Page 60 of Playing for Keeps

“I told him I didn’t know a thing. Because I don’t. Not really. Not officially.”

“Thanks.” Even though Maguire wasn’t officially involved in my research, I’d picked his brain and run some things by him. “You’re good people.”

He grunts at that. “I’ll keep you posted about what they’re up to. As much as I can.”

We end the call with me telling him I owe him my first born and him saying that’ll never happen. The idea of me having a first born, or not having one, is disquieting. But I move onto my next call. I owe cat an apology even if she doesn’t realize it.

I tell Cat the whole story of the feature, how it started out as a grand idea but ended up tasting bad. I told her how I erased the computer drive and stole the file and thumb drives and brought them home. Chloe understands but she’s not sure about Tate, that he made need time to adjust.

“He doesn’t understand the business, the media, like I do,” Cat says.

“No kidding,” I say. Feeling better. The confession to Cat is like a no-pressure dress rehearsal of the performance to come where the stakes are higher than any I’d ever played for before, higher than career stakes. My heart is involved in this and stakes get no higher or scarier than that. I shudder.

“Thanks for listening, Cat. It’s been swell working with you.”

“Don’t leave town yet. There’s always room for a good sports reporter around Boston.”

In truth, I’m surprised when she says this because I have no intention of leaving Boston. It would be the equivalent of leaving Tate.

“I’m not giving up on Boston,” I say, knowing she’ll understand what I’m saying, that I mean everything, using Boston for a short hand way of saying sports reporting, broadcasting, my dreams, my friends and most of all Tate.