She taught me to make sure toilet seats were down. Mom also said to bring a few items—like a brightly colored cookie jar or a bowl of fruit—to break up the counter space. She pointed out that shooting straight-on at eye level wasn’t always best. Sometimes you wanted to crouch down to get the best angle.
I was able to do my time-lapse pictures at different f-stops. Mom showed me she had an app on her phone that did the same thing.
We walked back outside. It was just starting to get dark, and she’d turned on all the lights in the house. It was a cool effect with the lights making the house feel alive. She then had me shoot the front from different angles. Mom didn’t want to lead with the traditional shot that would make the first impression when people scrolled through the websites. She wanted something that slowed them down enough that they might click on her listing.
Finally, she handed me her phone and had me do a video walk-through of the house. To start, I turned it on her, and she introduced herself. For the local MLS (Multiple Listing Service), she would edit that part out. But for her personal and national websites, she wanted people to put a face to the listing. Next, I simply held the phone up and walked through the house while she spoke, pointing out all its features, and then she talked about the neighborhood.
I never realized how much work she put into listing a home. Now she had to go back and find the right combination of shots to make it stand out.
◊◊◊
On the way home, she had some news for me.
“I had a football recruiter stop by from Southwest Central State. He wanted to know if you had any interest in coming to check them out. I told him that you already had the schools you wanted to see lined up. He then asked what it would take for you to make a visit. I got the impression he was offering money,” Mom said.
“Don’t tell Cassidy. She’ll figure out how she can cash in on the deal.”
Cassidy had accompanied me on a recruiting trip and learned all about hundred-dollar handshakes.
“I’ve heard plenty of stories about inducements to play college ball. There are rumors about schools on your list that have ‘bought’ commitments. I’m actually surprised you haven’t had someone approach you.”
“Let’s get some information from someone who would know,” I said and connected my phone to the Bluetooth in my mom’s car.
“I was just talking about you and how you could make us contenders,” Bo Harrington said.
“I know, Alabama just needs me to get over the hump.”
“Did you call to commit?” he asked.
“No, I have a question. Mom was approached by someone, and she got the feeling they wanted to offer her money. How much would someone like me be worth on the open market?” I asked.
The phone became quiet.
“Bo, David isn’t serious,” Mom said.
“Thank God! I wasn’t sure if you were setting me up or looking for something.”
“Hypothetically, what do you think I might be worth?” I asked.
“That’s hard to say, and just so we’re clear, I have no direct knowledge of what I’m about to tell you,” Bo said. My mother snorted to share her thoughts on that disclaimer. “Basketball players seem to be at a premium. A top-five small forward might be worth $100,000, but a five-star quarterback would be worth at least that much, I would assume.
“For you, that would be the starting point because you bring more with you than just your football skills. Remember when you went to the Northwestern–Stanford game? You told me that you were surprised the place wasn’t sold out. What would it be worth to them to have a full stadium? If you draw even half as well as you did playing high school baseball, it would be a boon.
“I mean, do the math. If you drew an additional ten thousand season-ticket holders at Northwestern, their cheapest plan is like $160. That’s $1.6 million in ticket sales, and we haven’t even touched merchandise sales. I know that if you came here, half our fan base would have your jersey.
“Then let’s consider the draw of additional students. Someone like you would help our numbers. It’s just like Missouri took a hit when their football team threatened to boycott football games if their president, who they deemed ineffective in resolving the racist climate, didn’t resign. Believe me, we are very aware of what negative press of that kind could do to our program. At Missouri, they’re feeling the backlash in a big way. Enrollment is down, forcing them to close dorms and lay off over 400 employees. Good press and growth can have the opposite effect,” Bo explained.
“Bottom-line it for me,” I said.
“I would guess you could command at least half a million, if not double or triple that at the right place.”
“Okay, so what’s Alabama offering?” I teased.
“A full ride, me as your coach, and a chance to play in National Championship games. And then, if you feel like going to school, we’ll throw that in at no additional cost.”
“Have you ever thought of selling real estate? I’m always looking for smooth talkers,” Mom said.
“If it means your son plays for Alabama, I’m sure they’d fire me, and I would need a job.”
“I just realized you didn’t guarantee me a starting spot or scholarships for my posse,” I complained.
“That’s life. Suck it up and sign with us and let’s end this insane tour you plan to do this fall.”
“I forgot to tell you. Wisconsin stepped on their dicks with my dad.”
“David, language,” Mom warned.
“I asked them what the best fraternity for me to join was. They told us I wouldn’t have enough time for a frat because I’d be too busy preparing for football. Dad wondered if I would have time to study.”
“Good. I can mark them off your list,” Bo said.
“I think so. They don’t have an architecture program for Tim.”
“Oh, shit. We might not have one either. Let me look into that,” Bo said.
“For one-point-five, I think I can talk him into going to Alabama,” Mom shared.
Bo just laughed. I was sure that by now, he knew my mom well enough to recognize when she was joking. Let the bidding war begin.
◊◊◊
I came home to find Cassidy at my house, helping Dad make dinner. Before I had a chance to investigate why she was here, Duke informed me of an issue. It seemed Bandit was eating his dog food.
“Just stick your head in there and eat,” I told him. “Or better yet, eat Bandit’s food.”
Duke got brave and grabbed a mouthful of dog food. They would figure it out. If Duke could stand up to Precious, Bandit would be a piece of cake.
I walked up behind Cassidy, wrapped her in my arms, and kissed her neck.
“If Brook is ‘Hotness,’ what am I?” Cassidy asked.
Dad turned away because he was going to laugh. Cassidy said it so seriously he decided laughter probably wasn’t a good idea. While I’d never seen Cassidy take an adult down, I thought my dad made the smart play.
“I hadn’t really thought about it, but you’re right. You need a text handle so when I send you and Brook a message, you know who I’m talking about.”
“Why can’t you just say ‘Brook’ or ‘Cassidy’?” Dad asked.
He had a point, but Cassidy wanted a pet name. We both ignored him.
“I sort of wanted ‘Hotness,’” Cassidy pouted.
“Let’s try these on. Stop me when you hear one you like. Bumpkin, Sparky, Giggles, Puddin’, Boo, Peaches …”
“David, you’re not even trying,” Cassidy said as she crossed her arms over her chest.
“I know. You should be my ‘Bad Girl,’” I suggested as I waggled my eyebrows.
I could tell she liked that.
“What should you and Brook call me?” I asked.
“Besides ‘Stupid Boy’?” Cassidy asked, and I nodded. “Big Daddy.”
It could be worse.
“Why are you eating with us tonight?” I asked.