Page 38 of Rocking Player
This was for the best.
I cleaned myself up and flounced down the stairs when I heard the doorbell.
Jeremy was probably back now, but as I neared the door in my jeans and red t-shirt, I saw Michael open the door to a slicked back, grey-haired man. Michael shook his hand and said, “Phil.”
I walked over, happy I knew it was his agent, and nothing was changing as Phil said, “Michael, I hope it’s okay I came over?”
“Come in,” he said but then the garage door opened, and Jeremy was in the backseat of the rented minivan. We walked inside and Michael told them as they joined us, “Mom, Dad, Jeremy, Georgie this is my agent, Phil. We’re gonna talk about my offers.”
His mother headed into the kitchen immediately. Did I go with her? I stilled as his father asked, “Do you want us to go somewhere?”
Michael shook his head and said, “No. Dad you got me my shot. Georgie and Jeremy have a stake in the future too. I’d like for us to all talk about this.”
His mother popped her head in from the kitchen and said, “I’ll change our tickets to later in the day if you want our opinion.”
Seriously? She didn’t want to be part of the conversation over her son’s future? My pulse raced as that was often what my own mother did as Michael asked me, “Would that be okay, Georgie?”
Sarah stared at me. My skin had pins and needles. This was exactly how my family had worked, where my mom just left the important discussions, but I smiled at her and said, “I’d love for you to stay. We’ve not had enough time to talk.”
Sarah tapped the wall and headed out of the room. “I’ll change them then.”
Her leaving the room was exactly what my mom would have done.
My spine tingled. She had tickets to change so I wasn’t being rational. Michael led the rest of us to his formal dining room. The room had a table for twelve and the oak was polished and the white cushioned seats were spotless.
Did he use this room often? My skin had cold spikes over it. It’s not like I'd known Michael for long. We all took seats and Phil took out papers from his briefcase as Michael asked, “So Phil, what are the options?”
He took out the first file and handed it over. “The Sooners upped their offer after your recent performances and the playoff potential.”
Seven years at twenty-five million. The number was close to what Michael wanted, and I glanced around the huge estate. This could be transformed to be more kid friendly and elegant. His house felt barely lived in. “Your house here is nice.”
“What else?” Michael pushed it toward his father and signaled for another paper.
Phil handed another folder over and said, “Boston has a strong offer and the benefits are good.”
Twenty-three million for eight years. Massachusetts didn’t seem that different than Pittsburgh, but Michael wrote on the side "high taxes". I read it and so did his agent as he said, “This sounds right. What else?”
Smart. Take-home pay mattered, and Phil said, “New York has the highest offer but after taxes it’s almost equal to the Sooners.”
New York’s offer was twenty-nine a year for eight years.
My stomach tightened as I’d been physically sick the only time I’d been in Manhattan. My son needed security and I trembled under the table. Sarah returned with glasses of water on a tray and started serving everyone. I asked, “What about Pittsburgh?”
Did Michael expect me to serve like this? Quietly not having an opinion but there to kiss Jeremy’s bruises?
Phil said to Jeremy, “Their offer wasn’t serious before. I sent the personalized request but so far, no answer.”
My son’s face fell to his chin and he swung his legs. I asked, “Jeremy, what are your thoughts?”
Jeremy met my gaze and didn’t’ blink at all when he said, “I just hate leaving my friends.”
At six, he probably was but, in time, he’d make new friends. “We have to go back and visit all the time. All your aunts are there.”
His father then asked, “Anything from Texas?”
Wait. Texas? My mind was spinning. Sarah now brought in a small tray of crackers and cheese for the table as Phil said, “The Rangers have a decent starting point. I could continue negotiations if I can say you’re serious.”
Twenty-two million for eight years. Michael asked, “Why, Dad?”
