The Big Time

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

" SURE," JOHN SAID. "I lost my own dad when I was six, so I know what it's like at the end of a ball game and he's not there. So, if I could've gotten him back? You better believe he'd have been my agent, not that I needed one. I didn't play past college."

"You played?" Troy said.

"Syracuse University," John said with a grin. "Mostly a long snapper, but I wore the colors. Anyway, you keep that card. I'm not out running around looking for clients. Would I love to represent you? Sure. You got some special talent, and I'm betting this genius thing is only the beginning. From what Seth says, you'll be a player yourself if you stay healthy, but I don't recruit clients anymore. My law practice keeps me busy, and I get enough clients who come to me. I just came today because of Seth. He's a great guy, and he cares a lot about you. You need some advice sometime, you just call me."

John Marchiano turned to go.

"Mr. Marchiano," Troy said before John got out the door. "Do you think it's a good idea? I mean, my dad represents some big-time people, so he'll be good at this, right?"

"Call me John. Your dad will be great," John said, then his face became sober. "But you should never do business with family."

Troy rumpled his brow and tilted his head. "That doesn't make sense. Which is it?"

"Both," John said. "Your dad will do a great job with your deal. I have no doubt. You're right, G Money is in the big time, so your dad obviously knows his stuff. But, in the end, you'll regret it. Not because of the deal. I'm sorry. I can't lie to you. Agents make a lot of money, and a good one has to tell his client things the client doesn't like to hear. That's tough enough anyway, and family businesses are always a huge challenge. I've seen it before: a father representing his son. No, it never works out."

Troy frowned.

"But maybe you'll be different, Troy," John said cheerfully. "There's a first for everything, right?"

Troy studied John Marchiano's face, searching for the signs of the kind of trickster who would try to talk him out of working with his dad. But try as he might, all Troy saw was a friendly smile, and he knew instinctively that John Marchiano was speaking the truth as he knew it. Still, Troy wasn't about to let go of his dream of having a dad fully involved in his life.

"You have to dare to be different, right?" Troy said.

John gave him a short nod and said, "If you're the daring type, then you're right."

"I am," Troy said. "That's part of being a quarterback, too. You have to take chances sometimes to win the really big games."

"Yes, you do. Just don't throw an interception on the goal line. Good luck, Troy," John said, and he turned to go.

Troy followed the agent out into the living room. His mom and Seth looked up from where they sat on the couch.

"It's settled," Troy said. "Mr. Marchiano even says my dad's got what it takes to do this deal. If he represents G Money, he obviously knows his stuff."

John stopped in the middle of the floor and said, "I also told you that it's tough to do business with family."

Seth stood up and, with a pained expression, he said, "John, I'm really sorry I brought you out here."

John held up his hand. "Don't be. I'm glad I got the chance to meet Troy and talk to him. And he's got my card now in case he changes his mind."

Troy's mom stood, her back rigid, and said, "Troy's twelve, John, so this isn't necessarily the final word. He and I will be discussing this."

"Honestly, Tessa?" John said. "I meant it when I said Troy's the client. I know he's only twelve, but he acts a lot older, and this really is about him. I'm not trying to stick my nose in, but you might want to listen to him. If he wants his father to represent him, it's not like the man isn't qualified. I'm sorry; I know that's not what you or Seth wanted to hear from me, but I just finished telling Troy that a good agent sometimes has to say things his clients don't want to hear. Seth, I'll call you."

They all shook hands with John, thanking him before they followed him out. Troy got the door, pulling it open and gasping at the sight of a greasy-haired man with a pinched, angry face struggling up the final step. The man stood slouched over in a faded black suit coat, his age-spotted hands hanging at his sides.

The man wiped some sweat from his brow and narrowed his eyes, staring through the doorway at Troy's mom.

"Are you Tessa White?" he asked.

Troy's mom wrinkled her face and asked, "Who in the world are you?"