“She was never my girlfriend.” My voice sounded as strained as I felt having to say that. “And it should come as no surprise that I managed to fuck that up too.”
Jack let out a sigh and his voice softened. “Hmm, that’s a shame. She seemed good for ya.”
“Yeah, she was.” I couldn’t argue with that. “I just wasn’t good for her.”
“Well, listen, whatever happened with you guys is in the past. I’ve known you since you were practically a kid. You’re like a son to me. You know that. You gotta do this for you, Max. Whatever needs to happen for you to get this job, you better make it happen. None of your bullshit excuses. Ya understand?” Jack’s voice held the urgency I wish I’d seen in myself lately. “This is yours for the taking. You just gotta take it. You’re not gettin’ a fourth or fifth chance. This is it. You got it?”
“Yeah, I got it, Jack.” I tried to sound upbeat, but even a brief conversation about Lily had affected me in a way that I knew Jack would pick up on.
“I know losin’ that girl did something to you, Max, but ya gotta move past it. You sound like someone just shot your dog. Just go in there next week and be that charismatic son-of-a-bitch who always knows just what to say and how to say it. Sometimes you just gotta know how to get outta your own way and stop bein’ such a *.”
It seemed what was left of Jack’s filter had disappeared with some of the hairs on the top of his head. “Well, you know what they say, Jack. You are what you eat,” I laughed, holding out my arms confidently.
“See,” Jack pointed at me, “now that’s the kinda shit I’m talkin’ about. That’s funny. People like funny. Just say some crap like that.” I could see Jack second-guessing his advice immediately. “Well, maybe not exactly like that. It’s a family show.” I noticed his eyes appraising me. “And for Christ’s sake, lighten up on the hair gel and put on a fuckin’ tie when you go in there. You’re interviewing for a job on a sports network, not auditioning for the cast of The Jersey Shore.”
***
By the time I’d entered the television station the following Tuesday night, I felt ready. The previous week had given me plenty of time to prepare. Despite the fact that I still followed hockey religiously, especially the Flyers, I had felt the need to brush up on my knowledge anyway. I’d spent countless hours online researching current players’ stats from across the league. And I’d watched every pre-and post-game show I could catch for the sole purpose of studying how the hosts conducted themselves: when did they look at the camera? Did they give a candid opinion, or was it more of a political comment aimed to please the masses? All of it was exhausting.
I arrived at 4:30 for the 7:30 game against the Capitals and immediately began prepping for the pre-game show. I studied my notes in the dressing room while some chick brushed my hair back and sprayed it with something to hold it in place. Nothing could break my focus. Well, almost nothing. I’d have to be blind or gay to ignore this woman’s tits as she positioned herself in front of my face so she could dab some makeup on my cheeks. I could get used to this shit.
The evening ran relatively smoothly. I answered direct questions when asked by the other hosts, and gave a truthful, yet tactful opinion. I even managed to make a few off the cuff remarks that elicited a laugh from a few of the guys. I felt that, overall, it had gone as well as to be expected, and I couldn't be happier.
“I think they liked ya, Max,” Jack said when he called later that night. “You did good. Keep this up, and you got a shot.”
“Really? You think so?” I could hear the excitement in my own voice at the thought. It was the first thing I’d done right in . . . well, in a really long fuckin’ time. And it made me pretty damn proud.
Jack and I discussed my next audition, and I knew when I hung up I had a stupid ass grin on my face. I needed to share the good news with someone. I couldn’t just let the excitement I felt linger in my body overnight. I might combust.
So even though it was already late, I called my parents to tell them the news. I mean, there really wasn’t a whole lot to tell other than the fact that I didn’t fuck something up for once, but my mom couldn’t have been prouder.
“Oh, Max, I knew this would happen. I’m so happy for you.” I could hear the pride in her voice when she spoke. “Let me go wake up your father.”
“No, Mom, if Dad’s asleep, I’ll just talk to him tomorrow.”
“Don’t be silly, sweetheart. When you tell him you’re going to be on a television show, he’ll be happy I woke him.”
“Mom, no, not permane—”
My voice was cut off by hers. “Bill, wake up! Max is on the phone. He’s gonna be the host of a hockey show.”