Chapter 25: Transatlantic Tip-Off “I…” I trailed off, the weight of Dev’s offer pressing down on me. My head was a mess, a jumbled highlight reel of everything I was about to leave behind. Dev waited, patient, but with an intensity I hadn’t seen from him before. The low hum of the jail and the clatter of distant noises faded into the background. This was it. This was the moment I decided my future, and it all hinged on a single word. “Okay, Dev,” I said, finally meeting his gaze. “Let’s say… hypothetically… I was considering this… Europe thing. What are we talking about, exactly? What teams? What kind of money?” Dev’s eyes lit up, a spark of genuine excitement flickering in them. The tailored suit suddenly made sense. He wasn't just visiting; he was here to do business. “That’s what I like to hear, Feder,” he said, leaning forward. “Alright, let’s get down to brass tacks. I’ve got connections with a few teams. In Spain, I can get you in with a club in Valencia. Good league, ACB. Tough competition. Italy, there’s a team in Bologna that’s been looking for a point guard with your kind of flash. And Germany… well, Germany’s got options. Berlin, Munich… teams that are hungry, teams that are ready to make a splash.” He paused, letting the information sink in. “As for money? We’re talking serious cash, Jim. Not NBA rookie money, obviously, but enough to live comfortably, support your family if you want to, and…,” he winked, “... maybe buy a few extra pairs of those flashy sneakers you like so much.” I raised an eyebrow. “Comfortably? What does that even mean? Give me numbers, Dev. I’m not signing up for some European vacation on a budget.” Dev chuckled. “Alright, alright, Mr. Feder. Let’s talk numbers. Depending on the team, your experience, your… current situation… we’re looking at somewhere between $300,000 to $500,000 a year. Tax-free, of course.” My eyes widened. That was… a lot. More than I’d ever imagined making at this stage in my career. Enough to make my dad quit his talent agent job and enjoy the rest of his life watching Bucks games. Enough to help my mom with her fashion business. Enough to make sure Keithie and Becky never wanted for anything. “And the contract length?” I asked, trying to keep my voice level. “Ideally, we’re looking at a two-year deal,” Dev said. “That gives you time to prove yourself, adjust to the European game, and… most importantly… get your name back out there. After two years, you’ll be a free agent. You can stay in Europe, negotiate a bigger contract, or…,” he paused, a knowing glint in his eyes, “...come back to the States and finally show everyone what you are really capable of. Duke wouldn't be able to get you anymore, you will be a grown man at that point. You could sign with the NBA, if any team wants you and prove to everyone what you have to prove. In the end you win, and I win by assisting.” “And what about all the legal stuff?” I asked, the reality of the situation starting to sink in. “The assault charges, the table flipping… Will that even let me leave the country?” Dev smirked. “That, my friend, is where my connections come in handy. Let’s just say I know a few people who know a few people. We can get the charges dropped, or at least minimized. The table flipping? That’s just a youthful indiscretion. The assault? Well, that can be… mitigated.” I didn’t press him for details. I didn’t want to know exactly how he planned to pull this off. I just wanted it done. “One more thing,” I said, leaning forward. “What about playing time? Am I going to be riding the bench, or am I going to get a real shot to play?” Dev’s smile widened. “Jim, you’re Jim Feder. Even in Europe, they know who you are. They’ve seen the highlights, the mixtapes, the Duke commitment. You’ll be a starter. A focal point of the offense. They’re not bringing you over there to sit on the sidelines. They want you to put on a show.” I thought about it. Really thought about it. Europe. It was a complete departure from everything I’d ever planned. But it was also a chance. A chance to escape the media frenzy, the legal troubles, the Valeria drama. A chance to focus on basketball, to rediscover my love for the game. A chance to prove myself, not just to the scouts and the coaches, but to myself. I thought about my family. My mom, who would probably cry for a week straight if I moved across the Atlantic. My dad, who always dreamed of seeing me play in the NBA. Greg, who would never let me live it down if I ran away. Keithie, who looked up to