We head in the opposite direction, stepping down into a sunken living room. “I’ll show you around,” he offers.
I follow him through the living room, which features the biggest television I’ve ever seen in a residential dwelling, into a modern kitchen with carved dark wood cabinets, granite counters, and stainless steel appliances, and a dining room that could host a dinner party for the whole starting lineup, plus their dates. He shows me where I can find a bathroom—or three—if I should need them. Then he points into the backyard, where a hot tub and heated saltwater pool emit clouds of steam, a guest house beckons, and an outdoor kitchen hibernates, abandoned for the winter. Out-of-place in the perfectly manicured garden crouch two huge playsets, an alien spacecraft and a pirate ship.
“Holdovers from the previous owners?” I ask. “Or do you like to role play?”
“They’re for my nieces and nephews, when they come to visit. Uncle Jet’s house can’t be boring, right?”
“No. That’s not allowed.” I’m suddenly dying to go out there and explore those things, though. Maybe later.
I’m also curious about his bedroom, but I’m relieved he doesn’t take me upstairs for a tour of the second floor. That seems a tad personal for a first visit. (Apparently, I’m becoming a prude in my old age.)
Instead, he leads me back to the living room, where he sits on the couch and pats the cushion next to him. “I’m not gonna hurt you,” he says lightly.
I wish I could promise the same thing.
Still, I sit and look around the room. “This place is…”
…massive, like you.
…overwhelming, like you.
“…incredible,” I finally settle on, leaving off the “like you” that still fits. “I had no idea this was back here. And that you lived here.”
“I’m not exactly listed.” He grins. “But thanks. It’s a place to sleep. And it’s close to work. Plus, there’s plenty of room for when my family comes to visit.”
“You’re originally from California, right? Are they still out there?”
“Some of them. Mom and Dad and my big sister and her family live there. One of my brothers lives in Minnesota; the other one lives in Texas. I have a younger sister who lives overseas. Her husband’s in the Air Force. They’re stationed in Germany.”
“Whoa. Your family is huge.”
He shrugs. “I guess. I never thought much about it.” He grins. “It’s tons of fun when they’re all here.”
“Does everyone get along?”
“Yeah! We didn’t have a choice, growing up. Mom and Dad didn’t tolerate fighting. Now, getting along is a habit, I guess. We give each other crap all the time, but that’s all in good fun.” He turns his head and squints. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re trying to figure out how fast you can get from this couch to the door.”
I try to laugh off his too-accurate perception. “I’m not. But I had no idea you had such a big, close-knit family. I bet they’re beyond proud of you.”
“I suppose. As long as I’m not screwing up.” He smiles wryly. “But yeah. ‘Proud’ is a good word for it. My mom can be overprotective, too. She worries.”
“It must have been hard for her to see you go through such a tough time in New York.”
“I wouldn’t say New York was all that tough.”
“The internet doesn’t lie.”
We laugh, then he says, “Hang on. Did you Google me?”
I blush but quickly remember it’s not my embarrassment to own. “Uh, no. Colin did. I think he was looking for more material to tease me about you, but he wound up with a huge man-crush, instead. So the joke’s on him.”
Jet raises his eyebrows. “Seriously? That’s hilarious! As far as I know, there’s just a bunch of stuff out there about what a disappointment I was after the draft.”
“He seemed more impressed by how you handled yourself through all of that.” His response is a self-deprecating chuckle, so I say, “Nobody would have blamed you if you’d checked out.”
“That’s not who I was raised to be. New York hired me to do a job, and I couldn’t get it done. If anything, I was trying to earn my keep, since they were paying me to sit on a bench.”
“Well, you did it with more class and grace than most guys would have. I mean, good grief! Before you left New York, you wrote a letter to Jets fans, thanking them.”
Okay, so maybe I did a little of my own research after talking to Colin. I have to admit, that little Limey got me curious about Jet the Jet.
“Yeah? So?”
“These are the same fans who cheered once when you were knocked unconscious at the end of a play!”
He laughs and scratches the side of his nose. “Well, I was out of it, so it didn’t hurt my feelings.”
“C’mon. Be serious.”
“I am! When you’re a quarterback, you’re either the hero or the zero. Period. You’re not a person to the fans; you’re a— a tool, for lack of a better word. And if you work well and get the job done, they’ll love you for it. If you screw up and make them look foolish to other fan bases, they’ll cheer when you get your lights knocked out by one of the league’s greatest pass rushers.” He shifts his eyes toward his lap. “Or they’ll—I don’t know—fly a plane over the stadium with a banner behind it that says, ‘Knox Sucks.’ Because that happened, too. And I was awake for that one.”
“That’s horrible!”
He looks up and waves off my pity. “It’s all part of it. And it’s not like I was positive 24/7. I had some moments in private that weren’t classy or pretty. Lost my fiancée at the time over it.”
“Torzi’s mom?” I ask, trying to keep it light.
He smiles sadly. “Ginny. Yeah. I’m afraid I was less-than-pleasant at home. Nothing major,” he hastens to
