I relax in my office, content for a moment to simply watch the snow fall outside my window and to pet my cat, Japurri Purrker. Nothing can disturb the deep serenity of the winter morning. Nothing but…
My phone rings. Japurri, startled by the noise, hops off my lap and trots to his kitty condo. Meanwhile, I answer the phone, and I don’t bother to hide the annoyance in my voice. “This is DTB. Speak.”
“Listen, man, I’ve never asked for favors before, but I’m asking one of you now, can you-”
“Wait. Shut up. Let’s go back,” I interrupt. I don’t recognize the voice, which is obviously that of a white man. There is no trace of accent, so it must be an American-born player. My brain is still half-occupied by thoughts of the hibernal majesty I am now distracted from, so I cannot even form a good guess as to who the caller might be. “Who are you?”
“Kirk Hinrich.”
It has been a while since I thought about that name. “Aren’t you, like, super old?” I ask.
“Don’t rub it in. My ankles feel like heck his morning. If I have to guard Curry again, I think an amputation is in my future.”
Cradling the phone in my shoulder, I navigate to Basketball-Reference, where I look up the box score of yesterday’s Bulls game. “I see here you scored seventeen points. You must be looking for my highlight services.”
“Yes, if you could,” Kirk responds. He is much more polite than my average customer.
“I don’t know…” I say, applying uncertainty thick on my voice. “Nobody wants to watch some old man hit a few layups.” That is not strictly true. Every player has fans except for Ian Mahinmi. But Kirk has no reason to challenge my authority in this matter.
“I’ve got money. Tons of it,” Kirk responds. “You send me an invoice and I’ll pay it.”
“You’re the boss,” I say, before abruptly hanging up. I walk over to where Japurri sits on top of his kitty condo and pick him up in my arms. “Did you hear that, Japurri?” I ask, cradling him. “Only the finest of Fancy Feasts from here on out.”
Japurri meows at me, wanting to be put down. I do so. And then, I set to work on my $50,000-dollar video. The snow continues to drift lazily from the sky, but now, it is too easy to pretend that it is not snow, but dollar bills.