"Xavier, my man, I looked into it like you asked. The best way to get out of the international clause is to not be an international player. Boston already has their twenty percent, and you're not eligible for trade until March. If you want to be with the Buzzards for pre-season, this is the way."
I hate this way.
"That's assuming Boston even wants me."
"They do. I heard from both the front office and Bjorn. Bjorn's the one who came up with this plan."
"So all I have to do is become an American citizen?" Saying the words leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. It's like cheating on a spouse or selling your family's secret to the competition. I'm being disloyal to my own country. My stomach roils.
On the other hand, if my own country hadn't all but booted me out, I wouldn't be in this position. I'd be happily playing in Bristol and representing England in the Global Games.
"Yup. That's all you have to do. Easy as pie." The smooth edge of Tony's voice, even through the phone, makes me wonder if he's up to something dodgy.
"How easy?" I seem to recall there's been some increased restrictions on immigration in this country over the past several years. Christ, am I really considering becoming an immigrant?
"You've been here five years, right? You have a green card. That's all you need to be a naturalized citizen."
I close my eyes. "I do have a green card." I was eligible under the clause that states I have "extraordinary abilities" in the area of employment, which in my case was athletics. "But I've only had it for four years."
"Shit. When is it five?"
"It was just four in September."
"That sucks." I hear him typing away. "Let me do some more research. But are you on board with this?"
No. "Perhaps. I need to think on it."
Even after disconnecting, that sick feeling stays in my stomach. I need to talk to someone about this. My agent isn't in a position to give me unsolicited advice. He's only going to tell me to do what makes him the most money. And if I know him, or his type, he'll be negotiating a large salary increase for me, which is cash in the bank for him.
I reach for my phone and text Alastair.
Me: My agent wants to work on a trade deal.
Alastair: For the spring?
Me: For now.
I'm not surprised when my phone immediately rings. "How's that supposed to work?" Alastair doesn't even bother with a greeting.
"He wants me to apply for US citizenship."
I hear him exhale. "Damn, that's bloody brilliant."
"You don't think it's selling out?"
"Of course it's selling out, but that's the business we're in. Do you think I really like Pro-Energy Pro-Bars? They taste like bloody wood. But they pay me to say they're delicious and not at all reminiscent of eating tree bark. That selling out paid for my car."
"I know but …"
"No buts. We're professional athletes. We've a short shelf life. Yours is even shorter because you managed to get yourself banned at home with that Phaedra mess. If you need to improve your career by moving to Boston, and if that means you become a US citizen, then do it. The Terrors are a death trap. We both know it."
"Does that mean what I think it means?"
"I'm heading back to Bristol."
"Bollocks. I mean, good for you, mate, but I'm not sure I can stay on the Terrors without you."
"Don't. Bjorn always believed in you. You know you'll get playing time with him. That's more than you can say for the Terrors."
