Page 87 of Biggest Player
Which puts me solely in the spotlight, front and center, no wife or kids or girlfriends lingering nearby to draw attention. Occasionally my agent will show up, depending on the city.
This signing event is local.
Obviously we’re contractually obligated to be here—the same way we’re contractually obligated to do postgame interviews—and in case you’re wondering, yes, we get paid for our autographs. It does kind of feel weird taking money from people, but I can’t be the only dude at the table not charging fans.
It would piss off my teammates, and the rookies can use the extra cash. They don’t always rake in the big bucks unless they’re drafted in the first round.
I’m tempted to take her hand when we walk into the building, Margot stepping into place beside me. I catch a whiff of her perfume when the wind kicks up. She looks fantastic and smells better, but also: she looks fantastic.
This is going to be the longest hour.
I regret inviting Margot along because now the only thing I want to do is be alone with her. I want to be in a half-empty theater with my hand under her blanket ...
That will have to wait.
I introduce Margot as my friend when the event coordinator greets us, and she’s given a spot off to the side where she’ll be able to easily see the fans and the action.
Me.
I’m the action . . .
There is a long table draped in a black tablecloth where me and two of my Arizona teammates will be seated with stacks of glossy 8 × 10 photos of ourselves, along with glossy team photos. You know the kind—the entire team sitting on the bleachers in the stadium, looking badass and serious? Yeah, those.
Those will be free, but the headshots cost money.
“Oh my God, this is so exciting,” Margot says nervously. “I hardly know what to do with myself.”
She’s not wrong; people are lined up in the lobby, the line flowing down through the venue and probably out the front doors, each person waiting for their moment to meet us.
I pat her on the behind to comfort her.
I notice quite a few kids and teenagers and would have given my left nut when I was younger to meet any of my pro sports heroes.
I also notice I’m placed between Kendrick Hayes and Dominic Rivera, two of the most popular and well-known players on our team besides me, although Dominic is a rookie and doesn’t get as much playing time.
We draw a massive crowd.
“This is crazy!” Margot is next to me, pressed into my side as if she doesn’t want to lose me.
I turn to look down at the top of her head, watching as she nervously runs a hand over her hair.
She has it down. It falls in long waves over her shoulders, which are bare because of the white top she’s wearing. It’s not overtly sexy, but it’s tight and clings to her breasts.
I can see cleavage from this angle.
They haven’t opened the line yet, so there’s still a bit of time to chat and tell her how events like this work.
“They don’t last long—we’ve only agreed to be here an hour, so they’ll close the door at seven, and anyone who wasn’t in line won’t be able to meet us.”
She nods in understanding. “It seems like something that will go quickly.”
“Yeah, they do tend to go quickly.”
“Are they always like this?”
“Always like what?”
“You know—full of energy? Loud? Busy?”
