Chapter 31: A Seat at the Table Bonus Chapter

The first couple of weeks in Los Angeles passed faster than anyone in the Bryant house expected.

Every morning followed the same rhythm.

Kobe left the house before sunrise while the rest of the neighborhood still slept, drove through nearly empty streets to the Lakers’ practice facility, signed in with the overnight security guard, and headed straight for the court.

The equipment staff usually had the lights on before he arrived, with a rack of basketballs waiting near one of the baskets.

By the time Gary Vitti walked through the doors carrying his usual cup of coffee, Kobe was already moving through his warm-up.

Somewhere along the way, the routine stopped feeling new.

Gary still corrected him, but not nearly as often.

Instead of explaining every drill, he handed Kobe the day’s workout and watched quietly from the sideline, stepping in only when something genuinely needed adjusting.

What surprised him wasn’t how hard Kobe worked; it was what happened after the workout.

Before Gary could say anything, Kobe was already stretching his hips, rolling out his calves with a length of PVC pipe borrowed from the training room, icing his knees after heavier sessions, and asking questions about hydration, sleep, soft tissue work, and recovery days.

None of it was revolutionary on its own, but very few seventeen-year-olds cared enough to ask.

Gary didn’t always have an answer.

Sometimes he admitted as much.

Other times the two of them spent twenty minutes flipping through old journals or discussing why one method might work better than another.

Somewhere during those conversations, their relationship quietly shifted.

Gary stopped thinking of Kobe as another talented rookie and started treating him like a partner in the process of getting better.

Life away from the gym had begun settling into its own rhythm.

Most of the moving boxes had disappeared, family photos had found their way onto the walls, and the house finally felt lived in.

Joe spent breakfast answering calls from old teammates, coaches, and friends around the league, while Pamela somehow managed to keep everyone organized despite the constant stream of paperwork that came with moving across the country.

Sharia and Shaya adapted the fastest.

Between looking at colleges, meeting new friends, and discovering every corner of Los Angeles, they somehow still found time to remind Kobe that, NBA or not, he was still their annoying little brother.

“You know,” Sharia said over breakfast one day, “our neighbors probably think you’re renting a room instead of living here.” Kobe looked up from his cereal.

“I sleep here.” “Barely,” Shaya replied.

Pamela smiled as she set another plate on the table.

“He was like this in back home too.” Joe folded the book he was reading.

“The difference is somebody finally decided to pay him for it.” The table laughed before the conversation drifted somewhere else.

Kobe liked the routine.

And that morning felt no different.

By the time Gary walked onto the court, Kobe had already finished his warm-up and was working through another shooting series.

Gary took one sip of coffee before shaking his head.

“You’ve got to stop making the rest of us look bad.” Kobe caught the rebound.

“Sounds like a management problem.” Gary laughed.

“I liked you better when you were too tired to answer back.” Before Kobe could respond, the side door opened.

Rob Pelinka stepped onto the hardwood carrying a single manila folder.

That alone caught Kobe’s attention.

Rob was rarely seen without a briefcase.

He crossed the court, nodded toward Gary, then looked at Kobe.

“Can we chat real quick?” Kobe caught the rebound, let one more jumper fly, then watched it fall cleanly through the net.

Gary glanced between the two of them before picking up his coffee.

“I’ll leave you boys to it.” He headed toward the training room, shaking his head as he walked away.

“Don’t keep him too long,” he called over his shoulder.

“I’ve still got another workout planned for him.” Rob waited until Gary disappeared down the hallway before motioning toward the offices.

“Come on.” They made their way down the quiet hallway lined with framed photographs from championship seasons, newspaper front pages, and team portraits spanning decades of Lakers history.

Rob led him into one of the smaller front-office offices used during the offseason and closed the door behind them.

A desk, two chairs, a whiteboard covered with Summer League practice times, and the single manila folder he was carrying.

Rob rested a hand on the folder.

“Good news.” Kobe pulled out the chair across from him.

“I’m listening.” Rob remained standing for a moment before opening the folder.

“West approved it.” Kobe looked up.

“All of it?” Rob nodded.

“Fisher’s already here, so that part was easy.

Wallace and Bowen accepted the invitations this morning.

They’ll report before the end of the week.” For the first time that morning, a smile slipped across Kobe’s face.

“That was quicker than I expected.” “So was his answer.” Rob closed the folder.

“His exact words were, ‘If they want an opportunity, give them one.’ Summer League’s for evaluating players anyway.

Worst case, we spend a few extra dollars on practice jerseys.” Kobe leaned back in his chair.

“I appreciate it.” Rob smiled.

“He’ll thank you himself if they prove you right.” He closed the folder but didn’t move right away.

After a moment, he looked back at Kobe.

