First Round Lottery Pick by Franklin White Page B

his new agency.
    I told Toy to leave me and Jalen alone while we looked things over. I took my time reading the contract, which was thorough and had all kinds of restrictions, like being associated with drugs and any criminal activity, which would automatically terminate my contract.
    â€œSo what you thinking, L ?” Jalen wanted to know as he paced around Toy’s office, looking at certificates and diplomas on his wall.
    â€œMan, it’s right here on paper. They want me to pimp their brand, Jalen. Photo shoots for magazines, lace them up on the court if I want. And there’s a bonus if the product takes off and I decide to sign on the clothing line they are going to have off the ground after next season. What do you think?”
    â€œI think you should sign then”—Jalen looked into the party—“But after three years, L , I want to get you away from this slimy-ass Toy. I mean, I don’t trust him, and I damn sure don’t like the fact that somebody came to him to tell us where Tori was.”
    â€œTrue that.” I put my arm around Jalen. “But we got her back now. And after I sign this and my contract to play ball, we don’t even have to take his calls. We’ll just string him out.”
    â€œUnless he comes through big again,” Jalen said.
    â€œExactly. Then we’ll just cash the check.”
    â€œAnd string his ass out a li’l more.”
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    It was like two in the morning when I finished reading the contract. Toy said he didn’t care and called his old roommate then faxed the signed contract back to him. Toy put him on the phone. I vaguely remembered his name when he played basketball. He averaged nine points a game but was more interested in business than basketball during his playing days.
    I felt good about signing after talking to him. He at least brought a little cred to Toy’s crooked ass.
    The party was still going strong after we sent the fax. Everyone was having a good time, and by the time I looked around, Jalen had him a plate of food.
    For a long time I was used to being the center of attention of peeps my age, but this was different. I was standing amongst grown folk fifteen, twenty years older celebrating what had happened to me, and it felt good.
    All of a sudden Toy asked everyone to gather around in a circle around me.
    â€œListen up. I know I’m a little bit drunk. Okay, you’re right, I’m tore up. But this feels good, don’t it? This is special because a lot of people have played ball that we know, especially us being old heads now. We’ve had a few pro players. There have been so many who never had the chance, but if given the right grooming and opportunity would have made it to the league, just like Langston Holiday is going to do. So, saying all that, I want to pay homage to the ballplayers who have went on to the pros and those who have laid the legacy down in Columbus of fine ballplayers, you know, the brothers who have given us the chance to see the best basketball in the country. So, what I would like to do is just go around the room and everybody just hold up your glasses and let’s salute whoever comes to your mind who brought heat on the courts in our city. The ballplayers that we know and love that have paved the way for my man Langston Holiday to become what he is today.”
    Everything was quiet, except for was a funky jazz tune playing by Miles Davis. I heard Toy mention some homie named Foley, the bass player making it come to life like there was no tomorrow. Toy pointed to the first person to his right, and everyone just started naming legends of the city who could all ball.
    Hearing all the names brought back to memory stories I had heard coming up, and I became choked up. It gave me another reason to promise myself I would not let their legacy down, because it lived through me.
    The first person said, “Dewey Milton.”
    The next said, “Gregg