Any Way the Wind Blows - E. Lynn Harris [9]
Daschle leaned over my desk and signed his name very slowly. I wondered for a moment if he was having second thoughts. It looked as though he was filling in the holes on a test card rather than signing his name. When he finished, I looked at his signature and chuckled.
“Daschle, from the looks of this signature, if you don’t make it as a football player then you could be a doctor. Your handwriting is bad,” I joked.
“A doctor?” Daschle asked with a puzzled look on his face.
“Dawg, haven’t you heard about … forget about it. I was just kidding,” I said. I guess the doctors in Mississippi had good penmanship.
“I feel ya,” Daschle said as he shook his head.
“So what do you feel like eating? We need to go out and celebrate,” I said as I moved the signed contract into my in basket.
“Don’t matter. Some chicken or maybe a steak or sumthin’. I ain’t choosy. I just want to go to a tittie bar and get me a private lap dance and then get some Z’s,” he said.
“I’ll have my assistant find us a place that has both. I mean, chicken and steak. There are a couple of places we can go for a lap dance.”
“Cool,” Daschle said as he stood up and stretched his healthy body. He then walked over to my large picture window overlooking Columbus Circle and the entrance to Central Park and looked out onto the city.
“So how tight are you and your girl, Allison? That’s her name, right?”
“My dip, yeah, that’s her name and we tight. I ain’t ready to walk down the aisle and shit, but she’s cool.”
“I hear ya,” I said as I pressed the intercom button for my assistant, Kendra.
“Yes, sir,” Kendra said.
“Kendra, see if you can get me a reservation at Jimmy’s Uptown Café in about an hour.”
“Yes, sir.”
I looked at Daschle and said, “I think you’ll like this place. It’s up in Harlem and it’s the top shit right now.”
“Dude … Harlem. I’ve always wanted to go to Harlem.” He had a child’s smile on his face like I had just told him I was giving him an all-day pass to Disneyland.
“I’ll even have my driver give us a little uptown tour. Harlem all of sudden is the hottest spot in New York City. Can you excuse me for a second?”
“Cool.”
“Make yourself at home. If you need to use the phone or listen to music, go ahead. I shouldn’t be but a few minutes. I need to talk with my partner, Brison,” I said as I moved from behind my desk.
“Take ya time, dawg. I think I’ll just enjoy this view,” Daschle said.
I left my office and walked the few yards to Brison’s office. His door was open and I could see him looking down at his desk. I knocked once firmly, and Brison looked up and motioned for me to come in. When I moved closer to his desk, I saw that he was studying a glossy color brochure.
“Basil, whatsup?”
“Trying to bring in some new business. What’s that?”
“The competition is bringing in some new tools. Look at this,” Brison said as he handed me the pamphlet.
“This is smooth,” I said as I looked at the photos of athletes, both male and female, touting the services of PMK Management, one of the largest sports agencies in the country. PMK had made overtures to buy XJI, and we’d turned them down cold.
“You think we should do a brochure like this?”
“You bet. This is the shit. Something we can leave with potential clients. Make sure they won’t forget us.”
“I’ll contact an advertising agency before I leave this evening.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“How’s it going with Daschle?”
“He’s now a signed, sealed and delivered first-round pick,” I said as I exchanged dap, the brotherman’s hand-tap, with Brison.
“That’s great