Page 83 of Sure Shot
But our little tragedy wasn’t Henry Kassman’s fault. “Bess still feels it’s unprofessional to date a player. And we’re not together anymore. So don’t tease her, okay?”
“Not even a little?” Henry asks. “I don’t get much entertainment.”
“Tease her as much as you want, Henry. But not about this.”
“Fine,” he grumbles. “I can see you two as a nice couple. You both have a lot of spirit. I know I shouldn’t hand a man his divorce papers and then press him about his love life, but…”
“Don’t rush me, old man. And Bess and I aren’t meant to be. I don’t think I’m meant to be with anyone. I can’t go through it all again.”
Henry makes an impatient noise. “If I’m still here a year from now, I’m gonna ask you again. I bet you’ll be singing a different tune.”
“You go ahead and ask me. In fact, I’ll set a reminder in my phone,” I say, because I can’t bear the thought of Henry dying. “But my answer will be the same. Bess wants a marriage and a family, and I can’t give that to her.”
“That’s bullshit, Tank.” He folds his hands over his belly. “I bet you didn’t even tell her why your marriage to Jordanna fell apart.”
“It fell apart for the same reason all marriages fall apart—a lot of disappointment and not enough love.” I will never get over the sound of my wife crying night after night in the bathroom, where she thought I couldn’t hear her.
It wrecks a guy.
“That’s oversimplifying things,” Henry scolds me. “You got to bring the dark stuff out into the sunlight, or it won’t ever go away. You want someone to spend your life with? There’s no reason you shouldn’t have that. You’re healthy. You’re still rich, thanks to the prenup this old man made you sign. You’re not bad looking. And your new team isjustabout to figure out how to use your best skills on the ice. Any second now.”
I snicker. “Sure they are.”
“And most importantly…” He reaches over and lays a hand on my elbow. “You’re a good man, Tank. I have always thought so. And I always will.”
Fuck me. My eyes get hot. “Thank you, Henry. And right back at you.”
“I have one more document for you. But this one you have to sign.” He reaches for the bedside table again and grabs another folder, opening it and handing it to me.
“What’s this?” There are only a few lines of text on the page.
Dear Henry Kassman,
You are hereby fired as my agent.
Although the stated terms of our original contract do not require an explanation, only a waiting period of thirty days, and a settling of accounts pursuant to a very boring paragraph on page four, I feel the need to explain myself. I have already heard your best jokes, and I am tired of steak dinners and red wine. So let’s just end this thing amicably.
Sincerely,
Mark Tankiewicz
P.S. I still regret the million dollars you got me for shooting those underwear ads.
Slapping a hand over my mouth, I laugh. But, damn it, my throat is tight. I don’t want to sign this paper. Ever. And it kills me that his last professional act for me was making the fucking thing funny, so I wouldn’t feel so guilty that I’m living and he’s…
I inhale carefully through my nose, controlling myself. “Why do we need this?”
“So nobody has to second guess Bess and Eric’s right to represent you.” Henry hands me a pen. “This is really for them. That’s why you have to sign.”
I quickly scribble my name on the line and hand it back to him. My throat is a desert, and my sinuses feel prickly.
A nurse comes into the room, announcing that Henry needs medication and a bath. So—after extracting a promise from him that I can come back next week—I show myself out.
It isn’t until I’m taking deep, cleansing breaths in the elevator that I realize something. Signing that document to separate my business from Henry’s hurt me a hell of a lot worse than taking delivery of my divorce decree.
“It’s a rebuilding year,” I say to nobody as I leave the building and head for the ferry.
* * *
