“So we’re in agreement about Franklin McCaw?” Hank drops the empty soy sauce packet on the counter and licks his finger. I didn’t want any chicken fried rice from the shitty chain restaurant down the street anyway. But seeing how much MSG he’s added makes my stomach roll. I swear he’s addicted to the stuff.
“I think so.” I flip through the papers, looking at the kid’s stats again. He came out of nowhere recently, and we knew we’d run across someone special. He’s good. Real good. Nine interceptions over seven games for a 1.3 average. He could easily be first string by his sophomore year. “We need to start grooming a couple more cornerbacks. I think he’s got what it takes.”
Hank plops down in the chair across from me, still eating straight from the takeout box. “I still can’t believe we got him. How did no one find this kid before?”
“He’s from a Triple-A school in the middle of nowhere Illinois. If Lennox hadn’t tipped me off, I never would have opened up his highlight reel.”
“That Lennox guy looking for a job? I’m sure we could make room on the coaching staff for him.”
I smile and shake my head, grabbing a shitty eggroll out of the brown paper sack. “Pretty sure he’s not going anywhere now that he’s in a new relationship.”
“Fucking young love. I hate recruiting, I was hoping to pass it off to him.”
I chuckle under my breath as I put Franklin’s paperwork aside. “But who will we have keeping an ear to the ground for us if we move him here?”
He signs in resignation. “Okay, fine. We’ll keep doing all this bullshit ourselves. So where does that leave us?”
I flip through a few more papers, making sure I’ve got accurate information. “Uh . . . so we’re recommending McCaw for the full ride.” I make the note on my legal pad and cross out a couple other ideas we’ve had. “We only have a partial, but what if we give it to Anderson?”
Hank looks up and thinks while he chews and swallows. “Brian Anderson? I thought we already give him money.”
“I think we do.” A few more flips of the papers and I find what I’m looking for. “Okay, yeah. We give him tuition and expenses, but room and board come out-of-pocket.” Leaning back, we begin tossing around our thoughts. “He’s a good player. Solid on the field. Gets along with his teammates. Keeps his grades up and doesn’t cause trouble.”
He tosses the now empty container on the table and leans back. “You sure we don’t want to use it to incentivize a quarterback recruit?”
“We could. But we’ve already got first and second string covered. Honestly, after talking to Anderson over the holidays, I’m worried we’re gonna lose him if his parents can’t afford to keep him here. We need a solid linebacker more than we need a third string QB right now. Anderson’s good. His stats are solid, and he helps us win.”
“Plus, it’d make your girlfriend happy if her little friend ended up with a full ride.”
“Oh, please. She doesn’t care one way or another who we throw scholarships at.”
“Don’t fool yourself, Pride. I know she’s got a soft spot for that kid after they took that class together.” I know he’s just poking at me, but I see the challenge in his eyes. He knows the personal connection isn’t why I’m recommending Anderson, but he needs to make really sure.
I look him dead in the eye and say, “I wouldn’t have known his financial situation if Joie hadn’t put together the holiday meals, but that’s as far as the personal relationship goes. And I don’t use my job to stay in my girlfriend’s good graces. I don’t need to.”
“You sure about that?”
Looking down, I make a few notes on my legal pad again—mostly easy access statistics to justify our decisions. “What are you talking about?”
“I saw her walk out of here. There was mighty thick tension following behind her.”
Stopping with my notes, I look up at Hank. He may be an asshole and a pain to work with sometimes, but he’s still my best friend and right now, I could use his advice. I sigh and toss my pen on the table. “It was that obvious, huh?”
He looks at me like I’m crazy for not recognizing it myself. “Are you kidding? She ran out of here so fast I thought her panties were on fire. And that woman likes me. So if she’s not stopping to chit chat, then yeah, it’s obvious. What’d you do wrong?”
Scrubbing my face with my hand, I realize he’s right. I’ve tried to pretend it has nothing to do with me, but considering she barely gave me a peck on the lips on her way out the door, it’s clear I’m missing something.
“I honestly don’t know,” I admit. “Her biology class is giving her trouble, so she’s really stressed about finals. And Isaac’s dad showing up is really making her crazy.”
Hank grimaces. “I hate when the daddies show up. It always fucks with these kids’ heads.”
