David sat on the couch, phone in hand, still staring skeptically at Jonathan. The man was nervously fumbling with the phone, mumbling apologies into it. "Sir, my Ole, sorry for the delay... I’m with my client now," Jonathan stamred.
David raised an eyebrow. "What client?"
Jonathan imdiately covered the phone and whispered in David’s direction, "Do you want the deal or not?"
David frowned, clearly annoyed. "Is this for real?"
Jonathan, trying to hold it together, quickly turned back to the phone and spoke into it. "Sir, sorry, we’re having network issues. My client here would like to talk to you." He handed the phone to David, who shot him a pointed look.
David reluctantly took the phone and spoke into it, his tone cold. "Hello, Mr. So-Called Ole. I still don’t believe this is really you. I’d love to do a video call if you’re serious."
Jonathan let out a yelp, startled by David’s harshness, and yanked the phone back. "Sir, I’m sorry! My client just needs a little more proof! He’s overwheld by all of this!" Jonathan pleaded, his voice shaky.
Ole, surprisingly calm, chuckled through the phone. "It’s okay. I’ll switch the call to video. Hand him the phone."
David’s skepticism was at an all-ti high, but he held the phone up to his face. As he did, a video request appeared on his screen. He hesitated but clicked it. A familiar face popped up—Ole Gunnar Solskjaer, the Manchester United manager, smiling at him.
"Hello, David. Do you believe now?" Ole asked, a friendly grin on his face.
David froze, stunned. His mind was racing. "This has to be fake. Is this so kind of deep fake?" he muttered, half to himself.
Jonathan’s voice ca from the phone, angry now. "Hey! Don’t disrespect him!"
David, still in shock, cleared his throat. "Sir, if this is real, it’s an honor to be talking to you."
Ole laughed. "The pleasure is all mine, David. Like your agent must have told you, we’d like you wearing Manchester red this sumr. That is, if football returns amidst all this COVID ss."
David nodded absently, still unsure. "Wait, my agent?" he asked, his voice dripping with skepticism. He looked at Jonathan, who was signaling him frantically.
David frowned. "Yeah, my agent," he said slowly.
Ole smiled. "During your match against us, how was Old Trafford?" he asked.
David’s face lit up as he recalled the experience. "Electric. It’s the best stadium I’ve ever played in. The crowd felt different, everything felt different."
Ole leaned forward, his voice growing more engaging. "Well, imagine playing there week in and week out."
David was caught up in the excitent. "That would sound great," he said, nodding enthusiastically.
Ole then continued, offering promises of starting in the right-wing position for Manchester United. David, clearly entranced by the thought of playing there, nodded along.
"That’s great. We’ll send the official bid to your agent, and the club awaits us," Ole concluded.
David, still in disbelief, muttered, "That’s great."
Ole smiled one last ti. "I’ll let you go for now, David. It’s been a pleasure speaking with you."
"Thank you, sir," David replied, still stunned.
After the call ended, Jonathan was practically jumping up and down with excitent. "Oh my God, kid, you don’t know how big this is! We’re made, kid! Made!"
David rolled his eyes. "I don’t know why you’re so happy. It’s not like you’re my agent or sothing."
Jonathan’s smile imdiately deflated. "Kid, I just got you the deal of a lifeti. Are you serious?"
David shook his head. "No. My skills and talents got this deal, not you. You just happened to be the dium to deliver it."
Jonathan chuckled nervously, still trying to hold onto his hope. "Ha, ha, nice joke, kid. But seriously, you’re going to need an agent, won’t you?"
David eyed Jonathan, taking in the sight of his tattered suit. "One that’s probably professional and can afford a suit," he said dryly.
Jonathan’s face fell. "Kid... no, Mr. Jones, please don’t do this. Just give a chance to convince you. I could make you a big star!"
David raised an eyebrow. "I don’t need your help for that," he said firmly. "Now, please, just leave my house."
Jonathan, defeated, handed David his greasy, crumpled business card. As David stared at it, he couldn’t help but roll his eyes before tossing it onto the desk. His mind, however, had begun to shift.
Wait. What about Derby County? He had been so caught up in the prospect of Manchester United that he’d completely forgotten about his current team.
As David thought about this, he noticed the headphones he had dropped earlier vibrating. He picked them up and put them on.
"Wait, you’re still here?" he asked.
"Of course I am," ca Zoey’s voice through the headset. "And I heard everything. Manchester United? That’s huge! I never knew you were that good."
David sighed. "Well, I told you so."
Zoey’s tone was teasing. "Well, congrats, man."
David weakly responded, "Yeah, thanks."
Zoey’s tone softened. "What’s wrong? I expected you to be more joyful than this."
David hesitated before speaking. "It’s my current team. They gave my first break. If I agree to this... doesn’t that an I’m abandoning them?"
Zoey was quiet for a mont. "Wait, I don’t get it. How exactly are you abandoning them?"
David sighed again. "I only joined Derby in the January window. If I accept the Manchester United deal, it ans I’ve only played half a season with them."
Zoey understood now. "I had the sa issue once. I was on a team, and I had an opportunity to move, but it ant leaving them high and dry. So..?"
David looked at the ceiling, his mind swirling. "What did you decide?"
Zoey responded without hesitation. "Of course I left them. I took the deal and never looked back. I’ve never regretted that decision."
David, now a little more thoughtful, nodded slowly. "Of course..."
Zoey’s voice brightened again. "I’m in this for , myself, and I. What about you? Why did you decide to be a footballer?"
David smiled slightly. "For myself... and my family."
Zoey chuckled. "Then that’s your answer."
David paused for a long mont, still unsure. "Yeah... still not sure what to do."
Zoey’s voice ca through again, confident. "Well, let’s play a few rounds, yeah? I want to use your future team—let congratulate you properly!"
David laughed. "Oh, you are so on."
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