Any Way the Wind Blows Read Online Free Page A

taking off your sweater and dropping your pants to your knees?” Steven asked.
    “Sure,” I said, grateful I had decided to wear underwear. I stood up, pulled off my navy blue turtleneck and dropped it on the table and then unbuckled my belt and dropped myjeans, not to my knees but to my ankles. I figured they should see the entire package. I gave Steven a look like if Suzy weren’t here, I would make sure you gave me this job in sixty seconds.
    “Turn around,” Steven directed.
    I turned around slowly like I was on top of a music box, and then back again.
    “You have a great body,” Steven gushed.
    “Thank you. Do you need to see more?” I asked with a wicked smile.
    “Oh, no. You can pull your clothes back up,” Suzy said.
    “Do you mind answering a few questions?” Steven asked.
    “No.”
    “Tell us about yourself,” Suzy said.
    “I’m from Cleveland,” I said, thinking, Oh no, this is one of those let’s-play-male-beauty-pageant calls. I could anticipate the next question.
    “Give us one word that describes you,” Steven said.
    “Expensive.” I smiled.
    “How long have you been modeling and acting?” Suzy asked.
    “I don’t consider myself an actor. I’ve been modeling for about five years,” I said.
    “What type of music do you like?”
    “All types, but mostly jazz and R and B,” I said.
    “Do you have any questions for us?” Steven asked.
    “When are you going to make a decision?”
    “In the next forty-eight hours,” Suzy said.
    “I would
love
this opportunity,” I said. It always helped to beg for a job.
    “We’ll get back to you,” Suzy said firmly. It was definitely a don’t-call-us, we’ll-never-call-you tone.
    “Thanks,” I said as I grabbed my portfolio and headed for the door.

Basil’s New Year’s Gift
    S ometimes the best Christmas presents come after the holiday season has ended, like the end of January. And for someone in the competitive business of sports management, the best present comes in the form of a 6′4″, 225-pound All-American tight end.
    “So you’re sure you want to do this?” I asked.
    “Folks, are you crazy? Just show me where to sign, and it’s goodbye CSU and bling, bling, hello NFL,” Daschle said.
    “You’ve read the contract?”
    “Yeah, I read it. It’s chill.”
    “And your mother approves?”
    “Yeah, she’s ready for a new house and a new car,” Daschle said, with a huge smile on his face. A smile I’d seen several of my clients flash when they talked about their mamas.
    I was thinking how many times I’d heard “gonna buy a house and car for my mama, and one for my girl.” I wanted to make sure that I arranged a meeting with a financial planner immediately for Daschle Thompson, my first client of the year. I hadn’t expected to sign Daschle so soon, since he was only asophomore. I’d actually been trying to sign his roommate, who was a certain first-round choice until he had a career-ending injury during the third game of the season. I had mixed feelings about signing someone who had spent only two years in college, and I always made sure potential clients knew the moment they signed on the dotted line, or accepted a meal or trip from an agent, it was bye-bye college days. I also warned them that the NFL not only stood for National Football League but also Not For Long. A halfback from Itta Bena, Mississippi, Daschle had pulled in over eighty-two receptions for more than 1,200 yards and had been told by scouts he could be a certain first-round pick if he decided to leave college early. That was all D, as his friends called him, needed to hear.
    Daschle leaned over my desk and signed his name very slowly. I wondered for a moment if he was having second thoughts. It looked as though he was filling in the holes on a test card rather than signing his name. When he finished, I looked at his signature and chuckled.
    “Daschle, from the looks of this signature, if you don’t make it as a football player then you could