"I thought Eclectic Food was interested in me for maybe a manager position, but I damn near passed out when they said, 'Account Executive.' The owner reminded me that if they were gonna make me an offer, I'd better be prepared to take a big title."
Billy was encouraging. "You deserve this, Drew. You've worked hard and you're so talented you should own your own company. Of course they'd want you to work at that level."
I was still in shock, though. I guess I could only see myself stuffing endive leaves with herb cheese. Hard to imagine I'd have to wear a nice suit and tie to a catering company but that's exactly what Eclectic Food had in mind for me.
Billy spoke again, "Isn't it weird, Drew? Such great things happening for you along with such tragedy... that stalker, the problems you've had with Eric -- but then you turn around and there's a whole new career opportunity for you."
"I'm still in the food business, though," I said. "Which isn't the last stop on where I want to be... but yeah, you're right... maybe things are lookin' up."
My fantasy life was in full swing as I pulled down the street.
I imagined myself as the Account Executive for Eclectic Food, pullin' in this great salary, buyin' clothes and helping Eric out with more of the bills, putting away money to adopt a child...
This was cool.
Of course, I did keep thinking of what Billy had said about the bad coming right alongside the good. He was right, but maybe I'd had enough bad for 1996 -- maybe the rest of the year was gonna be smooth sailing.
Pulling into the driveway, my spirits were higher than they'd been in weeks. I felt the "old Drew" coming back -- or at least he was making a visit. I admit, I was a little nervous checking the mailbox and picking up the mail. I went into the house and did my usual stalker safety check and realized I was alone.
I took another look at the mail -- magazine, magazine, magazine, bill, bill, junk mail, junk mail, catalogue -- then -- a large manila envelope. Oh, God, my first thought-- Porn magazines again!!
Eric was always subscribing to these weird, off-the-wall porn magazines from grassroots companies. His favorite thing was getting back room porn, instead of the over produced, movie star stuff.
I opened the envelope and noticed that it was addressed to me... hmmmm.
WOW.
The cover was enough to cause a heart attack-- a stunning black man wearing only football shoulderpads and a helmet. I went into the living room and lay on the couch to take a further look. Strumming through the pages of THROB, from one great shot after another, until I hit a special section called "Hot & Throbbing." It was the section where people sent in pictures of themselves.
Pictures of themselves.
I stopped. I looked. I froze.
Themselves...themselvesthemselvesthemselvesthemselvesvthemselvesthemselvesthemselvesthemselvesthemselvesthemselvesthemselvesthemselvesthemselvesthemselvesthemselvesthemselvesthemselvesthemselves!!!
