Chapter 10 #2
On the way home, my phone rings with a call from my agent. Jack is a total shark, but he hardly ever calls if it isn't necessary, so I pick up.
“Ethan, is this an ok time? I need to check in with you on a couple of your contracts we're negotiating.”
On top of my contract with the Huskies, Jack manages all of my endorsement deals. From sticks to gloves to shoes, there are all sorts of brands eager to have me promote their products.
“Sure. I'm just driving home from the game.”
“It was a close one. You gotta keep Zee from drawing stupid penalties.”
This was true; at five foot eight, Zachary Price had no business getting in the face of étienne Fournier, but apparently no one has told him that.
“At least you've got Carter, though. That move he does makes Volkov look like he's still in Bantam.”
I smile at that, remembering the flight where Carter and I worked it all out.
“Yeah, between his speed and his skills, he's tough to defend against.”
I think of him tonight, in the seat next to me, telling me about his fears. How ridiculous to think that we would send him to Des Moines – almost as ridiculous as the fact that for the entirety of camp, that's exactly what I wanted us to do.
“I know your dad hates he's on the team, but I can't really hate anyone who's getting you this many wins.”
The mention of my dad is like being doused with cold water. I haven't talked to him recently, but his texts after each game have made his opinions on Carter very clear.
“Yeah. It's nice having the offensive production, for sure.”
“Absolutely. Anyway, I'm about to start renegotiations with Bauer and I wanted to check in with you first. Any interest in switching companies, or are we good to iron out the details?”
Bauer has sponsored me for the past five years, and I've got no complaints about the equipment.
“You're good to talk to them. No need to push for more money, just get me something to sign.”
“And this, Ethan, is why you'd better never become an agent. You're too soft.”
I roll my eyes, grateful Jack can't see. I already get paid literally millions to play a game for a living. Why do I need more to use equipment I would buy anyway?
“That's what I've got you for, Jack. Just don't lose the contract – I hate the curve on the new CCM sticks.”
He laughs at that.
“No problem, kid. The shoe deal isn't up for renewal until next year, so we'll deal with it then. I think Marty is working on something, but he's keeping it pretty close to the vest. Don't you sign a fucking thing without me reading it, ok?”
Ugh. Every now and then, my dad decides there's something Jack isn't doing right for my career. Then he seeks out new deals – once even tried to shop a trade around – in an effort to get me my due. It's exhausting. Luckily, Jack played with Marty back in the day and can usually talk him out of it.
“Never will, Jack.”
“You're a good kid, Ethan.”
I soak up the praise. As much as Jack seems like a hardass, he's always done right by me.
“Alright, the other thing I wanted to talk about is your birthday.”
As a hockey player with an early November birthday, it can be really easy to overlook it. Most years, I either don't celebrate or just grab beers with the guys after our game.
“What about it?”
“Well, what are you planning to do? Maybe a nice date night? Or a visit to a club?”
I laugh at this.
“Jack, you and I both know I'll be in Vancouver, beginning the world's longest roadtrip.”
He sighs loudly.
“There are clubs in Vancouver, Ethan. Women, too. I know I told you this earlier this fall, but I just don't think we're using that Minneapolis Monthly piece to its full advantage.”
He did tell me this last month. If possible, I care even less now than I did then.
I know he pushed hard to get that article written, hoping it would make me look more...
approachable? But now he's worried that if no one ever sees me dating, no one will ever want to date me and then no one will talk about the article or how great I am or how they should really pay me – and him – more money.
“Look, Jack. If I go on a date, I'll definitely let you know. You can have it captured in 4K.”
“Y'know, Ethan, it doesn't even have to be a real date. I'm sure I can find some actress/model/influencer willing to be seen in public with you for a few weeks.”
This isn't the first time Jack has suggested this solution. I'm not sure if he even knows if he's suggesting a beard, or if he just thinks I'm the most awkward and undateable heterosexual man on Earth. Honestly, it wouldn't be hard to believe.
But each time he suggests it, I get a weird feeling in my skin, an itch that lives deep inside. It just feels so...disingenuous? Wrong? For someone who lies almost constantly, it seems odd that I'd have trouble with a lie like this...but I do.
“Look, Jack. I know you've got plenty of clients who get photographed every night with a different woman. But that's just...not me. I'm not the life of the party, and I appreciate my privacy. I'm sorry.”
He sighs once more, but this one sounds like he's given in.
“Ok, but Ethan? The very second you find your person, I want to know, ok?”
I stare out the window, almost wishing for that moment to come.
“The very moment, Jack. You'll know.”