My hands involuntarily clenched, but I controlled myself. “You can’t hold me back. That’s not fair.”
“I didn’t say I was holding you back. But I need to give myself some outs, in case you go rogue on me like you did last year.”
“Last year was…that was different,” I mumble, suddenly unsure of myself.
“Last year was a royal fuck up,” he replied, suddenly getting to his feet. “You were ready then, too. Sure, it would have meant fighting overseas, but the money was great and a couple of wins would have guaranteed you a contract with the UFF. What did you do? You went fucking psycho and made me look like an asshole.”
“I didn’t go psycho.”
“Whatever,” Jansen said. “We can agree to disagree on the clinical term for that stunt you pulled last year. The bottom line is that it can’t happen again.”
“I know.”
“And the fact that you screwed up once, means I need to have a backup plan. So I’ve got Uriah on standby.”
I shrugged. “Fine.”
Jansen came over and sat on the edge of the desk, looking at me. His face softened. “This is good news, Justin. Next month, Drew wants to see you step up and fight one more time. If you win, he’s going to offer you a three-fight deal with the UFF.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. My head was spinning, my heart racing.
“Are you sure?”
Coach smiled, a rarity. “I’m sure.” He held out his hand. “Tell me again that you’re ready, and say it like you mean it.”
“Hell yes, I’m ready,” I said.
***
I felt like Norm, coming into Cheers, as I walked into O’Doyle’s and was greeted by shouts of “JB!” from Taryn and Big Timmy.
As usual, there were just a few old barflies hanging out and nursing their drinks, a baseball game on the television, the things I’d come to expect.
I pulled up a stool as Taryn came over, smirking. “You look like the cat that caught the canary,” she said.
“What does that even mean?”
“It means you look damn proud of yourself.”
“That’s because I am.”
Big Timmy sauntered by, slapping my shoulder, as he headed to his station outside the front door. He was carrying his magazine in the other hand.
“So, what’s going on?” Taryn asked, leaning over the bar.
I looked at her, trying to see her objectively. We’d known each other for years, and it was hard to think of her as anything other than that same crazy chick who’d run around drinking forties and smoking weed with me on Friday nights when we were supposed to be home in bed.
She was blond, with green eyes and high cheekbones—typical Irish chick. But I could see that anyone would find her pretty, maybe even beautiful in the right circumstance. I knew that she still had feelings for me, but the fact was, I always felt more like she was my kid sister or something. The days of us hooking up were in the past and always would be, as far as I was concerned.
“Nothing’s going on, really,” I said, suddenly less anxious to tell her the big news about my deal with the UFF. “I’m just trying to have a positive attitude.”
“Oh.” She seemed to sense I wasn’t being totally honest. There was a faint look of hurt in her eyes. “Well, do you want anything?”
“Just a Sam Adams and a turkey sandwich.”
She pursed her lips, nodding. “One Sam, coming up.” And then she walked away.
For some reason, I didn’t want to share my excitement with Taryn and the regulars at O’Doyle’s. I wanted to tell somebody else. I wanted to tell Lindsay.
The realization made me a little angry. Why was I still even thinking about her?
What did she have to do with anything?
Taryn put the Sam Adams bottle down. “Your sandwich will be out in a minute,”
she said. “You look preoccupied, JB. Something’s going on with you.”
I sighed, taking a long swig of beer. “I think I might be going crazy,” I admitted.
“Oh, yeah? Well, it wouldn’t be the first time, would it?”
“But this time, it’s about a girl.”
Taryn’s eyes flashed something—maybe anger, maybe disappointment—but then she recovered. “Girl problems are my specialty.”
“Bullshit.”
“I’m a girl, JB. I know how they think. So go on and spill the beans, already.
What happened? Who is she?”
I couldn’t help it, I had to talk to somebody. So I started to tell Taryn about meeting Lindsay, and then going to her dorm room and the whole thing. Taryn shook her head a few times in disbelief. Finally, when I was finished, she put her head in her hands.
“Oh my God, JB. What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Come on, it’s not that bad.”
She peered up at me. “Yes, it’s that bad. You don’t get it. She’s not just some townie from Southie. This girl is sophisticated and serious. She’s going to Cambridge University.”
“What, am I supposed to be intimidated by that? Does that make her better than me?”
“No, but it makes her different. Look at you, in your grass-stained jeans and t-shirt, drinking a beer before five on a weekday. That’s not the kind of guy who’s going to impress someone like her.”