When I’d agreed to meet Jack for dinner at a steakhouse in the city, I hadn’t anticipated being so anxious about it. But as I buttoned up my shirt and took a look in the mirror, the enormity of our meeting’s importance finally set in. Jack hadn’t told me the specifics of the job opportunity—mostly because I hadn’t given him the chance to until then—but I knew it had the potential to turn into something more permanent. And that knowledge was enough to keep me on edge.
I ran some gel through my hair and played around with the strands until I created a perfectly messy look. You’re meeting your agent, not a potential lay, you asshole. But if I were honest with myself, I knew why the knots in my stomach had been growing steadily since I’d made reservations to meet up with Jack: I found the prospect of permanently living there incredibly appealing. I told myself it was because Philadelphia was where I’d grown up, the place I called home. My family was there. My friends.
But I knew what the real reason was. Or rather who. Lily had let me back into her life, and I wanted to keep it that way. I was done fucking things up. Done being a fuck-up. The good things in life weren’t going to just find me while I sat at home in bed hungover with last night’s blowjob sound asleep next to me. If I wanted to make something of myself, I’d have to be the one to do it.
This realization was what had finally led me to call Jack back and arrange a meeting with him. Well, that and the fact that Lily called me out on my lack of initiative. It didn’t take her long after my birthday dinner to ask me what the hell we were really doing with one another. She had been trying to help me get my shit together, but I was being a stubborn ass, as usual. Here she was putting effort into our friendship, and I had still been shittin’ around making no progress at all. When we’d first agreed to meet up a few months ago, it had been under the pretense that I’d start making some changes. And up until now, I’d made none. If I didn’t start getting my shit together soon, I had a strong feeling I’d lose her. And I couldn’t let that happen twice.
***
“Well, it’s about damn time,” Jack said when I took a seat across from him in the brown leather booth. “I feel like I’m seeing a fuckin’ ghost. What the hell have you been up to?”
“Uh . . . not a whole lot. That’s kinda why I’m here, right? But we have all night to talk business. How’s Gretchen? And the kids?” Though I was anxious to know about the job, I felt guilty for not keeping in touch with Jack. He’d looked out for me more times than I could count. I’d known him for nearly ten years. He was more than just an agent. I could count on him to be a friend.
“Eh, you know . . . the wife’s good. She’s still a nurse at CHOP. I keep telling her she should retire soon, but she loves it. Megan’s in her second year at Penn State. She’s probably at some party as we speak. I don’t even wanna think about it. And John graduates in May. He got a pretty good internship in D.C. this year. They’re gonna hire him on after graduation. Some political shit I know nothin’ about.”
“Nice. Who knew your stupid ass could produce such intelligent offspring.”
“Well, the brains come from Gretchen. That’s for damn sure,” he said with a laugh as he lifted his glass and took a swig of the dark liquid. “And probably their looks too, now that I think about it. As you can probably tell, I rarely miss a meal these days.” He patted himself on his stomach, which had gotten slightly rounder since the last time I’d seen him over a year ago. “Now let’s eat.”
Once the small talk—along with our steamed seafood appetizer—was out of the way, the conversation turned to the real reason for our meeting. “So listen,” Jack said. “It’s pretty simple. You know the show On Thin Ice, right?” he asked without waiting for me to answer. “Well, they want some former players to do a couple of guest spots during the next few months. You know, interview a few players, give your opinion on a game here and there . . . that kinda crap. Nothin’ to it. At the end of the season, they’re gonna pick one guy to stay on permanently.”
“Nothin’ to it,” I repeated, though I wasn’t so sure.
“Yeah, just go in there and be you,” he said, gesturing at me with his free hand and taking a sip of his drink with the other. “Well, maybe not the you of late. That one’s been a fuckin’ moron recently. But you know that.” Pausing for a moment, he seemed to be deciding whether to continue or leave the topic alone. Unfortunately, he didn’t. “What happened anyway? You started gettin’ your shit together toward the end of last season when you were with that cute girlfriend of yours. You know, the one you took to your Atlantic City gig.”