Sure Shot (Brooklyn #4)(9)

I give him a poke in the elbow, and he snickers. Eric and I have known each other a long time. I was his agent for eight years, since Clove—Eric’s first agent—died in a car crash.

Clove had been a senior agent at Henry Kassman and Associates, and he’d had a lot of clients—both hockey and baseball, which was unusual. Some of Clove’s athletes left our firm after he died, and some of them got picked up by more senior agents. But Eric and a handful of others picked me.

“They know they’ll get a lot of your attention,” Henry Kassman had explained to me. “And they know I’ve got your back. So put on your game face and fight for your new clients, Bess. You’re going to do a great job.”

At the time, I’d been both gratified and terrified by the number of clients I’d picked up when Clove passed away. Within the space of a couple weeks, I’d gone from a third-stringer who’d mostly answered phones, to a busy agent in her own right.

I’d never looked back. Two years later I’d left Kassman to start my own business. There weren’t many agents in Detroit, and I knew I could pick up a bunch of athletes who wanted local representation.

That feels like a hundred years ago, though. And here I am starting over on the East Coast, because my priorities have shifted once again.

“Hey girls!” We’re joined by Georgia, Becca’s best friend and the team publicist. “Nice dress, Bess! You look amazing. Wow.”

Eric snickers, and I have to give him another poke in the elbow. But the surprise in Georgia’s voice is a wakeup call. “I guess I have a reputation for avoiding girly clothes.”

“I’m a proud tomboy myself,” Georgia insists. “Although Rebecca tries. Did you hear she just bought a Brooklyn nail salon?”

“Oh, neat,” I say, feigning enthusiasm.

At that, everyone laughs. Even the baby.

“When I reopen the place, will you let me treat you to a mani pedi?” Becca asks with a smile. “It’s fun. I promise.”

“It really is,” Georgia insists. “I don’t care much about nail polish, but I love a nice pedicure. It’s all about the foot rub and the gossip.”

“Okay, why not?” I say. “I’ll try anything once.”

“Excellent!” Georgia says, holding out her arms. “Now let me hold the baby. It’s my turn.”

“I suppose.” My reluctance to pass her over is genuine. I love babies in general and Rosie specifically.

“Could I leave her with you two for a minute?” Eric asks. “Gotta hit the little boys’ room, and then find her bottle.”

“Sure, Big Daddy,” Georgia says, taking Rosie from me. “We will do you the favor of snuggling this baby. Where’s Alex, anyway?”

Becca points toward the grand staircase. “She and Nate disappeared into his office to talk business.”

“On a Friday night?” Georgia scoffs, kissing Rosie’s cheek.

“Have you met Nate?” Becca asks. “I’d better greet some more guests. The new guy looks a little lonely out there. Later, peeps.” She excuses herself, and I resist the impulse to look out the window to check on Tank.

Lonely? That doesn’t sound like him.

Georgia bounces Rosie and gives me a smile. “What’s new? And what’s your brother doing in town this weekend?”

“Tomorrow night he’s taking me out to dinner. This afternoon he sold his condo to Delilah Spark, and tonight he’s out drinking with the guys.”

“Oh, great. Leo will probably come home bombed.”

“Probably,” I agree. “Tell me some gossip, girly. You know you want to.” And agents live for gossip. It’s how we find our clients.

“Let’s see. The new guy is Mark Tankiewicz. I’m sure you heard about the trade.”

“Right. From Dallas,” I say, sidestepping the fact that we know each other. “Your coach is hoping to deepen the experience on the bench after losing a couple of veterans.”

“Yep,” Georgia says cheerfully. “But the transition is looking rocky. The younger players aren’t quite ready to listen to a guy who stole the Cup away from them a year ago. The first two practices were…” She chooses her words carefully. “Not smooth.”

“Bummer,” I say, allowing myself a glance out the window at the veteran in question. He’s standing by a rose bush, looking grumpy. Trades are rough on a guy. They just are. Even if you’re a superstar.

Georgia drops her voice. “Leo was pretty testy last night. I guess Tank and Jason Castro had words. The new guy is a little prickly.”

I groan inwardly, because Castro is my client. And I really hope the rift is only superficial. “They’ll sort it out,” I say. They’d better.

“Oh, of course they will. Tank seems pretty angry about the trade, though. I don’t think he saw it coming.”

“It’s a big deal to have your life uprooted,” I say. “New teammates, new home. His wife probably had to quit her job, or at least say goodbye to her friends.”

Slowly, Georgia shakes her head. “The wife isn’t coming.”

“What?” The question flies out of my mouth. I forget to cushion it with indifference.

“It’s true. I always sit down with the new players to get a feel for their publicity needs. And the first thing I asked him was about his wife. He flat out told me that she filed for divorce a few weeks ago.”