Page 38 of Downforce

I’m on my way to meet at a ramen restaurant for dinner. Aside from a quick stop at my hotel to drop off my luggage, I’ve been out wandering all day, snapping photos of the hidden parks that house scenic gardens and the most spectacular trees, including the world-famous cherry blossoms.

“Annalise,” Jen calls, waving as she comes around the opposite street corner.

We meet at the front of the restaurant.

“How are you? Any jet lag?” she asks after we hug, sounding partially out of breath the way that I’ve come to expect from her. As the busy owner of her own sports agency, she’s often hard to pin down.

“You know how it is,” I reply. “As long as I keep moving, jet lag can’t catch me.”

She laughs, her red, wavy locks falling over her shoulder as she does. Our mutual hair color isn’t our only similarity, as we both ended up bonding over our love of sports when we met at the law firm I’d interned at during the summer after my 1L year.

She’s almost ten years older than me, but was one of the few who took me under her wing which helped lead me to getting hired by that same firm after graduating with my degree.

“That’s what I say, too.” She sucks her teeth, her lips twisting sideways. “Though my doctor tells me all of the travel and little sleeping will catch up to me eventually.”

“What do doctors know?”

She laughs before we head into the restaurant where she’s made a reservation. This time of year, Japan is often packed with tourists coming in for the cherry blossoms, and of course the Grand Prix.

Though the location of the race is hours away, most people will make at least a short trip in Tokyo for the sights before heading south.

“How’re you doing?” I ask Jen as we settle in. “I’m sure it’s busy.”

She tuts. “This is the first time I’ve sat down since getting off the plane three days ago.”

“Business is booming, I assume.”

She pauses as our sake is placed at the center of our tables. I hold my cup out for her to fill before she does the same, allowing me to fill hers.

“You assume correctly,” she finally answers, holding up her cup to cheers.

We say the customary Japanese saying before taking our first swigs and then refilling one another’s cups.

The Suzuka Grand Prix often coincides with Jen’s semi-annual trips to Japan, so it’s one of the occasions I have alcohol.

“Tell me about it,” I encourage as we’re served our first course of sushi.

Jen opens up about the three baseball players she’s hoping to sign to a contract with the Japanese league.

“Many of my clients have never even considered Japan as an option.” Most of the athletes Jen works with have contracts with the MLB but those don’t always work out, and players that can’t get into the American league are often a good option for one of the Japanese leagues.

“I’m also working on connecting with the KBO in Korea. I’d like to see how good a fit it might be for some of the players I’m eyeing in college right now.”

“Won’t that add to your already packed schedule?” I ask, twirling my ramen around the spoon I hold in my left hand. “Are you thinking of taking on another agent to help?”

When my questions are met with silence, I look up from my noodles.

I shake my head. “I don’t like that look,” I say in response to the sparkle in her green eyes as she watches me from across the table.

“Don’t be like that,” she playfully whines. “I have been thinking of taking on another agent. I don’t know, say, someone with a stellar law degree, graduated at the top of her class, passed the bar on her first try, and was hired by one of the best law firms in the state.”

“And flamed out barely a year later,” I add, gloomily.

She dismisses my comment with a wave of her hand.

“You didn’t flame out. You discovered working in that type of environment wasn’t for you.”

“No.” I shake my head and point at her barely touched bowl with the tip of my wooden chopsticks. “Your ramen’s getting cold.”