Page 20 of Sure Shot
“Sure. Anything.”
“Why did you ghost me before? When I played for New York. You just dropped me, and I never knew why.”
She’s silent for a moment. And then she asks, “Nine years later, does it even matter?”
“I guess not.” I give her half a shrug, like I don’t care. “I’ve always been curious. But you don’t owe me an explanation.”
She sighs. “I was twenty-one, Tank. I was young and green and afraid to screw up my life.”
“I get it,” I say quickly. “I wasn’t much of a catch back then.” I’d put hockey first.
“No—you don’t understand,” she argues. “Don’t ask a girl for an explanation and then interrupt her.”
“Okay. Sorry. Carry on.”
“This is actually embarrassing,” she whispers. “Nine years later, I still don’t like thinking about it. But something happened at work.”
“Hey.” I put a hand in the center of her smooth tummy. “You don’t have to tell me.”
“No, it’s okay.” She tucks her head against my shoulder. “Do you remember Jane Pines? She covers golfers and tennis players.”
“Sure.” She’d been Kassman’s partner at the time. “She left the firm, right? But I think she’s still in the business.”
“Yeah. Well, she called me into her office nine years ago.” Bess takes a deep breath. “She told me that there was gossip about you and me.”
I yank my head off the pillow again. “No shit? I never talked about you at all. You asked me not to.”
Now it’s her turn to shrug as if it didn’t matter. But I’m getting the feeling that it did. “I don’t know who talked. But we weren’t that careful. You rented an apartment with other players, right? They picked up the landline sometimes when I’d call.”
Oh hell. It had never occurred to me that Bess might get in trouble at work. “What did Pines tell you? Did she say you had to drop me like a hot potato?”
“She told me that if I slept with the athletes, my reputation would be ruined. That nobody would take me seriously. It’s not the same for women in this business. Her exact words were—‘What do you call a woman who takes money from the man she’s banging? You call her a whore.’”
“Jesus Christ,” I hiss. “That’s harsh. It’s not like you weremyagent.”
“Oh, please. My boss was your agent. I knew Pines was right.”
It’s dark in the room, and I can almost feel her blushing from embarrassment. And it pisses me off on her behalf.
“Shewasn’tright,” I scoff. “It wasn’t her place to lecture you like that.”
“Wasn’t it?” she argues. “I didn’t enjoy hearing it, but she did me a favor. I didn’t want that reputation, Tank. I needed to be taken seriously. And that’s why I told you that I was too busy to see you anymore. If that seemed like a brushoff, I apologize.”
“You could have explained. I would have understood.” Even as I say the words, I wonder if they’re true. I was an arrogant little fuck at twenty-three.
“I wassoembarrassed,” she whispers. “And so young. And more naïve than you can imagine. It was my first real job, and I needed to do well. I just…”
“All right. Don’t sweat it now. Not after that spectacular encore performance.” I lean over and kiss her quickly.
She laughs, and her tummy quakes against my hip.
“Should I find our wine glasses?”
“I need a shower so badly right now.”
“That’s a fine idea,” I say, swinging my legs off the bed. “Step right this way.”
Seven
