The football completely soared past my head, landing in a bush just feet away.

"Really, Bryan? Asshole." I shake my head, running to get it and whipping it back at him.

The ball hits him square in the chest, slipping through his fingers with a thud as the wind gets knocked out of him.

"Not cool, man. You could have bruised my lungs."

"Yeah, pretty sure that isn't a thing, and you're fine. Call someone else to kiss and make it better."

He wags his eyebrows. "Maybe I'll call Samantha. You know she likes me better dude."

Recently, my girlfriend had spent a rare night at my apartment, and Bryan had invited himself to be the third wheel no matter how many times I tried to signal that he was cock-blocking me. I finally had to tell him to get out or we were going to fuck right in front of him, and then he asked if I had popcorn. The bastard.

But I was glad that Samantha liked him, they had a similar humor and it was always nice when two of the most important people in your life got along.

"Keep dreaming, idiot."

My phone begins to ring, interrupting our immature measuring session.

"Hello?"

"Is this Jake Brady?"

The voice doesn’t sound familiar. “Yes, it is, can I ask who’s calling?”

“This is Melinda Harkness from the Foodie Conglomerate. I’m not sure if you’ve heard of us, but we saw your truck at the festival last month and were very impressed. After speaking with your marketing associate, we would like to pose to you the idea of opening up a retail storefront here in DC.”

Ringing. In my ears. That must be it. Because she could not possibly have said what I thought she just said.

She can’t have possibly just said what I think she said.

“I ... I know who you are. I’m sorry, I’m usually better at speaking on a professional level, or at all, but I’m a little in shock.”

Great, I sound like some eight-year-old fan boy meeting Captain America. She’s going to pull the deal from me.

Melinda laughs. "No worries at all, Jake, I understand what a big deal it is. Hey, I can say that because I own the company who gives culinary artists their dreams.”

Did she just call me a culinary artist? I may spin around in a circle like a girl who was just asked to prom by her crush.

“Thank you for understanding.” I clear my throat, trying to be a little more professional. “So how does this process work? What do you need from us? Where do we go from here?”

Melinda chuckles again. “Well, let’s set up an intro meeting first, and we can answer all of those questions. I’ll have the most important parts of our staff, designers and marketing and business planners, in on the meeting so that we can start discussing everything from paint colors to social media strategy. We are very interested in Cones & Corks … and think it has a lot of potential.”

My mind was like a speeding train, almost swerving off the tracks. There were so many thoughts, so many ideas that had been sitting dormant, and now I could finally dare to think about them.

“That sounds great. When works best for you?” I could barely think about the words I was forcing myself to speak.

Bryan was looking at me like I was standing in the middle of the park humping a monkey. My face probably looked insane, and I wouldn’t be surprised if I was shaking like a leaf.

“I’ll have my assistant email you to set something up. We’re looking forward to this, Jake. Have a great weekend.”

“You too, thank you.” I can barely process anything, and have a hard time functioning to even hang up the phone.

I have to call Alice. I have to call Samantha. I have to slam a shot or fuck the shit out of my girlfriend. There is so much adrenaline pumping through my system right now that I don’t know what to do.

“Dude, did you just win the lottery or something? Or did someone die? Shit … that is insensitive of me. Fuck, uh … are you okay?” Bryan won’t stop rambling, as he tends to do, and a cackle starts in the back of my throat.

I start laughing like a lunatic, and I’m pretty sure people in the park are beginning to stare. Jamming my fingers to my phone, I quickly call the one person who will freak out as much as I am.

After three rings I get her voicemail. “This is Alice. If you’re going to give me money, kindly leave a message. If you’re just trying to be friendly, fuck off.”

Jesus, good thing I made her get that second cell phone for business calls. Lord only knows how she would have screwed us out of a restaurant deal with a voicemail like that.

“Hey weirdo, call me back ASAP.”

I hang up, needing to do a cartwheel or something to burst out the amount of energy coursing through my system.

“Helloooo?” Bryan snaps his fingers in front of my face.

“We are getting a storefront …” I trail off, imagining the lines of people standing out front, waiting to try our latest creation.

“What?” While my friend is supportive, he knows absolutely nothing about the business.

“A group of restaurant investors wants to give Cones & Corks its own store … we’d have our own location to serve customers from seven days a week instead of just the trucks.”

I sit, suddenly feeling dizzy. I’m like a damsel in distress … only everything is bright and shiny and I’m a hairy man.

“Seriously?! That’s awesome. So when does it open?” He sits beside me, lounging so that his face is turned toward the sun.

I really want Alice to call me back so that we can start discussing, but part of me seizes up when Bryan asks that question. It’s going to take a lot of time and hard work, decisions and compromises and working with construction crews.

There is even a chance it won’t happen. I’ve talked to plenty of restaurant owners in this city who almost didn’t even make it off the ground, and those who failed inside a year. Doubt begins to creep in, and now I kind of don’t want to talk about … don’t want to jinx it.

“Well, we have to sit down and have a meeting first. Plenty of meetings actually … I’m sure we’ll meet with designers and marketing teams, not to mention the financial aspect of it. They may only give us a certain amount to play with. It’s all kind of up in the air, and while it’s good, there is a chance a store could never come to fruition.”

I downplay my excitement, because my words are true. I have to be smart about this. If there is anything I’ve learned from being the black sheep of my family, it’s that you never reveal your cards until all of the hands are dealt. So until I’m standing under the Cones & Corks sign outside of our store, I’m not going to get my hopes up.

“Still man, this shit is exciting. Hey, maybe I can finally work for you? Store Manager Bryan, that has a nice ring to it you gotta admit.” He elbows me.

“Yeah, I think not. You can have one free cone a week … that’s it. I’ve got a business to run.”

He pouts and starts to talk about loyalty, but I tune him out.

It feels like my life just turned a major corner, and I don’t know if I’m going to walk away free floating, or smack into a closed door just on the other side.