Free Rookie Mistake by Tracey Ward Page A

across the field with the offensive coordinator for the Buccaneers. Some early thirties asshole that kept touching her shoulder. Kept making her laugh.
    I’m excited to see her face on the screen, but it’s not her. It’s Brad Ashford. He’s on Sports Center talking to an analyst about the upcoming Draft. The logo for the California Kodiaks is in the corner by his face.
    So is a stern faced photo of Andre Larkin.
    “What the fuck is this?” I whisper to myself.
    I grab the remote from Defoe with shaking hands, cranking the volume.
    “…superstar in the making,” Ashford explains arrogantly. “The Kodiaks are a great program and now that they’ve traded Duncan Walker for this first round pick, they’re in the market for a running back. Andre Larkin is the clear choice, and Keith agrees with me.”
    “Keith Wilton, the Kodiak’s General Manager?”
    “He and I had a very in depth conversation about it and we both came to the same conclusion; Andre Larkin.
    The announcer, a balding black man with a vibrant green tie, shakes his head. “Now, I have to disagree with you, Brad, and I think a lot of other people will too. The smart move on a first round pick is almost never a running back. A quarterback is the backbone of your team. A great one can make or break a program and the Kodiaks have been desperate for a good one for two seasons. I think you go Trey Domata. No question.”
    “Fucking-a,” Folk rumbles.
    “I’m not going to argue with you, Josh. He’s a great athlete. He’s another client of mine and he’s an incredible player, but I don’t see him being a good fit for California, and Keith agrees with me. The Kodiaks need an explosive quarterback. The kind of guy who will run the ball and make the big plays, and Domata just isn’t that player. He’ll do great somewhere, but if it were up to me, it wouldn’t be with the Kodiaks.”
    “Don’t be modest, Brad,” the announcer laughs. “You’ve been in the business a long time and we all know your reach is long. You have at least a little say in where your clients land.”
    “I may hold some sway with some people, I’ll admit it, but in the end it’s down to the coaches and the GMs making the right choices. I would caution them to remember that while a player can be flashy and feel like the popular choice, he’s not always the right one for your program.”
    “And you feel like Andre Larkin is hands down the best first round choice for the Kodiaks? Worth giving up star player Duncan Walker?”
    “Absolutely, Josh. It’s why I suggested the trade. There’s no doubt in my mind. Andre Larkin is a Kodiak.”
    “Trey, where are you going?” Cummings asks nervously.
    I’m already off the mats, heading for the door. “I’m going to the agency.”
    “He’s not there, man! He was just on TV. He could be in New York for all you know.”
    “Sports Center broadcasts from the ESPN offices in L.A.,” Folk corrects.
    “Why would you know that?”
    “I took Broadcasting fall term. We had a field trip to their studio.”
    “A fucking field trip in college, are you shi—Trey, get back here! You can’t ambush your agent!”
    Heavy metal doors slam shut behind me, silencing his protests.
    Inside me voices roar angry and chaotic. I can’t understand them, can’t get a clear grip on my thoughts. It’s a buzz between my ears, like wild bees on bath salts.
    I drive too fast. I change lanes without thinking. Without looking. I’m in the driver’s seat but I’m a passenger in my own body. I’m grabbing for the wheel but I can’t get my hands on it. I can’t slow myself down.
    I’m out of control.
    I park on the curb in front of the office building where the Ashford Agency sits high in the sky. My parking spot is a red zone. It’s illegal and I don’t give a shit.
    After an agonizingly slow ride up the elevator, I burst through the glass doors leading into the lobby. I haven’t been back since I signed with them. It’s whiter than I