of sending a mass denial of the story in the UConn team group chat.
So I took Sarah up on her invitation.
Our friendship is years in the making. It started my sophomore year when she hosted me down here in Orlando for a weekend as my assigned UConn “Alumni mentor.” Then during the intense two years fighting for NCAA titles and navigating the draft, she was great at providing advice when I needed someone who understood it all.
Our personalities couldn’t be more different, but it works. She gets the pressure and scrutiny I face, and always encourages my ambitions without an agenda—she’s in the thick of all the same dynamics in her career.
I stick a fork in my pancakes, cutting out a bite. “It’s not that I care what they say. It’s just annoying to know I’ll have to answer questions about it.”
“That’s not hard. Just tell people the truth.”
“Yeah, I guess.” She’s calming me down already.
“Besides, Rawley has always seemed like a good guy to me, even with the negative press he’s gotten. It could be someone a lot worse.”
“True.” I can’t disagree with that either.
“Obviously, he’s super good-looking too. It seemed like you guys were chatting a lot.” There’s a trace of curiosity in her voice. “Forget the article, are you sure there’s nothing there?”
I dart my eyes around the diner again, deciding we’re safe to keep talking. Still, I keep my voice low.
“I can’t deny he’s hot. He’s physically exactly my type.”
“Oh?” Her eyes widen slightly.
I pause, debating whether to go down this road in our conversation. Sarah’s boyfriend is a pro tennis player, so I’m not sure she’s going to understand my reasoning.
On the other hand, she’s one of a few friends I genuinely trust, and now that we’re teammates, she’s inevitably going to find out about my dating life.
“I haven’t told you this before, but yeah, I don’t date athletes.”
She crinkles her brow. “Why?”
I sigh. “It’s not a pretty story. In high school, I dated this guy on the men’s team for over two years, and from the outside it looked perfect. My parents loved him, he was the most popular guy at school, all of that.”
Sarah looks like she’s bracing for the “but” that’s coming. My own chest tightens at having to say the words out loud.
“It turns out he was sleeping with a cheerleader at the same time and saying horrible things behind my back.”
It was my cousin Wells who told me, and it was the worst conversation of my life.
“I’m so sorry Aves, but I can’t keep this from you. I heard Topher talking shit in the locker room today. About you…”
I freeze, paralyzed. Things have felt off, but I couldn’t put my finger on why.
“Tell me, I need to know.”
He looks pained. “He was calling you a cold bitch. And he…he said he’d been…hooking up Lisa White on the side for months. I’m so sorry, I fucking hate this.”
My heart and my body crumple as I slide down the wall by my locker. He doesn’t look done—I can tell Wells is holding stuff back, trying to protect me.
“What else?”
“He said he was only…sleeping with you because of Uncle Paul. To get closer to him.”
I’m going to throw up. We’d been having sex for over a year, and he was my first.
“Initially, I didn’t do anything because he’s so much bigger than me.”
I get it; Wells is only fifteen to Topher’s eighteen. Plus Topher is six foot six.
“But the last thing was the final straw. I told him to shut the fuck up and was ready to kick his ass before one of the other guys broke it up.”
The implications of what he just says clicks in.
“So other people heard? Everyone knows?” I say, my voice choked.
Wells looks heartbroken. “Yeah.”
And then I can’t hold it in. I start to cry, shaking with pain and embarrassment, right there in the hallway next to homeroom.
Sarah’s face falls when I reach the end of my story. “Oh, Avery, I’m so sorry. What an asshole.”
“It ruined my senior year.” I was so mortified I skipped almost every social event the rest of the year.
“God, I can’t believe you went through that. It must have been unbelievably hard.” Her face is filled with hurt for me.
“I’m fine now, really.” Because of my rule.
“Even so, I can see why you don’t want to go there again.”
“Honestly, it wasn’t just him. Being in our world, I’ve seen way too many athletes mess with women, using their status to sleep around, then ghosting after sex. I made my rule freshman year, once I saw college guys doing the same thing at UConn.”
“I get that. I do. It took me a while to trust Malcolm with all our time apart.”