“Can I ask you something?” “Sure.” “You seem awfully confident about those two.” Kobe leaned back in his chair.

He was quiet for a moment before answering.

“My dad spent a lot of years fighting for roster spots.” Rob nodded.

“I know.” “When you grow up around that, you stop paying attention to the stars.” He shrugged.

“You notice the guys who are trying to stay in the league or just trying to get in.” Rob listened without interrupting.

“Everybody knows how to spot talent,” Kobe continued.

“Talent gets you drafted.” He tapped the folder lightly with a finger.

“I like paying attention to the guys who refuse to quit.

Those are the ones who usually surprise people.” Rob couldn’t help but smile.

“So you’re scouting mentality.” “Hunger,” Kobe corrected.

“That’s what I’m scouting.” For a moment, neither of them spoke.

“Well, your hungry guys are coming.” A small smile crossed Kobe’s face.

Rob flipped to the next page in the folder.

“Bowen’s finishing up overseas.

His agent expects him back in Los Angeles early next week.

Wallace’s already making arrangements.

If everything stays on schedule, he’ll be here in a few days.” Kobe nodded.

“And Fish?” “He’s in.” Rob couldn’t help but smile.

“He didn’t even let me finish.

As soon as I told him you’d been putting together extra workouts, he said he’d be there.” Kobe laughed quietly.

“Sounds like him.” “He also asked if six in the morning was negotiable.” “It isn’t.” “That’s about what I told him.” Rob closed the folder and rested it on the desk.

He stayed where he was for a moment, his expression shifting from satisfied to thoughtful.

“There is one other thing.” Kobe looked up.

“What’s on your mind?” “The basketball side’s in good shape,” Rob said.

“The legal side is my responsibility.

Contracts, league paperwork, and endorsements—that’s what you hired me for.

But if we’re going to do this right, we need to start thinking beyond basketball.” He slid a legal pad across the desk.

A handful of names had already been written down, each with short notes beside them.

“We’re going to need a CPA, a financial advisor, and eventually someone to help manage your investments.

Down the road, we’ll add insurance, estate planning, and anything else that comes with building a long career.

There’s no rush, but I’d rather have the right people in place before you actually need them.” Kobe studied the page before looking back up.

“I’ve been thinking about that too.” “I don’t want someone whose entire strategy is chasing whatever everyone else is buying,” Kobe said.

“Markets go up, markets go down.

That doesn’t bother me.” Rob leaned back in his chair.

“So what are you looking for?” “Someone who understands businesses.” Kobe paused, choosing his words carefully.

“If I’m going to own part of a company, I want to understand what that company actually does.

How does it make money?

Why it’ll still be around ten or twenty years from now.

If I can’t explain it in a few sentences, I probably shouldn’t be investing in it.” A small smile crossed Rob’s face.

“That’s a more disciplined answer than I get from most veterans.” Kobe nodded but kept going.

“I also don’t want somebody trying to buy and sell stocks every week.

I’d rather find great companies and let time do the work.” “You’d rather invest than trade.” “Exactly.” Rob nodded slowly and made another note.

“That’s easier to build around than you think.” “There are a few industries I’d like us to start researching now,” Kobe continued.

“Technology, communications, and companies building the infrastructure behind all of it.

Computers aren’t going away, and neither is the internet.

I don’t pretend to know every winner, but I’d rather study businesses that are changing how people live than companies chasing short-term trends.” “You already have a few in mind?” Kobe nodded.

“Microsoft, Cisco, and Nike.

Nike is different, but they’ve built something that isn’t just selling shoes anymore.

Brands like that tend to last.” Rob nodded as he jotted down another note.

“I know a couple of advisors who fit that description.

They think long-term, they’re disciplined, and they’re more interested in protecting wealth than chasing headlines.” Kobe nodded.

“Those are the kind of people I’m looking for.” Rob looked up.

“Anything else?” Kobe thought for a moment.

“I don’t need someone who tells me I’m right all the time.

I need someone who’s comfortable pushing back when they think I’m making a mistake.” A small smile crossed Rob’s face.

“You’d be surprised how few athletes ask for that.” Kobe leaned back in his chair.

“If everyone around me always agrees with me, eventually someone stops doing their job.” Rob nodded slowly.

“Fair enough.” Kobe glanced toward the folder.

“I’m building a team, not a fan club.” For a moment, the room fell quiet.

Finally, Rob closed the notebook.

“I’ll set up a few meetings.” “Let’s interview all of them.” Rob raised an eyebrow.

“You don’t want me to make the decision?” Kobe shook his head.

“They’re going to be part of my life for a long time.

I should know who I’m trusting before I hand them that responsibility.” Rob slipped the folder back under his arm and stood.

“I’ll make the calls.” Kobe rose with him, and the two walked out of the office together, making their way back toward the practice court.

