Page 37 of Sure Shot
“Practice was just as bad as you read in the newspaper. Luckily, my personal life isn’t quite as complicated as you might think from the comments.”
My agent snorts. “Neverread the comments, kid. That’s the first rule of life.”
“I thought the first rule of life was never order a red wine that’s not old enough to go to kindergarten.”
He laughs again, and I feel more relaxed than I have in days. Bullshitting with Henry Kassman is one of my favorite things to do on game day. I didn’t realize until right now how much I missed this guy.
Bess was right, damn it. A guy just needs his agent sometimes. “Thanks for the presents,” I say. “The balloons are a little silly. But I think there’s a fruit basket, too.”
“That’s all Kelly’s work. But silly is good. Promise me you won’t spend the day brooding. If you can’t sleep, go out and do something fun.”
“Fun? Like what?”
“Doesn’t matter. Pinball. Biking on the river. I know the game is important, but so is your life. You only get one.”
His oddly introspective comment has the strangest effect on me. I get goosebumps. Henry likes to win almost as much as I do. His pregame pep talk is usually more along the lines ofknock ’em over and make ’em cry. “I’ll keep that in mind,” I say slowly.
“You do that. Now go out and do something fun, and don’t waste another second on the haters. Got any new friends yet?”
“No.” I chuckle. “That might be a while. They all think I’m a manwhore and a loose cannon.”
“They’ll come around. You need friends, Tank. No man is an island.”
“Yeah, but some men are traded to them.”
He laughs, but then he ends up coughing. “I better go,” he says, wheezing. “But I’ll be watching tonight.”
“Thanks, Henry,” I say. “Talk to you later.” He agrees, and I hang up the phone.
I spend the next few minutes watching the reflection of river light sparkle on the ceiling. I’m probably too stirred up for a pregame nap.
I pick up my phone again and scroll backward through my texts, hoping to see something from Bess, who I can’t stop thinking about.
Nothing. Damn it. I guess I have to take things into my own hands.Hey Bessie. Where are you today? I was just thinking about you.
She could be anywhere right now. She covers hockey and baseball players on thirty teams in twenty-one states. I know this because I cyber-stalked her after our first hookup.
Is it egotistical of me to wonder if she’s staring out a window somewhere thinking about me? We had a hell of a time together the other night. Bess is terrific. She knocked me out of my funk. Part way, anyhow. I still have issues. But not with the sexiest person I know in New York.
The reply comes one minute later.
Bess: Were you, now?
Tank: Absolutely. Kassman told me to go out and do something fun. And naturally I thought of you.
Bess: Go Fish, Tank.
Tank: I’m not in the mood for cards, thanks. You didn’t answer the question. Where are you?
Bess: I’m in Boston at the moment.
Tank: Fuck.
Bess: Are you ready for tonight?
Tank: Of course. The younger guys are still treating me like a turd someone left on their doorstep. And I have no rhythm with the forwards. But no problemo!
Bess: You got this! Yay hockey! <- World’s shortest pep talk, because I don’t want to be accused of agenting you.
