"Not so hot or cold!" Jake smirked at Pete's hesitant assessment, a trace of sarcasm in his voice. Pete felt a shiver down his spine as he picked up on Jake's tone. Eager to stay in his good graces, Pete hurried to flatter him.
"It's all different now, Mr. Jake, now that you're here. It's like the sun's finally shining here in Stockton," Pete replied, bowing slightly. He understood the power dynamics at play; there was a significant hierarchy between him and Jake, and he knew that, if Jake wanted to use him as an example to establish authority, there wasn't much he could do. His job supported his entire family, so if it meant playing the role of a humble servant to stay in Jake's favor, so be it.
Jake ignored Pete's flattery, rolling his eyes as they continued into the facility. He was only here to support Ajali's development as a manager, not to micromanage every detail. As far as he was concerned, Pete could serve as a minor challenge for Ajali to handle on her own, a way for her to get some experience without him stepping in as the "bad guy."
Under Pete's guidance, Jake and Ajali toured the modest gym. The team's arena doubled as both their home court and their office space. With each step, Ajali's brows knit tighter as she took in the facility's bare-bones setup.
"Try not to worry too much," Jake said, noticing her unease. "This is life at the lower level. Actually, the conditions here are decent by some standards. There are professional teams out there that can't even afford their own stadiums."
"I get it," Ajali nodded, forcing a smile. "I was prepared for this before I came. I'll work hard to make things better here." Her determination shone through, though Jake could sense a bit of hesitation as she took in the reality of the place.
After the tour, Pete led them to the best office in the arena—a modestly decorated room by NBA standards but a stark contrast to the rest of the facility. Jake glanced around before lighting a cigarette, gesturing for Ajali and Pete to take a seat.
"I've got to head back to Sacramento soon," he said, blowing a puff of smoke. "Use this office as your own. If you need my signature on anything, just call me."
Ajali nodded, clutching her briefcase tightly, a hint of tension evident in her stance. Jake noticed and offered a reassuring smile. "Don't worry so much," he said. "I'll check in more over the next couple of days and round up some solid players for you. Performance-wise, you're covered. I'll make sure you've got what you need."
Jake couldn't help but think that Ranadivé was rushing things. Ajali had been shadowing him for only a few months, and already her father was pushing her to run a team independently. Typical capitalist, Jake thought with an inner smirk, he doesn't even go easy on his own family.
After wrapping up the initial introductions, Jake made his way to the exit but paused and gave Pete a knowing look. Pete instantly picked up on the cue and followed him outside.
"Boss, any special instructions?" Pete asked, standing attentively on the curb, his tone eager and deferential.
Jake took a drag from his cigarette, tapping the box thoughtfully before speaking. "You know who she is, right?" he asked, gesturing toward Ajali, who was still inside.
"Of course, boss. She's the young lady—the boss's daughter," Pete replied quickly.
Jake nodded. "Good. I won't be here often, and you're an old hand at this place. You know the priorities."
Pete nodded vigorously. "Absolutely! I know what's important, Mr. Jake. I'll make sure she's treated right."
"Good." Jake pointed at him with his cigarette, his tone laced with warning. "You've got one job: make sure she's supported. If she's missing anything—funds, manpower—you let me know. And if she ends up having any trouble, I'll hold you personally responsible."
"Understood, boss!" Pete assured him, swallowing hard but managing a forced smile. Jake took one last drag, stamped out the cigarette, and climbed into his car, signaling the end of their conversation.
As Jake drove off, Pete exhaled, relief and resignation mingling on his face. He felt a pang of bitterness at having to cater to yet another demanding boss, but the promise of a 5% raise softened the blow.
On the drive back to Sacramento, Jake considered his next steps, reaching for his phone. He dialed a few contacts, issuing a straightforward request, "It's Jake. Drop by when you're free in the next couple of days. We've got some paperwork to sign."
He knew the NBDL games rarely carried much weight in the bigger picture, but this was Ajali's first real assignment with authority, and he wanted her debut to be a success. The face-saving factor was critical.
Within days, word spread across the league about Jake's sudden interest in a few players. The Kings had signed TJ McConnell to a one-year minimum deal, then moved him to the Development League. Cliff Alexander and Mitch Creek were also signed to ten-day contracts, building up the Stockton roster.
Jake looked over the list with satisfaction. McConnell, he knew, was a future league-quality player. Alexander might not have what it took to be an NBA regular, but he had the skill set to perform at the NBDL level. Creek, meanwhile, was a seasoned international player from the German league who had persevered through tough breaks to stay in the game. Jake was pleased with his choices. Each player had a relentless work ethic, a quality he admired.
These weren't flashy picks, but they were solid. Jake knew their tenacity might allow them to contribute meaningfully to the team's performance, boosting its chances and giving Ajali a steady start in her new role.
He chuckled to himself as he realized he was doing exactly what he'd scoffed at earlier: putting together a team of overlooked players, each hoping for a shot at the big leagues. It was like he was creating his own "poison farm," a place where he could cultivate underdogs and see if they had what it took to rise above.
"Raising poison?" he muttered, amused. "No, no… I'm just giving dreamers a place to prove themselves."