When Zachary alighted from the bus, he pulled the visor of his cap further down to hide his face. He didn't want to be held down by any other passionate Rosenborg fans that wanted an autograph from him.
He cast a glance at his watch and noticed that it was 10:16 AM, only 14 minutes to the scheduled ti of his eting with Emily. So, without further ado, he quickly began making his way towards Trondheim Square, where he was supposed to be eting Emily and her friend.
As he walked down the street under the morning sun that ward his skin, he felt that the day was postcard perfect. Pedestrians walked like shoals of fish in myriad directions, not a single one of them in heavy clothing. Zachary smiled as he took in the sights around him. He liked the Trondheim with the warr days better.
A few minutes later, he made it to the cafe close to Trondheim Square, where he usually held etings with Emily. But to his surprise, Emily was yet to arrive. So, he settled down in one of the seats of a corner table and ordered so cherry juice as he waited for his agent to arrive.
But he didn't have to wait long. Emily arrived together with her friend shortly after. Zachary did a double-take on seeing the man beside him.
He was the typical Brad Pitt look-alike with a perfect square jaw, blue eyes, and Achilles-golden hair coiffed to perfection. He could have been the ideal male model with his androgynous looks that could easily dazzle the fairer sex. But he had one shortcoming. He was short, probably 5-feet-three, by Zachary's estimation. The man's height betrayed his exquisite appearance.
"Sorry we're late," Emily said as soon as the two of them arrived at Zachary's table. "We got caught in traffic."
"No worries," Zachary replied, standing up and extending his hand for a greeting. "It's only a few minutes. So, I don't really mind."
"That's great," Emily said, taking his hand. "How is your morning?" She inquired.
"Slow," Zachary replied, smiling at her. "I have the day off today. So, a bit bored."
"Then let's help you solve that boredom," Emily said, turning to the short man beside her. "This one here is the friend I previously ntioned. He's Ryan Bellmore, a race car driver. He spends quite a lot of ti in Norway."
"Nice to et you," Ryan Bellmore chipped in, extending his hand for a greeting.
"Nice to et you, too," Zachary replied, taking his hand. "I'm Zachary Bemba."
"Oh, I know who you're," Ryan said, a sunny smile outlining his face. "There's no need for introductions. I watched your match yesterday and that viral post-match interview video of yours this morning. You're sothing."
"Viral post-match video!?" Zachary probed, settling back into the comfort of his seat.
"Yes, your post-interview video that's making headlines around Norway," Ryan said, settling beside Emily in a seat opposite Zachary's.
Zachary's eyes went round on hearing the short guy's response. He inclined his head and searched Emily's face for confirmation while wondering when post-match videos had beco so popular to the point of going viral in Norway.
"Oh, gosh, Zachary!" Emily exclaid, seemingly noticing his surprise and incomprehension. "Don't tell you haven't watched it!" She probed, holding Zachary's gaze.
"Nope," Zachary replied, shaking his head. "This is the first ti I'm hearing about the post-match video going viral. It was just another pointless interview where the journalist asked a few questions about my club and its aspirations. I didn't even expect it to make any news since I found it boring."
Ryan and Emily laughed at that, shaking their heads as if their ears had picked up the world's funniest joke.
"Here, go ahead and watch it," Emily said, holding out her phone to Zachary from across the table. "Tell how off-handedly dismissing one of Norway's most flourishing teams can fail to make the news. You've got to learn that the press loves chaos. If you say anything controversial, they'll capitalize on it because that's what makes good headlines. Your post-match interview was exactly that."
"Oh, but that wasn't my intention," Zachary said, receiving the phone from Emily's outstretched hand. He then started watching the post-match video on Emily's phone.
After watching for a few minutes, he realized that the reporter had omitted so of his statents to make him look more domineering in the video. For instance, he'd only said that he was sure that Rosenborg could continue racking up wins as long as he and his teammates could continue doing their best. But Olav, the reporter, had neglected the "as long as we continue putting up our best" part. Olav made it look like Zachary didn't put the rest of the Tippeligaen teams in his eyes. For the first ti in his career, he realized that journalists were sly foxes, especially when setting people up. The way Olav had edited the video to show his highlights, then seamlessly fixed his statents close to the end, was ingenious. It showed that he was one crafty guy—fully intent on pitting him against the Molde and Str?msgodset fans.
"Do you understand now?" Emily queried on noticing that Zachary had finished watching the video.