We both eat for a minute in silence.
“Sorry to be such a downer,” I say finally.
“Nah, don’t apologize. That’s what friends are for.”
We resume eating, and the energy eventually relaxes from the intensity around my story. I decide to bring up the other item on my mind. Practice starts at noon, so we’re not in a rush.
“If I can do a massive pivot here, I was hoping to get your advice on something else.”
“Lay it on me.”
“My mom’s struggling to get my endorsement contracts pinned down where we think they should be.”
She looks stunned. “Your mom is still representing you?”
“Yeah, I thought maybe we could line up a few big deals before I have to start paying a team.” My goal is to build up a nest egg before I have to start forking out a percentage.
Her expression shifts to understanding. Even as a top WNBA star, under our current collective bargaining agreement, Sarah only makes around two hundred thousand dollars in salary from the Surge. Her millions have come from sponsorships and commercials.
“It’s a chicken and an egg scenario, isn’t it?” she observes. “So you don’t have a public relations rep to deal with this Rawley story either?” I shake my head. “Huh.”
“What are you thinking? Am I being stupid not getting help?”
“My first thought is it’s so unbelievably annoying that someone at your level even needs to worry about this.” Translation: a men’s player never would face these financial dynamics. My counterpart in the NBA draft signed a sixty-three-million-dollar contract coming off being the top pick.
“But, yes, if I were you, I would at least have conversations with possible candidates. On the PR side, I love my rep, Taylor. I can introduce you if you want?”
I need to talk this through with Mom, but I’m also leaning toward vetting some options. “Thanks, send me her number?”
“Sure.”
We’re getting close to finishing our breakfast, and after looking contemplative for a minute, Sarah steers the conversation to a new subject.
“I want to give you a heads-up about something. Teammate wise.”
“Okay. Everyone seems really great so far,” I observe diplomatically.
She nods, but her face doesn’t seem to agree.
“I want you to watch out for Katrina. She’s a little bitter about your potential move to being a starter instead of her, and…”
I’m not surprised to hear it’s Katrina she’s warning me about, but what could this even be? “And what?”
“She’s been talking some bullshit about you to some of the veterans, how you aren’t ready to start, and if you do, it’s only because of your last name.”
I feel myself get simultaneously pissed and motivated.
“Maybe I shouldn’t tell you this, because I don’t want you to get psyched out. A couple of us handled her nonsense and shut it down. But just, watch yourself.”
The insults do the opposite of psyching me out. They only fuel my determination to prove Katrina wrong with my play.
The fact is, I’ve been dealing with petty comments about being Paul Parker’s daughter almost my entire career, including within my own high school AAU team. Only at UConn was the environment safe from that kind of jealous sniping.
Of course, no one wants me to earn my place without any connection to Dad more than me.
“I will, thanks,” I say to Sarah, not having it in me to say more.
“And legit, ignore any crap like that. Coach Anker is fair, and when you start, it’ll be because it’s the right thing to do. You’re the best of your year, okay? We’re fucking lucky that the Surge could move up the draft to get you.”
“Thank you, Sar.” My irritation starts to ease as her affirmations penetrate my mind.
Once we’re done eating, we both make our way to practice, and I try to push our conversation out of my mind.
Annoyance prickles when I see Katrina, but I ignore her and pay attention to Coach Anker instead.
Now that we’re in season, practices are shorter and less intense. We start with a shootaround and some drills, and then break apart for individual training.
Do I still serve Katrina some side-eye once in a while? Yup.
But I also nail all my individual drills, remembering that the best revenge against shit-talkers is taking their spot. Or however the saying goes…
It’s only four when I get home to my townhouse, and knowing that with the endorsement situation it’s probably best to rip off the Band-Aid, I call Mom.
Reflecting on Dylan and Sarah’s advice, I lay everything out for her, suggesting we set up a call with Aiden as a possible agent and Taylor on the PR side.
To my shock, she sounds relieved.
“Sweetheart, you don’t know how happy I am to hear this.”
“Really?”