me. Becky, who would miss my stupid nicknames and weird voices. But I also thought about the alternative. A trial, a potential prison sentence, a ruined reputation. A life spent under the shadow of my mistakes. I looked at Dev, his eyes filled with a mixture of confidence and something that almost looked like… hope? “Alright, Dev,” I said, extending my hand. “You’ve got yourself a deal.” Dev’s grip was firm, his smile genuine. “That’s the best decision you have ever made, Jimmy! "So how long until I have to leave?" "Well I can fast track it. How about by tonight?" My eyes grew large. "TONIGHT? Bro I gotta pack. And my family..." "Don't worry about your family. If you're lucky, I can get them plane tickets, or let you skype them." We shook again and he turned to leave. “One more thing, Dev.” He stopped, turning back to face me. “Yeah?” “Thanks,” I said, the word feeling foreign on my tongue. “For… you know… giving me a shot.” Dev just smirked. “Don’t mention it, Feder. Just don’t screw it up.” As he walked away, I felt a strange mix of emotions swirling inside me. Relief, excitement, fear, regret. But beneath it all, there was a flicker of hope. A sense of cautious optimism. A feeling that maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something new. The jail cell suddenly felt smaller, the walls closing in. I needed to get out of here. I needed to start packing. I needed to tell my family. I stood up and started pacing the cell, trying to figure out my next move. I imagined my mother's reaction, and chuckled slightly. My thoughts were interrupted as the guard approached me. "Feder, someone's here to bail you out." I didn't respond. The guard scoffed. "You deaf or somethin'? Rich Paul is here to bail you out, come on." As I walked out, I saw Rich Paul leaning on the hood of his car. "What's up Rich," I said. "Don't even start Jim, I am so pissed right now. You're lucky Dev Malik called me before things could have gotten worse." "Dev called you? I thought you guys didn't like each other." "Well we don't, but Dev has some serious pull. He pulled so many strings to get the higher ups from TMZ to let us get away with what you did, and he asked me to bail you out, or else he couldn't fulfill his end of the deal." "What does that even mean? What is his end of the deal?" "I can't say for legal reasons, but the less you know, the better. You just gotta trust me on that." "So I'm free?" "Yeah, I paid for bail. Thank god you aren't getting charged with any serious crimes. Well you are, but Malik is gonna cover it." "So what now?" "Get your stuff, we're leaving tonight." "Tonight? I gotta tell my family, and Demitra..." "Look, I know this is hard, but you can't tell anyone. Especially Demitra, since she is gonna make you stay. Are you packed?" "No, I have a few clothes here. I'll go pick them up in the Bronx." "That's what I'm here for, that idiot Malik got a truck to transport your stuff from the Bronx to your house, you pack, then we get you to the airport." We began driving. "Rich, do you think I'm doing the right thing?" "I don't know Jim. All I know is that if I were you, I'd do anything for some peace." As we continued driving, I got a text from Demitra saying "Hey Jim, can we talk? About what you did, and the fight..." I turned my phone off. We arrived at the safe house, and the movers were right behind us. I grabbed my stuff and threw it in a suitcase, ignoring the mess I had made. "You're really moving on with this, huh?" Rich asked. "Yeah, I gotta do this." "Alright, alright. Don't say I didn't warn you when you get homesick." We laughed, but I knew he was serious. We arrived at my house, and I walked in to see my family watching TV. "Jim! You're okay!" My mom ran up to me and hugged me tightly. "Yeah, I'm fine Mom. Just gotta pack some stuff." "Pack? Where are you going?" "I can't say Mom, but I promise I'll be back soon." "What do you mean?" "I mean I have to leave, but I'll be back, that's all you need to know." "Jim, I don't understand. Where are you going?" "I can't say Mom, I'm sorry." "Jim, don't do this." "I have to Mom, please understand." "I don't understand, where are you going?" I couldn't say anything. I just ran to my room and started throwing clothes in a bag. "Jim, what are you doing?" "I'm leaving, Mom. I have to." "No, you don't! You can stay here, with us!" "I can't Mom, I have to go. I promise I'll be back soon." "No! Don't leave me!" My mom started crying, and I felt terrible. "Mom, please don't cry. I'll call you