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Mom’s enthusiasm was bubbling over for this weekend. She might have been even more excited than me when the news broke that I’d been selected for this year’s game. It was my first time and, of course, a huge honor. My game isn’t flashy, and I’m not a face of the team or anything, but I go out and get my job done and have acquired some fans along the way. To be recognized after seven years had me pretty damn giddy.
“You expected anything less?” Bobby asked as we headed for the showers. “I know how proud I am of you, and she’s got to be like a million times more so.”
She’d been one of my major champions since I first laced up skates. A lot of great things were on tap for this weekend, but having my family on hand was the best part. She’d wanted to come to the auction, but we’d convinced her that wasn’t a good idea. As much as Bobby liked to harass and embarrass me, Mom coming to the auction was too much since we had no idea how the crowd would behave. Turned out, G had also hoped she wouldn’t be there since he thought of her as a mom too.
“You know, it wouldn’t hurt if the high bidder takes you on a nice date. It’s been too long for you.”
“Not this again.” The words came out wrapped in a groan. Bobby liked to discuss my lack of a relationship—he’d always dated more than me—but he’d escalated once he and Sebastian settled down.
“Don’t give me that. If you gave yourself half a chance, you could find the right guy. You’re not even trying.”
“You know how my…”
“Schedule is. Yeah, yeah, yeah. And I know how chill the off-season is, where you could start something that lasts.” Bobby shifted from a mocking tone to something I imagined he used on his patients. “You’re going to need a date to my wedding, after all, come July. As wildly important as family is to you, you actually should find a guy to start one with. Sebastian and I are looking forward to having kids, and I have no doubt you’d be an amazing dad too.”
“Oh my God. Did Mom put you up to this because you sound just like her right now.” This was an old conversation. I did want a family—but I also had people to take care of. I had to make sure Mom was okay and that Bobby had help when he needed it. Although, that was far less often over the past three years since he’d met Sebastian. Besides finding a good guy wasn’t easy. The last one I thought might be dateable turned out to be a jerk, breaking up with a text.
“Maybe I just want to be an uncle and have built-in playdates with our kids.”
“That won’t be so easy if I end up across the country.” Might as well deflect one uncomfortable conversation with another. I stepped to the side of a showerhead and started the water flow.
“I was going to ask about that.” Bobby did the same at the shower next to mine. “Anything more concrete?”
“No.” I sighed. “Wait and see at this point. The team is definitely looking to shore up defense. My agent told me just before I came down here that I fit the ideal profile for this trade. A couple others on the team do too, but I tick all the boxes. Knowing that only makes it worse. I appreciated Candace bracing me for that, but still…”
“Sorry, man. Maybe if you win the skills competition or stand out, here they won’t let you go.”
“Or, I make myself even more attractive to the other team.”
The last thing I wanted was to leave Detroit. Unfortunately, unlike Bobby who moved away by choice, this decision was out of my hands. Thinking about it too much made me nauseous from nerves. Not only did I love my hometown, but that’s where I needed to be for my family.
TWO
AUSTIN
“DO you think they’d be open to seeing all three concepts?” Marilyn, one of the lead designers, asked hopefully. “We can present all the usability data and elaborate on our points of view.”
I adjusted my glasses, pushing them up the bridge of my nose. “I don’t know the team well enough yet to know if they’d appreciate three options or if they expect a single one.”
Across the table, concepts were emblazoned with the logo I’d come up with four years ago—a stylized, burnt orange, smooth font “AMDD” with “Austin Murray Digital Designs” in a crisp, easy-to-read typeface. I should know what to present to this potential client, but the importance of the presentation was causing me to second guess myself. Despite the success we’d had over the past three years, to continue to grow the company and become more profitable, we needed a lot more new business. A multi-year, multi-million-dollar contract rode on the outcome of next week’s meeting to show off this work.
The board didn’t like the projections for the next fiscal year if we didn’t land this opportunity.
The rectangular table in the corner of my office was covered in mockups for a proposed interface for a new luxury SUV line. We’d worked to get in with this manufacturer for two years to prove we had better concepts than their current design team.
While we’d prepped for this over the past six weeks, now that we neared the end of the line, tendrils of anxiety were extending their reach into me each day. I made it worse by keeping up a façade for my team. They knew I obsessed on details—to the degree of firing off multiple emails overnight with ideas to consider—but they didn’t need to see stress or doubt.
If we impressed, this enhanced interface—that used voice and touch and could be used in the car or via an app—would make its debut in this new model. Not only would it be used in the dashboard but in screens for the passengers in the back as well.
The presentation would be done on Tuesday, yet six days out, the team continued debating what to put forth. It wasn’t even as minor as colors, some of it was the core of how it looked and functioned. I didn’t want to make an arbitrary choice. The designers had good instincts and knew how to back up their opinions with data. In this case, three of the interfaces tested pretty equally—a credit to the team but also an impediment to making a choice.
A knock on the open door made me jump. Edginess gnawed at me, making me overreact.
Tamara—best friend, co-founder, and chief operating officer—to the rescue.
Hopefully.
“This isn’t good.” She dropped into a seat between me and Marilyn. Her gaze darted between us, what was on the table, and the two other designers across from us before her focus settled on me. “I don’t think you’ve moved since I was here two hours ago except to maybe shuffle papers on the table and put different things on the screen. Still can’t decide?”
