but there were a lot of other adults there too, including reporters and photographers from the
Post
and the
News.
And, of course, there were also a lot of girls, screaming, ‘I love you,’ and ‘Will you marry me?’ or just screeching the way girls always did when they saw Jake. He had groupies in Pittsburgh, and in most other cities, and he had been on the cover of
Teen People
twice.
Jake posed for pictures with the girls, and most of them kissed him on the lips, blushing, as if this were the biggest thrill of their lives, which it probably was. Most of the kids asked him to sign only a ball or a baseball card, but others had brought bats, balls, gloves, cards, yearbooks, eight-by-tens, and other shit for him to sign. They told him that he was their favorite player, that they wanted to grow up to be just like him, and about ten different people said to him, ‘You rock.’ Although Jake remained polite, smiling for the cameras, signing everything, he knew that most, if not all, of these people were full of it. The ones wearing THOMAS 24 jerseys and Pirates caps were the biggest phonies. Seriously, how many Pittsburgh Pirates fans could there really be in Brooklyn? Most of the stuff he signed today would probably wind up on eBay.
As Jake continued signing, reporters interviewed him, and he told them how much being a role model for kids meant to him, and how flattering it was for him to get so much attention from the hometown fans. Tomorrow all of this would pay off when the articles ran about how Jake had tirelessly signed autographs for hours and how unselfish athletes like Jake Thomas were an endangered species.
A pretty, light-skinned girl who kind of looked like Halle Berry handed Jake an eight-by-ten glossy, the one where he was wearing the short-sleeved Van Heusen linen shirt, with his arm muscles bulging. Jake asked her what her name was, and she said Jasmine. While he signed the picture,
To Jasmine, love always, Jake Thomas,
Jasmine told him that she had a poster of him hanging up in her room.
‘You do?’ Jake said, as if this surprised him.
‘Yeah, I look at it every night before I go to sleep. Can I get a picture with you?’
Jasmine squished up close to him, wedging her head under his armpit and putting an arm around his waist. She was wearing Tommy Girl, which reminded Jake of what’s her name in Denver, and also that girl in San Francisco - Donna, or Debbie, or Diane, or something with a
D.
Jasmine’s friend snapped the picture, and then Jasmine said to Jake, ‘If you ever wanna, like, go out and have some fun sometime, here’s my number.’
Jasmine handed him a folded-up piece of paper; then she kissed him on the lips. The crowd oohed as Jasmine winked at Jake and walked away with her friend.
Someone brought out a chair for Jake to sit on, and he continued signing until the sun began to set. Then he heard a familiar voice call out his name. Even in Gap boot-cut jeans, some old brown leather bomber jacket, and kind of ratty, out-of-style long hair, Christina was a goddess. She was a natural beauty, the type of girl who could look great without trying, who could throw on dirty laundry and look awesome, and Jake remembered why he’d gone so nuts for her in high school and why she was going to become Mrs Jake Thomas. Okay, so maybe he’d have to polish her up for LA - hire her a stylist, encourage her to lose a few LBs - but then she’d be perfect.
As Jake headed toward her, the crowd parted to let him pass and he imagined all the great press the wedding would get -’Superstar Marries High School Sweetheart,’ ‘Jake Thomas Weds First Love,’ ‘Beauty and the Best.’ He’d probably be able to renegotiate his Nike and Pizza Hut contracts, get on a Wheaties box.
When Jake reached Christina he lifted her up, holding her like that for a few seconds to let the photographers get their pictures, and then put her down and laid one on her. Now he knew he was making the right decision. If he
Post
and the
News.
And, of course, there were also a lot of girls, screaming, ‘I love you,’ and ‘Will you marry me?’ or just screeching the way girls always did when they saw Jake. He had groupies in Pittsburgh, and in most other cities, and he had been on the cover of
Teen People
twice.
Jake posed for pictures with the girls, and most of them kissed him on the lips, blushing, as if this were the biggest thrill of their lives, which it probably was. Most of the kids asked him to sign only a ball or a baseball card, but others had brought bats, balls, gloves, cards, yearbooks, eight-by-tens, and other shit for him to sign. They told him that he was their favorite player, that they wanted to grow up to be just like him, and about ten different people said to him, ‘You rock.’ Although Jake remained polite, smiling for the cameras, signing everything, he knew that most, if not all, of these people were full of it. The ones wearing THOMAS 24 jerseys and Pirates caps were the biggest phonies. Seriously, how many Pittsburgh Pirates fans could there really be in Brooklyn? Most of the stuff he signed today would probably wind up on eBay.
As Jake continued signing, reporters interviewed him, and he told them how much being a role model for kids meant to him, and how flattering it was for him to get so much attention from the hometown fans. Tomorrow all of this would pay off when the articles ran about how Jake had tirelessly signed autographs for hours and how unselfish athletes like Jake Thomas were an endangered species.
A pretty, light-skinned girl who kind of looked like Halle Berry handed Jake an eight-by-ten glossy, the one where he was wearing the short-sleeved Van Heusen linen shirt, with his arm muscles bulging. Jake asked her what her name was, and she said Jasmine. While he signed the picture,
To Jasmine, love always, Jake Thomas,
Jasmine told him that she had a poster of him hanging up in her room.
‘You do?’ Jake said, as if this surprised him.
‘Yeah, I look at it every night before I go to sleep. Can I get a picture with you?’
Jasmine squished up close to him, wedging her head under his armpit and putting an arm around his waist. She was wearing Tommy Girl, which reminded Jake of what’s her name in Denver, and also that girl in San Francisco - Donna, or Debbie, or Diane, or something with a
D.
Jasmine’s friend snapped the picture, and then Jasmine said to Jake, ‘If you ever wanna, like, go out and have some fun sometime, here’s my number.’
Jasmine handed him a folded-up piece of paper; then she kissed him on the lips. The crowd oohed as Jasmine winked at Jake and walked away with her friend.
Someone brought out a chair for Jake to sit on, and he continued signing until the sun began to set. Then he heard a familiar voice call out his name. Even in Gap boot-cut jeans, some old brown leather bomber jacket, and kind of ratty, out-of-style long hair, Christina was a goddess. She was a natural beauty, the type of girl who could look great without trying, who could throw on dirty laundry and look awesome, and Jake remembered why he’d gone so nuts for her in high school and why she was going to become Mrs Jake Thomas. Okay, so maybe he’d have to polish her up for LA - hire her a stylist, encourage her to lose a few LBs - but then she’d be perfect.
As Jake headed toward her, the crowd parted to let him pass and he imagined all the great press the wedding would get -’Superstar Marries High School Sweetheart,’ ‘Jake Thomas Weds First Love,’ ‘Beauty and the Best.’ He’d probably be able to renegotiate his Nike and Pizza Hut contracts, get on a Wheaties box.
When Jake reached Christina he lifted her up, holding her like that for a few seconds to let the photographers get their pictures, and then put her down and laid one on her. Now he knew he was making the right decision. If he
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