Page 14 of Rules Of Engagement: St. Louis
My watch showed 6:15 AM. Two hours and forty-five minutes until Lumina’s deadline. I tried to push the thought away, to focus on form and breathing, but the Davidson deal had been living in my head for weeks now.
Dexter deserved better. He had three World Series rings, and a batting average that would earn him a spot in Jamestown, and they wanted to treat him like a rookie looking for his first break. The disrespect had been personal for me because it was insulting and came across systematically flawed against my client.
Mile six approached, and I could feel my body settling into the zone. My breathing remained steady. In through the nose, out through the mouth, just like my college track coach haddrilled into me fifteen years ago. The lesson had become part of my DNA.
My mind drifted between my run and the Davidson deal. My preparation had been flawless. Every contract clause had been researched, every precedent studied, every possible objection anticipated and countered. If Lumina rejected our terms, it wouldn’t be because I hadn’t done my job.
The GPS watch beeped again. Mile six complete in six minutes, fifty-eight seconds. My best split of the morning.
I could see the next landmark ahead—the sculpture garden that marked the halfway point of my usual route. From there, I’d loop back toward the parking area, completing my eight-mile circuit just as the sun began to rise.
But first, I had to push through the mental wall that always appeared around mile six and a half, where my mind started bargaining with my body, suggesting that seven miles would be sufficient, and eight was unnecessary punishment.
My phone buzzed against my arm, and I stopped so abruptly that my momentum nearly made me stumble. Heart pounding from more than just physical exertion, I pulled the device from its armband and checked the display.
Unknown number. 314 area code.
St. Louis.
I swiped to answer. “Christian Valentine.”
“Mr. Valentine, this is Braden Harrison from Lumina Entertainment. I apologize for calling so early.”
I closed my eyes, bracing for impact. “Not a problem, Braden. What’s the verdict?”
“The verdict is that Dexter Davidson is about to become a very wealthy man. We’re accepting your terms. All of them.”
I had to sit down on the nearest bench before my legs gave out. We’d won.
“Braden, that’s good news. I can’t tell you how pleased I am to hear that.”
“Your client drove a hard bargain, Counselor, but he earned every penny of that forty-seven million. I’ll have our legal team prepare the acceptance documents this afternoon.”
“I’ll have the final contracts ready for signature by the close of business today.”
“Excellent. Congratulations, Mr. Valentine. This has been a pleasure, even when you were making my life difficult.”
I laughed. “The feeling is mutual, Braden.”
After ending the call, I sat on the bench for several minutes, watching the sky begin to lighten in the east. Forty-seven million dollars. Not the biggest deal of my career, but it was substantial none the less, and I was sitting alone in Forest Park at dawn.
I was processing the magnitude of what had just happened when my phone rang again. This time, the caller ID brought a smile to my face, my brother, Dr. Elijah Valentine.
“Tell me you’re not already cutting into someone’s brain at this ungodly hour,” I said by way of greeting.
“Surgery doesn’t start until eight, which gives me time to check on my big brother’s mental health. How’s the self-inflicted torture session going?”
“It just got a lot better. Davidson deal closed. Forty-seven million.”
Silence stretched across the connection, then: “Jesus Christ, Christian.”
“Pretty sure the good doctor isn’t supposed to take the Lord’s name in vain.”
“Pretty sure the good doctor is allowed to be proud of his big brother.” I could hear the grin in Elijah’s voice. “Forty-seven million? You’ve been on a high run with these contract negotiations.”
“It’s a good day to be a Valentine.”
“It’s a great day to be you. You know what this calls for, don’t you?”
