Games of the Heart. Pamela Yaye

Life.” Whipping out his iPhone handheld, he checked the number and leaped to his feet like a jack-in-the-box. “Hold that thought. It’s Mariah’s people. I have to take this call.” Phone at his ear, he jogged down the stairs and out of sight.

      Around her, fans cheered and a few energized ones started the wave, but Sage was too upset to join in. Leo thought she was joke. Just another pretty face working at the agency. He hadn’t come right out and said it, but she caught the underlying message.

      Sage considered her options. Bribing Leo with VIP passes to the hottest clubs in Vegas wouldn’t work. As a regular in and around town, he had access to everything.

      But there had to be something she could do. Something that would demonstrate just how serious she was about the executive manager position. Eight years of controlling arrogant, snotty child stars was eight years too many. At first, Sage had been enamored with the glitz and glam of the business. Concerts. Backstage passes. Private parties. When she’d first attended the Academy Awards and saw all of her favorite actors, she’d become a bumbling fool in a Versace evening dress. Drinking flutes of champagne didn’t help, either. And every time Terrence Howard swaggered by, she imagined tripping his wife and shimmying up to the handsome star. But these days, Sage would rather watch paint dry than go to another movie premiere.

      The turbulent roar of the crowd yanked Sage from her thoughts. Candy wrappers rained down on her, cola splashed onto her shoes and popcorn fell like yellow balls of snow.

      “What the hell?” Feeling around in her purse, she grabbed a handful of Kleenex tissues, and cleaned the stain from her leather Gucci boots. Have these people lost their damn minds? she wondered, picking kernels out of her hair and tossing them on the ground.

      Sage looked up just in time to see a tall, majestic being suspended in midair. Palming the basketball in one hand, he waved off the bug-eyed defender with the other. He dunked the ball with such power, the backboard shook like a leaf in the wind. Fervent applause echoed around the gym, bouncing off the ceiling, the floor and the walls.

      Mesmerized, she leaned forward in her seat. Sage didn’t need to look at the back of the kid’s jersey to know this man-child, the future heir to Michael Jordan’s throne, was Khari Grant. She watched him play. He had the speed of Allen Iverson, the athleticism of Kobe Bryant and the grace of an African gazelle. No awkward moves, no misdirected plays, no jogging back on defense. Nothing but no-look passes, long-range jumpers and three-point shots.

      Somewhere between a Khari steal and a Khari dunk, Leo returned. “I told you the kid was something special.”

      Sage closed her gaping mouth. “I’ve never seen anything like him,” she managed, resurfacing from her trance. “I mean, I’ve watched hundreds of basketball games, trying to do research for us, but I’ve never seen a high school player dominate the court the way he does. And he’s only seventeen. He’ll be invincible in a couple years! Who represents him? In the Know Management? Sports for Life?”

      “Neither.”

      “That’s weird. Why would he have chosen a smaller, less-known firm?”

      “Wrong again. The kid doesn’t have a manager.”

      Her head snapped back. “Are you kidding me?”

      “I wish I was.” Leo tucked his phone into his suit pocket. “See the big lug sitting at the end of the home team’s bench?”

      Sage followed Leo’s gaze. It was the angry brother in plaid. “I had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting him outside. What about him?”

      “That’s Khari’s father.”

      Staring at him with fresh eyes, Sage reexamined the surly guy she’d met in the hall. Without the scowl, he was a different man. He still needed a gift certificate to a Ralph Lauren boutique, but she noted the defined features of his profile. The nose was straight, the mouth sensuously wide and full and his gaze startlingly intense. Marshall Grant had perfect posture, strong male features, and when he cheered his smile revealed slight dimples. “Are you sure, Leo? He doesn’t look old enough to have a teenage son.”

      “He’s thirty-seven.” Pushing his Armani eyeglasses up the bridge of his nose, he lowered his head and his voice. “Marshall knocked up his girlfriend and they got married just before sophomore year of college. They split up when the kid was around ten. Apparently, Roxanne had a drug and alcohol problem and refused to seek help. When Marshall returned from Kuwait, he chose not to reenlist.”

      “He served in Kuwait?” she asked, shocked.

      “And Bosnia too.”

      “Hold up. How do you know so much about him?”

      Leo held up his folio. “It’s all in here. Why do you think I was studying the scouting report on the plane? I’ve got to bring my A game if I’m going to convince Marshall Grant that I’m qualified to represent his son.”

      “What reverence. You make it sound like this guy is next in line for the throne!”

      His smiled fizzled like an Alka-Seltzer tablet in water. “Grant spent five years in the navy before joining the navy’s counterterrorist unit. Since being discharged, he’s had a string of community service jobs and now runs a center for teens at risk.”

      Nodding, she considered their ten-second exchange in the hallway. “A glorified truant officer, huh? He’s definitely in the right field.”

      “Marshall will be a hard one to crack. He won’t let anyone get within a mile of Khari. He thinks someone’s going to cheat his son.”

      Sage laughed. Nudging him playfully with her shoulder, she teased, “You’re not scared of him, are you, boss man?”

      “You wouldn’t be laughing if you knew what Khari’s projected net worth will be once he turns pro.” Glancing over his shoulder to ensure no one was listening, he dropped his deep baritone to a whisper. “Fifty million.”

      Sage was glad she was sitting down. If she had been standing, she would have tumbled forward and knocked herself unconscious when she hit the gymnasium floor. “Fifty million dollars,” she repeated, her voice rising with excitement. “At your standard twenty-percent fee and agency costs, you stand to make almost three million bucks!”

      Licking his lips, he adjusted his crisp marine-blue tie. “You’re quick on your feet, Collins. I haven’t done the math yet, but that sounds about right.”

      “Mind if I take a peek at the scouting report?” she asked, swiping the document from his briefcase. While Leo droned on about Khari’s baseline jumper, Sage slowly perused the five-page document. This kid was destined for greatness and she wanted a piece of the action. All she needed was an in. Something to endear her to Khari and his family. Something to help her stand out from all the other agents. Soon, Indianapolis would be crawling with slick-talking managers promising cars, cash and favors. It was imperative she do something while they still had a lead.

      Sage raised an eyebrow, a mischievous grin tugging at the corner of her lips. There it was in black and white. Her in…

      It was something so small, so insignificant, she’d almost missed it. “I can get to Khari,” she announced.

      “Right, and I can change water into wine.”

      “I’m serious, Leo.”

      “What are you going to do? Seduce the kid with your womanly wiles? Forget it, Sage. Leave this to a pro.”

      “Are you forgetting that I was the one to sign Hailey Hope, A-Town Boys, and a long list of other up-and-coming teen stars?”

      “But that was years ago. You haven’t brought any new clients to the agency in months. And from where I’m sitting, that’s bad for business.”

      The sting of his retort cut like a blade. Leo was right. There was a time when she was the celebrity manager to watch. But these days Sage just didn’t have it in her to schmooze. Traveling between Vegas and L.A. on a weekly basis