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“Myron!” Chaz said with the genuine enthusiasm that had made him such a popular player, sportscaster, and now coach. “As I live and breathe.”
“Thanks for calling me back so fast.”
“For you? Always.”
There had been a time many years ago when Chaz Landreaux, so-called “street kid” (when that euphemism was too often used) from the South Ward, had gotten himself in trouble with mob-connected agents. Myron and Win helped him out of that mess, and Chaz had ended up as one of Myron’s first clients. When Myron chose to close MB Reps and leave the business, Chaz had moved on to a new agency with young Black talent. When Myron returned, Chaz did not. Chaz was a loyal guy. He would never have left Myron of his own accord. But Myron had chosen to quit the business and so Chaz had found alternative representation, and his new agency had done good by him. It wouldn’t be fair, Chaz explained, to move back. Myron understood.
“Congrats on the new job,” Myron said.
Chaz had just landed the job as the University of Kentucky’s new men’s head basketball coach.
“Thanks,” Chaz said. “But you already congratulated me about that.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Even sent a gift basket of food.”
“Was it any good?”
“Gift baskets of food are never any good.”
“True,” Myron said. Then: “I need a favor, Chaz.”
“Okay.”
“I’m hoping it’ll end up being a favor for you too.”
“Oh boy, what a pitch,” Chaz said. “You’re a great salesman.”
Everyone’s a wiseass.
“I hear you’re looking for a head assistant coach.”
“Ah. You want to pitch a client?”
“Not a client,” Myron said. “But can you give Spark Konners an interview?”
“Funny.”
“What?”
“I got his résumé on my desk here. Of course, I got about a thousand résumés. How do you know him? Oh wait. Greg Downing, right?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“You guess?”
“Greg liked him a lot. That much I can say. The truth is, I really don’t know much about his qualifications other than that.”
“Uh-huh,” Chaz said.
Myron sipped the Yoo-hoo. He thought he’d outgrown the taste years ago. Now, maybe it was nostalgia, maybe it was fear of aging, maybe it was almost losing Terese’s favorite toe, but he found comfort in the old nectar.
“So you don’t know if he’s any good,” Chaz continued.
“I don’t, no.”
“So why are you making this call?”
