Picking Up the Pieces (Pieces, #2)(43)

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 f*ckin’ 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 f*ckin’ 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 f*ck 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.”

I heard the click of another phone pick up, and my dad’s voice bellowed across the line. “Hey, buddy, is that true? See? I told ya, doll,” he said to my mom, “we just needed to give him a little time.”

“Uh, I’m not on a hockey show yet. I mean, I’ll be on TV here and there, but it’s nothing permanent. I won’t know ‘til the end of the season if I got the job.”

“Oh, don’t be so pessimistic,” my mom replied. “You’ll get it. I just know it. Did you tell Lily? She’s gonna be so happy for you.”

***

I’d thought that sharing the news of my audition with my parents would assuage the excitement coursing through my veins. Like I would experience some sort of magical transference of energy from my body to theirs.

It didn’t work.

And with the mention of Lily’s name, my heart raced a little bit more and my already fidgety hands began to visibly tremble. But my mom was right: Lily would be ecstatic.

So why was I so nervous to tell her? She’d be happy for me, if for no other reason than I had tried to do something to better myself. I’d finally tried to take a few steps in the right direction instead of sitting around on my ass, waiting for life to come to me.

But the more I thought about how unconditionally supportive she’d been of me lately, the more I realized why I was so anxious. Though trying might be good enough for Lily, it would never be good enough for me.

I didn’t come in second place. To anyone. I wasn’t some f*cking seven-year-old who’d gotten a trophy for participating. I was Max f*cking Samson. And I was a f*cking winner.

***

My restless night had afforded me time to decide whether or not I wanted to tell Lily about the audition. If I told her, I knew I’d have to get the job or risk being embarrassed that she’d know I’d lost it to someone else. And I couldn’t let that happen.