Faking It(50)

Anyway, it’s not like I was going to do anything. I was just getting antsy.

It’s a terrible thing, to be strong and weak. Most people only know one or the other. I envy them sometimes. It’s harder to have a foot in both worlds.

Things came to a head with the sponsorships. That’s where the tipping point was. I had done a pretty good job of letting my agent handle things. There were always new deals, but not the ones you dream about when you’re getting into the game. There was enough to cover my bases and live a good life, but I wanted to be rolling in cash. I wanted a house like Mason’s. I wanted to be able to take Alyssa anywhere in the world at the drop of a hat. That kind of dough wasn’t there yet.

Then one day after a practice a guy in the nicest suit I had ever seen was outside. He was from Nike. Nike was the one everyone dreamed about, but so far they had limited most of their support to football and basketball players. It was one thing if you were a Michael Jordan or Kobe Bryant or Joe Montana. It was something else entirely if you were a fighter. Every single brawler in the organization could have had a Ph.D. in quantum theory and the media still would have treated us like we were ignorant thugs. And to be fair, there were plenty of those in the fight game as well.

Nike. Nike. As in “Just do it,” all the biggest names, all the biggest contracts…My pulse started racing immediately and for all I know my face was either showing panic or giddiness.

“Braden,” he said. “I’m James Baldwin from Nike. I’m buying you lunch. You’re going to want to say yes to this. And call me Jim.”

I already knew that. I wanted to say yes. I wanted to say yes yesterday. I didn’t even call my agent. James—excuse me, Jim—took me to a high-end restaurant where everyone addressed him by name. He took us to a private room in the back and laid out a deal that surpassed anything I ever could have dreamed of. I thought of Han Solo saying, “I don’t know, I can imagine quite a bit,” when Luke was trying to lure him into helping them with a promise of riches from Princess Leia. I, too, thought I could have imagined quite a bit. Not like this, though. Not even close. The whole thing was kind of like an out of body experience. Astral projection, a symptom of untold riches shoved into my face.

By the end of that lunch—I don’t even know what to call it, there were maybe nine courses and two bottles of wine—I had signed on the proverbial dotted line and we were in business. Big business. If I could keep improving and doing my thing, I was going to set for life. More than set.

Maybe I would buy a Scottish palace for Alyssa. Wrap it up in a bow two miles wide. Maybe a car. Maybe one of each kind of car. I could buy her an island. Maybe even a small planet. She could rule over it at her whim, a sexy intergalactic leader whose people would cheer for her in the streets. Maybe that was going a little too far, but it thrilled me that my thoughts went to her first, to all the things I could give her once this happened.

As soon as the lunch was over I called her, desperate to share the news. She didn’t answer. About two minutes after that I got a message from James Baldwin, my new favorite man at Nike, asking if I could swing by a company party that night. He said there would be some business happening there, but he also wanted to use the night to introduce me to the Nike team.

“Braden, it’s time to see where you belong. You’ll have a good night and you’ll be the star of the show.” I was sure that he said this to all of his clients. I was also sure that he delivered on the promise with all of his clients.

Why the hell not? Surely I deserved a little celebration. It didn’t mean I had to drink, or party, or do anything that I hadn’t been doing. It’s not like I was going to show up at a hotel and go totally off the deep end. Self-control was my middle name since I met Alyssa. It’s not like this was going to hit the reset button for me.

Famous last words. My middle name wasn’t going to save me.

I spent the rest of the day training like a maniac and waiting for a message from Alyssa that never came. My focus wasn’t what it should have been, but I had a lot on my mind. Mason noticed. Of course, he did. When I told him the news he picked me up around the waist and swung me around like we were in a musical. “I am so proud of you.” He said it over and over and I couldn’t get enough of it.

He also gave me all the boilerplate warnings. With great fame/money comes great temptation/power/responsibility, et cetera. He reminded me that, now more than ever, it was time to get my head right and keep it there. He was right, and he didn’t even know the half of it.

“Nike, everyone!” Mason was yelling his head off. He waved all the other guys going and gave a speech about me and my work ethic and my willingness to buckle down and listen when it was time. I was now a shining beacon of hope for all poor, borderline-starving fighters. “Money isn’t everything, but it sure as hell isn’t nothing!”

I accepted the handshakes and backslaps and semi-jokes about buying houses for all of them and paying for their gym memberships.

I hit the showers and kept fighting the kinds of fits of the giggles that I hadn’t had since that first night with Alyssa. Oh my God, the money. But better than that, the freedom that would come with it. The endless amount of choices I would have!

After I was cleaned up I called my mom and told her. She was quiet at first. “That’s amazing, honey,” she finally said.

“Mom, what’s wrong?” Normally she would have yelled for Janie to come over to put it on speaker. “Is something wrong with Janie?”