The Big Time

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

TROY APPROACHED THE YELLOW rope, his heart swelling with pride. Gramps and his mom said if his father truly wanted a relationship, he wouldn't give up; and showing up on the Falcons' sideline certainly wasn't giving up. It wasn't a lawsuit, but to Troy it looked good enough to count for that "first move" his mom had spoken about.

"Let me introduce you and your friends," Troy's dad said, dipping under the rope and tugging G Money along with him, leaving the scary guy behind.

A security guard in a yellow Windbreaker hollered and headed their way. Troy's dad wore a trim double-breasted suit with a shiny blue tie. His hair had been styled with gel, and on one of his wrists he wore a slim gold watch that glittered with diamonds. He looked slick.

"Sir," the security guard said, "I'm sorry but-"

"Relax," Troy's dad said smoothly. "I'm with G Money. I'm his lawyer. This is my son, the football genius everyone's talking about. His mom's the PR director. We're good."

The security guard looked at G Money's smile and blinked at the shiny gold grille on his teeth. He nodded his head and backed away.

"Dad, she's not the PR director," Troy said under his breath.

His dad waved a hand as if he were shooing flies and said, "Your buddies from last night, right? Kids, this is G Money. I'm his personal lawyer. I do all his deals, right, G?"

"You're my homey, Drew," G said, bumping fists. "And I heard about you, little man, helping my team. I grew up about three blocks from this stadium. Love the Falcons, so you rock."

Troy bumped fists with the famous rapper, using his left hand because of his hurt finger. Jimmy Cribbs, the team photographer, appeared from nowhere and said, "Mr. Money, how about a picture with you and Troy? A music genius and a football genius, both huge Falcons fans."

"You got it," G said, slinging his arm around Troy.

Troy's dad got into the picture on the other side of G, winked at Troy, and gave him a thumbs-up. Troy beamed with pride as the camera flashed, and he asked if his friends could get in a picture as well.

"For sure," Troy's dad said. "G loves kids, don't you, G."

"You the man, Drew," G said.

Drew put his arm around Troy and steered him off to the side a bit so he could speak privately into Troy's ear. "You hear that? See, I do everything important for him-his contracts, his investments, all his deals. When you're big-time like G, there are about a billion people coming at you from about a million different directions. It's not easy, believe me."

"So you're, like, his agent?" Troy asked.

"Agent?" Drew said, touching fingertips to his chest. "Don't insult me."

"Sorry," Troy said.

His dad laughed, mussed Troy's hair, and said, "Agents are cheese balls, salesmen. I told you, G's big-time. The big-time people all have lawyers. That's me."

"Wow," Troy said, feeling silly after the word got loose. "Last night, it sounded like you wanted to see me."

"I do," Drew said. "I'm your father."

Troy's whole body tingled at the sound of the word.

"I probably shouldn't be telling you this," Troy said, glancing around to make sure no one could hear. "You have to sue her."

"What?" his father asked.

"Sue her," Troy said in an urgent whisper. "A lawsuit. If you do, she'll let me see you."

"That's what she said?" his father asked with a look of disbelief.

"She wants you to prove you're serious," Troy said, "but I know you are. I know because you're here. You came to see me, right?"

"Of course," his dad said, showing Troy his empty palms. "G's got the keys to the city, but I was the one who pushed him to come here today because I knew he could get us passes. But tell me, why did you ask about agents? I'm curious."

Pride bubbled up in Troy's chest. "I've got agents who want to represent me."

"Agents?" his dad said. "For what?"

Troy's smile faltered. "Well-didn't you hear? This football genius thing. They say I could get-I don't know-millions for it."

"Millions?" his father said, rubbing his chin. "I don't know about that."

Troy glanced around, lowered his voice, and said, "The Falcons are paying me ten thousand a week right now."

"That's great," his father said, but with enthusiasm that was obviously forced. "Good for you, Troy. I bet you pay your share of the grocery bills with that."

"I want to buy my mom a car," Troy said, frustrated, "and one day a house in Cotton Wood."

"Cotton Wood?" his dad said, chuckling. "In G's neighborhood?"

"Well," Troy said, "one day. Yes."

"Uh," his dad said, looking past Troy and angling his head, "speaking of your mother? Here she comes."