“Oh definitely. The most important thing to me is that you are in the best position possible. I’m your mom first, right? And they’re going to know how to do it better than me, as much as I wish I could do it all.”
I let out the breath I’ve been holding the whole day. “Thanks for understanding.”
“It’s going to be good for both of us. Honestly, I’ve been feeling so bad about not handling all these pieces the way you need.”
Her words awaken a new awareness of the pressure she’s been under with my business needs. Still, I value her opinion and know she’ll make sure my interests are protected.
“I’m glad this may take some of the burden off you then. Will you sit in on all the calls though? You’re going to catch things and think of questions I won’t.”
Her answer comes quick. “Yes, and I’ll even set up the calls. One less thing for you to manage.”
It’s only a day later that she’s able to organize the meeting.
When Mom reached out, Aiden had suggested we talk to him and Taylor at the same time. Apparently, they share many clients and Aiden thought it helpful that they would have the benefit of each other’s ideas.
At nine sharp on the following morning, we’re all on Zoom.
“Hi, Avery, so nice to meet you,” Taylor says as we’re connected. “I watched some of the game yesterday. You’re all looking great.”
Last night was our second regular-season game, another win. I’d shot four for six, again off the bench.
“Thank you. Nice to meet you too. And hi, Aiden, good to see you.”
“Glad to be here. I’m looking forward to seeing how I can help.”
Mom takes control of the conversation from there, laying out the feedback she’s gotten from the network via Kayla and the SkyHigh team. It’s not fun to hear that people think I’m too grumpy in public, or whatever was implied by the comments, but Taylor and Aiden need the information.
“And there’s the thing with Rawley Battle too, right?” Taylor asks when Mom’s done, and I see Aiden cock his head.
Annoyingly, it’s been forty-eight hours and the story has not died down. The video from that night is now all over social media, and people are taking stills of it to create their own posts.
“Yeah, that’s just gossip though,” Mom replies. “Right, Avery?”
“Right, there’s nothing to it.”
“Okay,” Taylor says, digesting that. “From a PR perspective, I can think of a few directions. We could play up the ‘badass female athlete’ energy, like I’ve done with Rori Reilly.”
That option feels good. “She’s so cool, and I could see that working for me.”
“Or we can find a way to soften up your image, make you feel more approachable—in a genuine way, I promise. We’d figure out what that looks like. Aiden, what are you thinking would help most?”
Aiden launches right in with the prompt. “Well, first of all, Mrs. Parker—”
“Sylvia, please.”
“Sylvia, I commend you for getting this far with SkyHigh. They’re notoriously prickly to deal with.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m going to be direct with you both, since you already know me via Dylan. I won’t play small with Avery’s options, and with the right strategy, I believe we could blow past WNBA player records and push for reaching the top of female athlete endorsement levels, period.”
“Seriously?”
He’s actually surprised me. His answer comes fast and loaded with confidence.
“Yes. Your game has to be there, and we need to take control of your public persona like Taylor’s suggesting, but yes. The WNBA is exploding in popularity, and I’d love to be the one to help break through the assumptions of what’s possible.”
“That sounds incredible.”
“We’re talking nine figures, not just eight.”
Right now, seven figures sounds great, so my head is spinning.
“Okay,” Mom says, a little breathless.
“And I’m not saying your family name doesn’t help, but we’d want your personal popularity to transcend beyond being Paul’s daughter. Right, Taylor?”
“Definitely.”
He’s speaking my language.
“That’s the approach I’ve taken with Dylan too. Anyway, as next steps, I can work with Taylor to create a few options, if you want us to collaborate? Then if you like what you hear, we can move forward with an official engagement. If you prefer to talk to us separately, we can do that too.”
“You guys collaborating sounds great,” I say, and Mom nods in agreement.
“Okay, we’ll get to work and circle back within a couple of days. You have a road trip coming up?”
“Yes, for four days.”
“We’ll try to catch up with you before then, if we can.”
After another minute of pleasantries, we’re off the Zoom.
Mom immediately calls me.
“Wow,” she says. “What just happened?”
“Seriously. Mind officially blown.”