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seriously.”
    “I am being serious. Look, Paddy, I couldn’t care less whether or not you fucked Gloria Dietrich.”
    “No? All of Toronto seems to care an awful lot.”
    “Fuck ’em. If anything, this has just given you more street cred, bro.”
    “I’d rather have my job than street cred. Gloria played me, Jake.”
    He leaned in and pointed at his face. “You see? Women may call men dogs but they’re just as duplicitous. I wrote an editorial on that very topic not too long ago.”
    Of course he had. It was just the sort of drivel the readers of Player would gobble up.
    Ah, hell. It might tempting to blame the Neanderthals who read Player for his misery, but he could only blame himself for trusting Gloria. His stress headache returned and he rubbed his temple, in a vain attempt to alleviate the dull throb. “You know the worst part? Jason doesn’t even care what his wife gets up to. He fired me because it was expected of him. Because he worried he’d look like a pussy if he didn’t.” He downed the scotch in one gulp, his eyes stinging at the burn.
    “Ah, Jason Dietrich, big bad publisher man can’t be seen as a cuckold.”
    “I don’t know which of them disgusts me more.”
    “I don’t blame you. And for the record, I always thought the Dietrichs were self-important cows.” Jake arched a brow. “Tell me the truth, though. Is she hot naked?”
    Why did it disappoint him so much that Jake believed the worst of him? “I’m not answering that question.”
    “No kissing and telling, huh? I can respect that.” He grinned. “So none of your other job leads have panned out? Did Joe at the World call you back?”
    “Nah,” Patrick said, grunting. “I’m pretty sure Joe deleted my contact information. Jason controls too many people in our industry. When he said he’d make mincemeat out of my reputation, he wasn’t kidding. None of the political mags will touch me for fear of offending him.”
    Jake stared at him for a good, long time. “Well, Paddy, you know you always have a job with me. Sure, you wouldn’t be writing scathing commentary on our crumbling city infrastructure, but you’d be writing. And it would be a way to get your name out there again, you know, until the World knocks on your door.”
    Patrick stared into his empty crystal glass, defeated. “Are you going to make me write about erectile dysfunction?”
    He burst out laughing. “Not today, buddy, not today. But what I will do is help you reinvent yourself.” He leaned on his knees and stared at him, his eyes growing bright with anticipation. Just like when they used to hit the bars as young bucks, sizing up the hotties. “Today, the played becomes the player.”
    A player. Did he really have it in him to be one? Sure, he’d had fun in his younger days but he’d been a respectable journalist since getting out of school. He’d done his work, collected the accolades, and kept his head down.
    And he’d been punished for it. Maybe he should have had a bit more fun along the way.
    Jake put down his scotch and walked over to his desk. He sat, looked at his computer, and typed in some commands. “Jason Dietrich thinks he’s stopped you from writing, but he doesn’t run in my circles and I don’t owe him any favors.”
    Bitterness bubbled out of him. “Plus your dick readers would love the idea of me writing for your magazine.”
    “My friend, you see right through me. Sure, my dick readers would love to read an article written by you, Toronto’s current bad boy.”
    “But…”
    “I told you, Paddy. I don’t care what you did with Gloria. You could have fucked her sideways and upside down, and I still wouldn’t care, so save your breath. Now, I’ve e-mailed your first story lead. It’s actually pretty interesting, even for a jaded politico like you.”
    Beggars can’t be choosers . “Tell me more.”
    “I heard talk of a woman named Margie Kent. She’s big in the recruiting world. She runs an agency that hires