Lonnie made it as brief as possible. He said he had agreed to a four-year contract at Marquette and would be leaving town soon. He apologized for his departure, for leaving behind the guys he’d recruited, guys he loved, but such is the nature of the game. Everybody moves on; nothing remains the same.
He surprised them with the news that Jason Grinnell would be named as his successor. The players were visibly relieved to hear this. Not a word had leaked and there had been nothing online. Jason was popular with the players and had helped recruit most of them.
As his voice began to break, Lonnie thanked them for the great times they’d had together, and said he would always remember them. Then he wiped his eyes, smiled at them, and left the room in tears.
Jason Grinnell stood and took over the meeting.
* * *
·?·?·
Two days later, Sooley signed a contract with Arnie Savage and entered the NBA draft. Central promptly issued a statement. No one was surprised.
The contract had been combed through by Ida Walker, who wanted a few changes. Arnie’s lawyer had emailed it to her, and when she printed it and first held it she felt like she needed to wash her hands. But the more she wrestled with it the more comfortable she became. It was as straightforward as Arnie had promised. His lawyer was easy to work with. Hey, they were all on the same team and pursuing the same goals.
Sooley was slowly beginning to resent her attempts at surveillance and control. For Murray, her involvement was beyond irksome. Though he doubted he would ever have the courage to do so, he was toying with the idea of taking a gap year and working as Sooley’s assistant. His friend needed him now and his life was only going to get more complicated. And Murray was seduced by the money, the private jets, the girls, the reflected glory, the sheer excitement of living through an NBA season.
Dream on, he kept telling himself.
* * *
·?·?·
Classes finally ended on May 2 and Sooley barely made it to the finish line. How was a guy supposed to study when he wasn’t returning in the fall? How was a guy supposed to stay motivated and think about three more years of college followed by an eternity in grad school when he was about to make millions playing his favorite game? It was simply not possible. Nor could he be bothered studying for final exams.
The break came in the library one night when he was supposed to be preparing for a biology final but was really just killing time and staying away from his dorm room. Murray had it for a couple of hours. Reynard texted and asked how things were going. Sooley stepped outside into the cool night and called him. When Sooley said he was studying for finals, Reynard actually began laughing and couldn’t stop. Sooley indeed felt rather foolish.
“Got an idea,” Reynard said. “Instead of worrying about final exams, why don’t you ride down with me to Arnie’s place for a few days? He’s got a couple of NBA assistants in town and he thinks it would be a great benefit for you to work out with them and talk about the Combine. I’ll pick you up tomorrow.”
Without hesitating, Sooley said yes.
He slept late the following morning and waited for Murray to leave. He crammed as much clothing, toiletries, and other assets as possible into a large gym bag and a backpack. When the black SUV rolled to a stop in front of the dorm, Sooley tossed his bags in the hatch and hopped in the back seat.
Leaving campus, it hit him hard that he would probably never come back, and that saddened him almost to the point of tears. He had arrived in August, a broken kid still reeling from the horrors at home, uncertain who in his family was still alive, if anyone. His father’s death had been confirmed but the rest of them were missing. Coach Britt had offered a sympathy scholarship, one that had paid off nicely.
He thought of Beatrice and how disappointed she would be to see him leaving school, but he couldn’t worry about that now. She might understand one day.
He waited until he was at South Beach before he texted Murray: “In South Beach at Arnie’s for a few days. Please don’t tell your mother. All good.”
To which Murray replied: “Douchebag!! What about final exams?”
“What about them?”
“I’m telling Mom.”
* * *
·?·?·
Arnie’s impressive spread did not include his own basketball gym, so he borrowed one from a private school around the corner. Late in the afternoon, on the drive to the gym, Reynard explained that Arnie was in Philadelphia meeting with Darrell Whitley of Villanova. If he signed him, the company would have two first-rounders, every agent’s dream.