Drop Shot (1996) by Harlan - Myron 02 Coben Page B

were his most prominent feature unusually thick and angry and constantly undulating above his eyes. They looked like small ferrets furrowing into his forehead. "You were captain of me team at Duke?" he began.
    "For three years," Myron said.
    "And you won two NCAA championships?"
    "My team did, yes."
    "I saw you play on several occasions. You were quite good."
    "Thank you."
    He leaned forward. The eyebrows grew somehow bushier. "If I recall," Crane continued, "the Celtics drafted you in the first round."
    Myron nodded.
    "How long did you play for them? Not long, as I recall."
    "I hurt my knee during a preseason game my rookie year."
    "You never played again?" It was Eddie. His eyes were young and wide.
    "Never," Myron said steadily. Better lesson than any lecture he could give. Like the funeral of a high school classmate who died because he was D. U. I.
    "Then what did you do with yourself?" Mr. Crane asked. "After the injury?"
    The interview. Part of the process. It was harder when you were an ex-jock. People naturally assumed you were dumb.
    "I went through rehab for a long while," Myron said. "I thought I could beat the odds, defy the doctors, come back. When I was able to face reality, I went to law school."
    "Where?"
    "At Harvard."
    "Very impressive."
    Myron tried to look humble. He almost batted his eyes.
    "Did you make Law Review?"
    "No."
    "Do you have an MBA?"
    "No."
    "What did you do upon graduation?"
    "I became an agent."
    Mr. Crane frowned. "How long did it take you to graduate?"
    "Five years."
    "Why so long?"
    "I was working at the same time."
    "Doing what?"
    "I worked for the government." Nice and vague. He hoped Crane didn't push it.
    "I see." Crane frowned again. Every part of him frowned. His mouth, his forehead, even his ears frowned. "Why did you enter the field of sports representation?"
    "Because I thought I'd like it. And I thought I'd be good at it."
    "Your agency is small."
    "True."
    "You don't have the connections of some larger agencies."
    "True."
    "You certainly don't wield the power of ICM or TruPro or Advantage."
    "True."
    "You don't have too many successful tennis players.
    "True."
    Crane gave a disapproving scowl. "Then tell me, Mr. Bolitar, why should we choose you?"
    "I'm a lot of fun at parties."
    Mr. Crane did not break a smile. Eddie did. He caught himself, smothered the smile behind his hand.
    "Is that supposed to be funny?" Crane said.
    "Let me ask you a question, Mr. Crane. You live in Florida, right?"
    "St. Petersburg."
    "How did you get up to New York?"
    "We flew."
    "No. I mean, who paid for the tickets?"
    The Cranes shared a wary glance.
    "TruPro bought your tickets, right?"
    Mr. Crane nodded tentatively.
    "They had a limo meet you at the airport?" Myron continued.
    Another nod.
    "Your jacket, ma'am. It's new?"
    "Yes." First time Mrs. Crane had spoken.
    "Did one of the big agencies buy it for you?"
    "Yes."
    "The big agencies, they have wives or female associates who take you around town, show you the sights, do a little shopping, that sort of thing?"
    "Yes."
    "What's your point?" Crane interrupted.
    "That kind of thing is not my bag," Myron said.
    "What kind of thing?"
    "Ass-kissing. I'm not very good at ass-kissing a client And I'm terrible at ass-kissing the parents. Eddie?"
    "Yes?"
    "Did the big agencies promise to have someone at every match?"
    He nodded.
    "I won't do that," Myron said. "If you need me I'm available twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. But I'm not physically there twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. If you want your hand held at every match because Agassi's or Chang's is, go with one of the big agencies. They're better at it than I am. If you need someone to run errands or do your laundry, I'm not the guy either."
    The Cranes shared another family glance. "Well," Mr. Crane said. "I heard you speak your mind, Mr. Bolitar. It appears you are living up to your reputation."
    "You asked for a contrast between me and the others.
    "So I did."
    Myron focused