David had made his decision. Zoey and Jason who even though didn't know the specifics of what he was advising, were right. He would be a fool to turn this opportunity down. He was playing football for himself, and this was the chance of a lifetime—playing for the biggest team in England. The excitement hit him like a wave, and he couldn't contain it. He grabbed the business card he had thrown away earlier, picked up the phone, and dialed the number.
"Hello?" Jonathan's voice came through the line.
Before David could speak, Jonathan quickly added, "If this is the loan company, I'm telling you guys, I'll pay you soon. Just wait."
David chuckled. "Nah, it's David Jones, not the loan company."
There was silence on the other end for a moment. Then Jonathan's familiar laugh broke the quiet. "Ha ha, just messing with you, kid. I knew it was you. How've you been?"
David's response was simple but truthful. "Sure."
"Well, anyway," David continued, "about the Manchester United deal, I want to take it."
Jonathan laughed again. "I knew you would, kid. You strike me as the ambitious type. But first, we need to get you to sign with me as your agent."
David's expression hardened. "I agreed to join Manchester United, but I didn't agree to sign you as my agent."
Jonathan's tone shifted, and there was a hint of desperation in his voice. "Please, kid, don't do this. You have no idea how much I've worked for this deal. I've bet everything on it. You can't just walk away."
David stayed calm but firm. "Dude, you legit lied and said you were my agent. Look at yourself. If you were me, would you accept you as your agent?"
The line went quiet for a moment before Jonathan's voice returned, now sounding even more desperate. "David, please, don't turn your back on me. I've been following you for weeks, and I brought you this deal. Nike, Adidas—whatever you want, I'll help you get them. Think of the money, man. Millions. Let's get the bag, kid."
David shook his head, a small smile on his face. "I can get all that myself."
Jonathan didn't let up. "Okay, kid, but you're going to need an agent, won't you? You can't be bothered with all the paperwork and details. Let me handle it for you. I know how to work the system."
David didn't hesitate. "I'll get a proper agent."
Jonathan's voice came back with a sense of urgency. "A normal agent would charge you between 10 to 15 percent, kid. I'll only take 5 percent. Please, kid, just think of it as a favor. I brought you this deal. I've been following you since you joined derby. Just this one time, let me help you."
David took a deep breath. His mind raced as he thought it through. It was true that Jonathan had been instrumental in landing him this deal, but there was a fine line between gratitude and exploitation. Still, something about the way Jonathan spoke made David think about it. Finally, after a long pause, he relented.
"Fine, fine. You can be my agent," David said reluctantly.
Jonathan shouted with joy. "Yes! Yes! Thanks, kid! I won't let you down. I'm coming over now to finalize everything."
David quickly cut him off. "Hell no, you're not. I'll send you my email. Just send me the documents."
It only took two minutes for Jonathan to send the contract to David's email. He opened it up, his fingers trembling as he clicked through the attachments. There it was: a standard agent contract between an agent and a client, complete with parental signatures. Jonathan's name was at the top, and at the bottom, there was a clause stating that Jonathan would receive 3 percent of David's earnings.
David stared at the document for a moment before Jonathan's call came through again. He hesitated for a moment but then picked up.
"Hello?" Jonathan said.
"Hey, yeah, I saw it," David's voice sounded over the line. "I'll get everything signed and sent back to you as soon as possible."
David glanced at the contract one more time. His eyes landed on the line that read "Parental Signature," and he froze. He thought about his parents, especially his dad. His dad had been a huge fan of Manchester United, and now David was going to play for the team both of them had supported for so long.
A wave of excitement and pride washed over him, but it was quickly followed by a sense of nervousness. How would his dad react? How could he even begin to tell him? It had to be the right moment—the perfect way to share the news.
He couldn't wait any longer. He picked up his phone and dialed his mom's number.
The phone rang, and David tapped his foot impatiently. Finally, the soft, familiar voice of his mother came through the line.
"Hello, sweetheart," she said gently.