"Yes, I do," Zachary replied, handing the phone back to her. "The guy who edited the video was a pro. That explains the incident on the bus when I was on my way here."
"What incident?" Emily queried, narrowing her eyes.
"Well, it's sothing small and not so serious," Zachary replied. He then went on to tell them about how he spent most of the ti on his bus ride to town signing autographs for a few Rosenborg's passionate fans.
Emily chuckled after listening to his account. "Then this video is good for us," she said. "The more your fa increases in Norway and among the Rosenborg fans, the better our situation will be. We'll be able to get juicier endorsent deals if there's nothing controversial about your reputation."
"Maybe," Zachary replied, smiling back at her. "But I still don't get why this went viral. What I said in the interview is already known to every Tippeligaen fan. Rosenborg is the best team in Norway. Just think about it this way: would the Dutch fans have any reaction if a player was to say that Ajax Amsterdam was the best team in the Eredivisie? I don't get why the fans here are overreacting!"
"Well, they would have ignored it if it was any other ti of the season," Ryan chipped in, mopping a hand through his golden hair as if to straighten it further. "However, it's only eleven days remaining to the most heated fixture of the season. That's one of the gas between Rosenborg and Molde. At the mont, the Molde fans are sensitive to anything said about their team by any Rosenborg player. They are even more jittery because their team has been performing poorly since the start of the season. That was why your statents irked them so much that they've taken to social dia to defend their team. So, get ready to face the music and the booing when your team goes against Molde. The Molde fans have already marked you as an outlet for their dissatisfaction."
Zachary smiled. "I'm not afraid of them, not even their team," he said, shaking his head. "Not the way they are playing this season."
Ryan laughed at that. "You know they've got that guy, Ole Gunnar Solskjaer, as their coach," he said, caressing his spade-shaped goatee. "The guy has got an uncanny way of raising his team's morale and performance, especially when there are big matches. I don't know how he does it. You need to watch out."
"No worries," Zachary said. "I'll let the coaches worry about defeating him. Don't you guys want to order anything, by the way?" He asked, sweeping his gaze across both Emily and Ryan.
"Nope," Emily was the first to reply. "Let's not waste ti and get right to business. Ryan!" She added, turning to look at the short man beside her.
Ryan cleared his throat and smiled. "So, Emily tells that you need to buy a good car right away," he said, inclining his head slightly to observe Zachary's face.
"Yes, I would like to buy one," Zachary replied, nodding. "Emily convinced last night that you're the go-to man when one needs to buy a good machine. But I still feel guilty for taking up your ti. Are you sure that this won't affect your schedule! As a race car driver, you must be really busy."
"Not at all," Ryan replied, his smile stretching further into a grin. "Emily must have already ntioned that shopping for cars is one of my hobbies. Moreover, what she forgot to ntion is that I'm also a part-ti dealer. I'm what you call a middleman when buying things."
"Middleman!" Zachary probed, raising a brow and turning toward Emily for confirmation. The latter nodded, validating the statent.
"Yes, a middle man," Ryan continued. "When I'm not on the racing tracks, I work as an interdiary of sorts. I help people buy things. Whether it is housing, cars, art—I can find them all as long as they are within Europe. So, if you ever need to buy anything in the future, you can always find . I'll always be able to help you. That's on commission, of course."
"Oh, now that makes sense since you're a middleman," Zachary said, nodding. "I'm now at ease. But how do you balance racing with being a middle man? As far as I know, every sport is quite demanding, especially with regards to ti."
"Yeah, it's hard balancing the two," Ryan replied, shaking his head. "But I have to since I've got to raise money for my dream, which is racing. Finding organizations interested in motorsport sponsoring is becoming increasingly difficult. Last year, I had to fund myself through four of the races. Had I not made so good money on the side through my interdiary business, I would have gone broke to the point of even sleeping on the streets. Anyways, that aside, if you need my help this ti around, I'm ready to help."
"Okay, I think I'll need your help on this," Zachary said, smiling. "But what's your commission?"
"We're offering 1000 Norwegian Kroner for this," Emily chipped in before Ryan could reply. "Since it's the first eting, you shouldn't have even charged Zachary for your help."
"A man got to eat, but that'll do," Ryan replied, a sheepish smile outlining his face. "Zachary, which kind of vehicle do you need? A sporty one or a sleek one? Do you have any preference for any manufacturers? And what's your budget?"
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