Page 64 of Parker (Face-Off 1)


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I step to the side of Dante to see Shawn West, the center for the Los Angeles Clippers and one of the first clients I ever signed with DMG. He’s an inch or two shorter than Dante and dressed in his white, red, and blue uniform with the same white compression wrap he wears on his right arm for games.

“Westie, what are you doing here?” I ask, sidestepping around Dante to shake his hand.

Before he can answer, I spot Terrence Hopkins, one of my latest recruits, marching over toward us along with a handful of professional basketball players on my client list.

My mouth falls open even wider as I watch while the line continues, feeling as though it will never end, each of them wearing their uniforms and entering from the locker room entrance. The crowd inside the arena goes wild, clapping and screaming, as the players make their way toward me. As the guys exchange pleasantries with each other, I make my rounds and greet each of them, still stunned that they’ve shown up here to help me coach.

“How about we show these kids how it’s done?” Terrence says, his voice so deep, it’s hard not to pay attention when he speaks. “You ready to school these punks, Coach?” He slaps his big hand on my back, practically knocking the wind out of me, and motions to the men crowded around us.

Chris Spence elbows Terrence in the bicep and pushes his way between us. “We’ll see who you’re calling a punk when I’m wiping the floor with you.”

And that is the attitude that not only makes him one of the biggest shit talkers in the NBA, but also made me want to sign him the second I spotted him at a community college in South Dakota. I had heard about a player who locals were comparing to LeBron James and had to see for myself. I signed Chris before anyone could get to him, and he has been with me ever since.

I take the ball from Dante’s hands and walk out to the sideline at half-court. Cupping my hand around my mouth since I don’t have the microphone and have no idea where Jamie set it down last, I address the people in the stands, “I was going to start handing out the prizes, but before I do that, do you want to watch a quick pickup game first?”

Their screams reverberate throughout the building. I jokingly hold my hand to the back of my ear to tell them I can’t hear them, and the cheers get louder. I am still in awe that all my ballers are here. Rico and the rest of my team slip through the guys, jumping to slap each player’s hand.

“Coach!” Rico yells with his hands up in the air.

I pass him the ball that he catches, and he spins it on his index finger, showing off. This kid will no doubt be a star one day. He has the talent, drive, and confidence…and he has me. These kids and my players are my entire life.

The volume reaches a higher octave with cheers and more clapping, which I attribute to the crowd wanting us to start the game.

“All right, stop showboating, kiddo.”

I hold my palm up for him to pass the ball back, and he winks, throwing the ball too far to my right, forcing me to leap. My face slams into rock-hard muscle, and a big, strong hand clamps down on my shoulder to keep me from falling. The fabric in my hands is rough and orange, and…it’s a Flyers jersey.

My jaw just about hits the floor when I look up and into Alex’s gray eyes that appear bluer today. He presses the ball Rico threw to me against my chest, and I take it from him, stunned, as I step back.

“What are you doing here?” I am so confused.

But it’s not just Alex they are cheering for in the audience. Behind him, I spot several NFL, MLB, and NHL players and a golfer I signed long before he won a few PGA Tours. Each of them is making some form of acknowledgment to me. Kane and Donovan wave to me along with a few of the players from Alex’s team.

Mickey is last, and he strolls across the court, his eyes fixed on mine. For once, he’s not decked out in a thousand-dollar suit and tie. I almost laugh at the sight of Mickey in a basketball jersey, shorts, and sneakers. I have never seen him look so…comfortable. And relaxed. He flashes a rare smile and stops next to Kane with a young blonde woman at his side. She has a camera in her hand and a press badge around her neck.

“This means…” I glance at Alex and shake my head, bewildered. “You did it? Mickey is okay with us?”

He nods, a broad smile on his face that makes my insides melt. “Yep. All of your clients are here. I didn’t plan to highjack your camp, but it was hard enough to get all these guys’ schedules to line up with mine. I also thought it would be a nice surprise for the kids. There are bags of autographed stuff in the locker room that we plan to help you give out.”

I raise my hand to cover my mouth. “Alex, I knew you’d do it, but this…this means so much to me.”

He takes my hand from my mouth and rubs it between both of his before letting it drop to my side. “I know, baby. I even got the guys to donate money to Philly Clean in your name.”

He points to his left, and I follow his finger and see Carl Thompson, the Director of Donor Relations at Philly Clean, who is holding up one of those huge cardboard checks.

“One hundred thousand dollars,” I mutter, my words stuck in my throat. Fanning myself, I try

to hold back the tears. “Wow, Alex. I can’t believe you did all this for me. I don’t even know what to say. Thank you.”

“I got you something.” He removes a square robin’s-egg blue box from Tiffany & Co. from his pocket.

My breath catches for a second, and my heart is beating so fast, I can hear it in my ears, but then I realize it’s not the right shape to be an engagement ring. If he were to propose, I would say yes on the spot.

Alex opens the lid and reveals a white gold whistle with diamond chips. Engraved on one side is Charlotte, and the other side is Coach. “Do you remember when I told you that there was more than one side to a person?”

“Yes,” I choke out, almost in tears by his gesture. “You said that everyone knows Coach, but you wanted to know Charlotte.”

He takes the whistle from the box, lowers it over my head, and secures it in place around my neck, staring into my eyes. “You’re not just Coach anymore. It’s okay to be Charlotte sometimes. I fell in love with Charlotte.”

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