Chapter 17 - THE OFFER
Grant Keller did not look like a booster.
That was probably intentional.
No school polo.
No oversized watch.
No courtside photograph on the wall.
He wore jeans, white sneakers, and a gray quarter-zip.
His office was downtown.
Glass walls.
Good coffee.
No college logos anywhere.
Tyler sat across from him.
A woman named Dana Price joined by video.
She introduced herself as Keller Performance Group's athlete partnerships director.
Grant smiled.
“We don't buy players.”
Tyler hadn't accused him.
Grant continued anyway.
“We build brands.”
Tyler looked at the contract.
Twenty-four pages.
“What brand?”
“You.”
Tyler laughed.
“I've played zero college minutes.”
“You've got a story.”
There it was.
Not his jumper.
Not his defense.
Not his high school scoring average.
His story.
Grant turned a tablet toward him.
The cafeteria video.
Again.
“You and your dad have something people respond to.”
Tyler stared at the frozen image.
Michael in uniform.
Tyler carrying a tray beside him.
Grant continued.
“Working-class father. Talented son. Humility. Redemption.”
Tyler's face tightened.
“My dad has a company.”
“Even better.”
Grant smiled.
“Blue collar without actually being poor.”
Tyler stopped liking him.
Dana cut in.
“The first campaign would be simple. Local workwear company. Social posts. Maybe a father-son shoot.”
“How much?”
Grant didn't blink.
“Twenty-five thousand.”
Tyler looked at him.
“For pictures?”
“For your image.”
Tyler leaned back.
Twenty-five thousand.
His mother still had bills.
Michael's flooring business was recovering but not recovered.
Mason covered tuition.
Not everything else.
Twenty-five thousand could matter.
Grant saw the calculation.
Good salesmen always did.
“You're allowed to help your family.”
Tyler looked down at the contract.
“What do you want from my dad?”
“Nothing complicated.”
Grant slid a one-page concept sheet across the table.
MICHAEL CARTER: BUILT DIFFERENT.
Photographs of Michael in work boots.
Michael carrying cafeteria trays.
Michael laying flooring.
Tyler standing beside him in Mason gear.
At the bottom:
FROM LUNCH LINE TO LEGACY.
Tyler read it twice.
Then looked up.
“My dad didn't agree to this.”
Grant smiled.
“That's why we haven't filmed it.”
Tyler pushed the paper back.
“I need to talk to him.”
“Of course.”
Grant stood.
“No pressure.”
Tyler picked up the contract.
Grant added:
“But we do need an answer by Friday.”
Tyler stopped at the door.
“No pressure?”
Grant smiled again.
“Business has deadlines.”
Outside, Tyler called Michael.
The phone rang twice.
Then Tyler hung up.
He stared at the contract.
This time the question wasn't whether somebody else had secretly chosen for him.
May you like
The question was worse.
What if the choice really was his?