The hallway was quiet, the only sounds coming from a ball bouncing somewhere in the gym and the muffled voices drifting out of nearby offices.

As they reached the double doors, Rob slowed.

“One more thing.” Kobe glanced over.

“What’s that?” “Don’t make dinner plans tonight.” “I was just going to head home.” Rob smiled.

“Dr.

Buss would like to have dinner with you.” Kobe raised an eyebrow.

“Just me?” “You and your parents.” Rob rested a hand on the door.

“He likes getting to know the people around his players.

Basketball will come up, but that’s not really what these dinners are about.” Kobe nodded.

“What time?” “Eight.” “I’ll be there.” “I’ll call your parents after I leave and give them the details.” Rob reached for the door, then looked back over his shoulder.

“And don’t worry.” “About what?” “It’s dinner, not a meeting.” Kobe shrugged.

“I wasn’t going to.” Rob headed back toward the front offices while Kobe turned in the opposite direction, following the hallway toward the weight room.

Gary was already inside, adjusting the plates on one of the squat racks.

He glanced up as Kobe walked through the door.

“Done talking business?” KKobe grabbed the towel from the bench and nodded.

“Yeah.” .

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The Bryants pulled into the circular driveway just before eight.

The last light of the evening stretched across the hills, turning the city below into a patchwork of gold and shadow.

Before Joe had a chance to knock, the front door swung open.

Jerry Buss stood there with an easy smile, dressed more like a neighbor hosting a barbecue than the owner of the Los Angeles Lakers.

His sleeves were rolled neatly to his forearms, and there wasn’t a tie in sight.

“Joe,” he said, stepping forward with his hand already out.

“It’s good to see you again.” Joe smiled as they shook hands.

“It’s been a few years.” “A few too many.” Buss stepped back, looking Joe over for a second before laughing.

“You know, you’ve still got the same smile.” Joe grinned.

“I was going to say the same thing, but yours comes with a little more gray.” “A little?” Pamela laughed.

“Don’t encourage him.” Buss threw his head back.

“Pamela, it’s good to see you.” “You too, Jerry.” He turned toward Kobe, offering another handshake.

“Good to see you again.” Kobe nodded.

“You too, Dr.

Buss.” “I figured we’d spent enough time talking basketball before the draft.” Buss opened the door wider.

“Tonight I’d rather just enjoy dinner.” Inside, the house felt surprisingly comfortable.

It was elegant without trying to be.

Family photographs lined the hallway, shelves overflowed with books, and somewhere in the distance soft jazz drifted through the speakers.

As everyone settled around the table, Buss poured drinks himself before sitting down.

“I’ve got to ask,” he said, looking at Joe.

“How’s retirement treating you?” Joe let out a laugh.

“My knees love it.” “And the rest of you?” “My knees remind the rest of me why I retired.” That earned another laugh around the table.

Buss shook his head.

The conversation wandered from Joe’s years overseas to the challenges of raising a family while moving from one country to another.

Buss was genuinely curious, asking what life had been like in Italy and France, how Kobe and his sisters adjusted to each new city, and whether growing up around professional basketball had made the game feel ordinary or even more special.

Joe answered with the easy rhythm of someone remembering old stories.

Basketball surfaced every now and then, but it never stayed long before someone remembered another story worth telling.

Pamela smiled, listening to the two of them bounce stories back and forth.

After a while she leaned toward Kobe.

“They’ve officially reached the age where every story gets better every time they tell it.” “I heard that,” Joe said.

“You were supposed to.” Buss laughed so hard he had to set his glass down.

“You know,” he said once he’d caught his breath, “speaking of stories…” He pointed toward Joe.

“You know, every time your name comes up around the Forum, somebody eventually brings up that dunk over Kareem.” Joe groaned immediately.

“There it is.” “What?” “I knew you were saving one.” Joe shook his head, already smiling.

Buss looked at Kobe.

“Your father looked at Kareem one night and decided seven-foot-two wasn’t reason enough to stay on the ground.” Joe raised a finger.

“I’d like the record to show it only happened once.” “That’s all it takes sometimes.” Even Kobe laughed as Joe leaned back with a satisfied grin.

“I’ve been living off that dunk for almost twenty years.” Pamela looked over without missing a beat.

“And he’ll probably keep living off it for another twenty.” “That’s the plan.” The table erupted again.

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Thank you all again for the incredible support!

Because of that, tomorrow will also be a double chapter release!

Every vote, review, comment, and GIF genuinely motivates me to keep writing.

It’s been amazing watching this community grow, and seeing so many familiar names in the comments every day has become one of my favorite parts of posting.

As always, the bonus goals remain:

See you tomorrow for another double drop…

and Kobe’s first Summer League is almost here.