The chosen gathered and slapped hands and ribbed each other, all trying to appear calm and cool and not the least bit nervous or concerned with what team would call their names, make them rich, and launch their spectacular careers. Sooley sat between Arnie and Murray, who seemed even more jittery than his friend. Imagine just being in the same space with twenty guys his age all of whom were about to start signing big contracts, and some of whom would even become all-stars, even legends.
The first pick went to the Timberwolves and Adam Silver announced the name of Tyrell Miller of Duke. The Green Room exploded with applause as everyone congratulated the top pick. Tyrell posed with the Commissioner and smiled for the cameras.
The next four picks went exactly as projected. After the fifth, Arnie, who was watching it all without notes and with a pleasant cockiness, said to Darrell, “You’re next, big guy.”
Cleveland chose Darrell, and as he took the stage Arnie whispered to Sooley, “They’ll trade him tomorrow. To Indiana.”
Sooley had no idea how to respond. The draft, with its lottery picks and especially with its deal-making and trading, was at times incomprehensible. Each selection sent dominoes falling in different directions. When Phoenix took Antonio Long from San Diego State, Arnie whispered to Sooley, “You’re going to Detroit but they’ll trade you to Washington.”
“Now?”
“No, number nine! How does Washington sound?”
“Where do I sign?” Sooley instantly liked the idea of Washington because it was a city he’d actually seen. Except for the March trips to Dayton, Memphis, and Phoenix, he had never left the East Coast. Durham was not far away. The Walkers would be practically next door. He’d seen the campus at Howard, the South Sudanese embassy, some of the monuments. Yes, Washington would work just fine.
When his name was called as the ninth pick, he stepped onto the stage, and some fans in the crowd began chanting, “Sooley! Sooley! Sooley!”
* * *
·?·?·
As his players partied in the big city, Arnie worked well into the night on the trades that sent Darrell Whitley to the Indiana Pacers and Sooley to the Washington Wizards. At seven the following morning, he had breakfast with Washington’s GM and ironed out the contract, a four-year deal worth $14 million, with half guaranteed.
* * *
·?·?·
Flying home, Sooley decided he needed a break from South Beach. He got off the plane with Murray at Raleigh-Durham and said goodbye, and thanks, to Arnie and Reynard. From the sleek Falcon they walked through the private terminal to the parking lot, and to Murray’s little blue pickup truck that was so old the odometer had stuck at 220,000 miles. The automated parking meter demanded $18 on a credit card, and Sooley happily paid.
Driving away, he asked, “Did you hear the part about the loan?”
“Not all of it. Arnie advances some money?”
“Yeah. I told Reynard I didn’t have a car and he said no problem. Arnie will loan me a hundred thousand now and I’ll pay him back in a month when the first check comes in.”
“Is that legal?”
“Reynard says it is. Says some agents loan players money long before the draft and that’s not exactly legal.”
“Yeah, that kid from Arizona State got caught a few years back, didn’t he? The NBA decertified the agent and he filed suit. It was a big scandal.”
“Well, Reynard says it’s okay now because I’m out of school and officially a pro. How do you like that?”
“Sounds okay. I guess we’re going car shopping, as soon as you pass the driver’s test.”
“Oh that. Look, Murray, here’s the deal. I need some help. I need to buy a car and find a place to live in D.C., right? I need to do a lot of things and they’re all pretty intimidating. I want you to help me out, at least for the rest of the summer.”
“You trying to hire me?”
“That’s it. Reynard offered to help but he’s a busy dude. And I trust you, Murray. What do you say?”
“How much?”
“Eight dollars an hour.” Both roared with laughter that went on and on, and when it died down they rode in silence for a while. The thrill, and disbelief, and giddiness of the past two days began to soak in.
Murray finally said, “You’ll have to convince Miss Ida. She won’t like it.”
“I’ll bet she likes it a lot more now, with fourteen mil on the way. Plus, I can talk her into it. She thinks I’m special.”
“You are special, Sooley.”