“Tell me about it. He’s handling it pretty good, so far, but Joie isn’t doing as well.” Shaking my head at the situation, all I feel is exasperated. “I don’t know how to make it a less shitty situation.”
“Pfft. I do,” Hank retorts, causing me to raise an eyebrow at the shift in conversation. “Stop being so hard to live with.”
I roll my eyes and pick up my pen to make more notes. I need advice, not jokes so I might as well get back to work. “We’re doing fine living together, Hank.”
“Really? Because you’re a pig.”
“What does that mean?”
He cocks his head and looks at me for a few seconds. It’s unnerving because I know he’s choosing his words carefully. Hank never does that, so when he does, it puts me on edge.
“Remember when you stayed with me for a couple weeks after your house sold and before the apartment was ready?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“A lot. You drove Renee crazy, never picking up after yourself and always leaving shit everywhere. She almost kicked your ass out a couple times, it made her so mad.”
“Why didn’t she?”
“I’m too good at using oral to make her relax.” I smack my hand on my face, but he doesn’t slow down. “Renee’s pretty chill. We’ve raised a lot of kids, so not much bothers her. And if you drove her crazy, I can just imagine how Joie feels. I saw the color-coded Thanksgiving binders and the big rolly bag. That woman likes her shit neat and tidy, and you came in like a tornado and fucked it all up.
“Look around,” he says, holding his arms out wide. “There are empty food containers everywhere. Soy sauce spilled all over the counter in the kitchen. I saw a couple socks on the living room floor, so don’t even tell me there wasn’t a pile of clean laundry out there when Joie got home. And if I went and looked right now, I bet there’s toothpaste in the sink. Am I right?”
I scoff. “First of all, all those Chinese food containers are yours. I don’t eat shitty take out. Second, you’re the one that spilled the soy sauce. And third, you’re wrong about the bathroom.”
He scoots away from the table and leaves the room. When he comes back in a few seconds later, he shoves his finger in my face. “I found this toothpaste in the sink.”
“Get your hand out of my face, asshole,” I shove him away. “So you found toothpaste in the sink. Big deal. That doesn’t make me a pig.”
“No. But it helps prove my point. How do you explain the socks?”
Narrowing my eyes at him, I know he’s got me again. “I must have missed them when we put away all the laundry before you got here.”
“Was this before or after she freaked out about company coming over while the house was a mess?”
“The house isn’t a mess, Hank. Besides, none of this has anything to do with why Joie is stressed and how I can help her.”
He laughs at me. Not with me. At me, and it makes me want to punch him in the nuts. If he wasn’t technically my boss, I probably would.
I open my mouth to spout off his direction, but then I begin looking around the room. No, those aren’t my Chinese food containers, but that is my pizza box. Those were my beer bottles Joie threw out in a panic. That is my toothpaste in the sink, and I bet it was next to a dirty towel I forgot to throw in the hamper. It hits me, and as much as I hate to admit it, he’s probably right.
I’m a slob. And while it doesn’t bother me, it probably makes Joie completely crazy.
“Oh shit,” I say under my breath as the realization hits me.
“You see it now, don’t you?” I nod as I keep looking around the room at my clean socks, my shoes, the spare change and receipts sitting on the counter from where I dumped them when I walked in hours ago.
“Oh shit,” I say more forcefully. “I knew I wasn’t helping her feel better, but I didn’t realize I was making her feel worse.”
“Well, you are,” he says all matter-of-factly. “So now you can fix it.”
“How? How am I going to fix this? I’ve never been good at keeping a clean house. Sheila used to do all of that, so I don’t even know where to start.”
“I’m glad you asked, my friend.” Hank reaches into his bag and pulls out a colorful package. When he drops the brick on the table it makes a loud bang, which I’m sure he planned for dramatic effect.
“What is that?”
He smirks and waggles his eyebrows. “Sticky notes. In the variety color pack.”
I stare at him blankly until he gives up and rolls his eyes.
“The best way to remember things is to have sticky notes as reminders. It’s even better if they’re color-coded. She’ll appreciate the extra effort.”
I pick up the square papers and my pen, ready to jot down more notes. Only this time, it’s not to build a case about a scholarship, it’s to build a case for Joie not kicking my unorganized ass to the curb.