every day, I promise." "No! I don't want you to leave!" I hugged my mom tightly, trying to comfort her. "Mom, I have to go. Please understand." "No! I don't understand!" I pulled away from my mom and started packing again. I could hear her sobbing, but I couldn't look at her. I had to do this. I finished packing and walked out of my room, my suitcase in hand. My family was standing in the living room, their faces filled with sadness. "I'm sorry," I said, my voice cracking. "I have to go." I walked out of the house, Rich following behind me. I didn't look back. We drove to the airport in silence. I was numb, my mind racing with thoughts of my family, Demitra, and the unknown future that lay ahead. Rich dropped me off at the gate, and we shook hands. “Take care of yourself, Jim,” he said, his voice sincere. “And don’t do anything stupid.” I nodded, managing a weak smile. “I’ll try.” As I walked through security, I glanced back one last time, hoping to see my family. But they weren’t there. I took a deep breath and walked towards the gate, my heart heavy with regret. I needed to do something. I grabbed my phone. After a few rings, she answered. “Hey, Demitra. It’s me, Jim.” My voice sounded rough, foreign. There was a pause, a beat of silence that felt like an eternity. “Jim? What’s going on? I’ve been trying to reach you all day. Everyone’s talking about the café, the arrest…” I took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “Look, Demitra, I… I wanted to tell you something. In person, but… I don’t have time.” “Tell me what? Jim, you’re scaring me.” Her voice was laced with concern. “I’m leaving, Demitra. I’m leaving the country.” The silence on the other end was deafening. I could almost hear her thoughts racing, trying to make sense of what I was saying. “Leaving? What do you mean, leaving? Where are you going?” “Europe,” I said, the word hanging in the air. “I’m going to play basketball in Europe.” “Europe? But… Duke? The NBA? What about everything we talked about?” Her voice was barely a whisper. “I know, I know,” I said, my voice laced with regret. “But I can’t stay here, Demitra. Not after everything that’s happened. I need to get away. I need to start over.” “But… what about us?” she asked, the question filled with a pain that pierced my heart. I closed my eyes, the image of her face flashing in my mind. Her smile, her laugh, her gentle touch. The way she made me feel… calm, grounded, hopeful. “There is no us Demitra! You can move on!" “I…” I swallowed hard. “I’m sorry, Demitra. I really am. But I can’t do this right now. I can’t be the person you need me to be. I’m too messed up, too broken.” “But you can fix it, Jim! You can get help. You don’t have to run away.” “I know,” I said, my voice barely audible. “But I need to do this. For myself. I need to figure things out on my own.” “And what about me? Don’t I get a say in this?” Her voice was rising, frustration and hurt bubbling to the surface. “I know it’s not fair,” I said, my voice laced with desperation. “And I’m sorry. But I promise I’ll stay in touch. I’ll call, I’ll text, I’ll… I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work. But I need you to understand. I need you to let me go.” There was another long pause, the silence broken only by the muffled announcements echoing through the airport. “I don’t understand, Jim,” she said finally, her voice choked with emotion. “But… I guess I have to respect your decision.” “Thank you,” I said, the words feeling hollow. “Thank you for everything, Demitra. For being there for me, for listening, for… for everything.” “Just… promise me one thing, Jim,” she said, her voice trembling. “Anything,” I said, my heart aching. “Promise me you won’t forget about me. Promise me that one day, when you’re ready, you’ll come back.” “I promise,” I said, the words leaving my lips like a vow. “I promise I’ll never forget about you. And I promise that one day, if you’ll still have me, I’ll come back.” A final boarding call crackled over the speakers, jolting me back to reality. “I have to go, Demitra,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. “My flight’s boarding.” “Okay,” she said, her voice barely audible. “Goodbye, Jim.” “Goodbye, Demitra,” I said, my hand trembling as I ended the call. I stood there for a moment, staring at my phone, the weight of my decision crushing me. I had just said goodbye to my family, my friends, my life. And to the one person who had made me believe that maybe, just maybe, I could be something more.