I pulled my pass out my purse heading into the Staples Arena past security and onto the court. I made my way into one of the many empty seats in the stadium, closer to the court. Players ran around doing drills and practicing shots.

I studied how Lamelo played and watched how he acted on the court. He was a destined pro by the way he passed the ball, his floaters, his ability to shoot. The boy was good and he knew it. Better than his brother even.

They finally finished and I made my way to the court walking over to a sweaty Lamelo sitting in one of the chairs on the sideline.

"Hey baby girl, if you want a picture I got you outside. It's kind of a closed practice." He smirked eyeing me, wiping the sweat droplets that gracefully fell from his head.

Arrogance radiated off of him and it made me sick. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and stayed professional.

"I'm not a fan Ball, I'm Amani Brown, sports agent for Hawkeye." I reached out for him to shake my hand but he just looked at it.

"You don't look like a sports agent." He spoke while looking me up and down.

I was getting tired of his attitude. I was real close to walking away, but Deyjah's and Mark's words rang through my mind. I had to try and contract him for the sake of the company, and my job.

"What is that supposed to mean, exactly?" I tested, walking closer to him folding my arms.

"I mean you not in no suit, you look young as hell, and you-."

"Black?" I cocked my head to the side. Waiting for him to say the wrong thing. Most agents in this industry were white.

He laughed before shaking his head. "I was going to say a girl, but that too."

He got up towering over me. His 6'7 frame was a giant contrast from my 5'4. It was intimidating, but I refused to let it show.

"Look sweetie, I'm good over here. I don't need you." He started to walk away from me. Pissing me off. I wasn't a fan of the pet names he was giving me. It was demeaning.

"If you didn't need me then why did your coach contact me?" I bluffed like hell, successfully I might add, making him stop dead in his tracks.

"What?"

"I can see it now." I flashed my hands in the air. "Star #1 draft pick Lamelo Ball lives up to his name, but nobody wants him. He's not worth more than the trouble he's making and if he doesn't get his act together nobody in the league is gonna want him." I smirked.

"But, you don't need me right sweetie?" I winked at him before throwing my card on the chair he was once sitting at and walking away.

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So this is a snippet from a book I'm thinking about releasing. It's about a sports agent dealing with trying to contract Lamelo Ball and turn his not so graceful limelight into a clean cut one, so leagues would want him. Should I release it?