Page 59 of Sure Shot
“Nah—keep them,” I say quickly. “You can give them to me when you let me visit.”
“I’m so sorry, kid,” he says quietly.
“Don’t be. I’m fine.”
“I know you are. But nobody enjoys failure. I have my own divorce to prove it. And it’s not easy to start over in a new city alone. I’ll bet the gossip is a drag.”
I grunt, because he’s right. This very morning I’d seen another rumor of my infidelity on Twitter, of all places. “People say I cheated.”
“People areidiots.” Henry’s voice sounds stronger all of a sudden. “They don’t know you. Just remember that. They don’t know Mark Tankiewicz at all. Say it.”
“They don’t know me at all,” I repeat. And he’s right. It helps to say it out loud. “Who writes shit on Twitter about people they’ve never met? Who has the goddamned time to spend on that?”
“Assholes,” he says firmly. “Who needs ’em.”
“Not me,” I say, feeling better already.
“You find an apartment yet?”
“No.” I laugh. “I haven’t even tried. The new hotel your assistant found for me is so nice. I may never leave.”
“Find a place, Tank. Try to make New York your home.”
As if that would even be possible. The only time I feel like myself is when I’m hanging out with Bess and we’re grabbing dinner or watching TV or rolling around in her bed. We’re not a typical couple. I’m a cynical pain in the butt, and half the time we’re in separate cities. But I still look forward to every hour we spend together.
“If you can’t find a place in DUMBO, try the Heights or Manhattan. I’d help you look if I could.”
“I’ll take care of it,” I say, just to make him happy. “When am I visiting you?”
“Don’t come here,” he says with a wheezy sigh. “It’s fucking depressing. Bess Beringer came up here, and I scared the poor thing to death. And that woman doesn’t scare easy. You know Bess, right?”
“I know Bess,” I say, smiling as I walk down Front Street.
“She’s a great agent. Great person. You need another agent, Tank.”
“Someday,” I say lightly. There’s no way I’m going to discuss those plans with him. It’s morbid.
“Find an apartment, then. Soon. Get a cat.”
“A cat?” I laugh out loud. “What for?”
“Even grumpy men deserve pets. A cat won’t take any shit from you. But it will still be happy to see you, even if he won’t show it.”
“You are full of advice today.”
“And now you are obligated to listen to it,” he growls. “If I kick off before we speak again, you’ll regret not listening.”
“I’m listening,” I promise. I’d say anything to stop the talk about dying. I’m nowhere near ready for Henry to go.
“Good,” he rasps. “Now go home and call the realtor.”
“Fine,” I grumble. “Text me a date when I can stop by, though. I’m heading to California for a three-game road trip. But after that, I’m around for a while. I’ll bring you lunch or something and you can give me my divorce papers.”
“All right, kid.” He sighs. “Soon.”
“I’m gonna hold you to it.”
After that, I let him off the phone. He’d sounded exhausted, and I feel blue. I head towards the team headquarters, where I have an appointment. And I try to summon some enthusiasm for calling the real estate broker.
