Page 108 of Keeper
“I don’t have to tell you. You’ve been a pro long enough to see first-hand how women get around you.”
“Not all women. Ainsley’s not like that.”
“Oh, Tanner.” He let out a heavy sigh. “You’re still young, so maybe you won’t understand this, but I’ve got to at least try to level with you. I’ve seen this same situation play out over a thousand times in my career. When you’re young and in the show, these girls love you, no matter what—cross their hearts and hope to fuckin’ die, right? But then comes the day you retire andpoof:the money stops, the fame is gone, and the magic is no more. Suddenly, you’re not the man she remembers marrying. Can’t even blame her, either, because she fell in love with a professional athlete at the height of his fame and physical prowess—not a washed up, mid-thirties retiree with a growing beer belly and no idea what to do with all the free time he’s suddenly got. With you holed up at home all the time, they start to miss all the alone time they got when you were out on the road. Before long, they start to resent your presence. Then they loathe you. Then it’s just a matter of time before they divorce you and walk out the door with half your career earnings to be with some stud named Chad Thundercock.”
I scoffed. “Now I know you’re playing around—just listen to the shit coming out of your mouth.Chad Thundercock?Really?”
“I’m not joking, Tanner. Five years after retirement, over sixty percent of pro athletes end up divorced. A lot of those guys end up bankrupt, too. Is that how you want to end up?”
“No,” I begrudgingly admitted.
“Then you should start following my advice, because my job is to keep you from ever getting to that point. And what you’ve got to donowis send Marta those photos. She wants them by five o’clock today.”
I laughed with disbelief. “Oh, really. She gave me a deadline?”
“Yes, but don’t panic, we’ve still got plenty of time if you just do what clearly needs to be done.”
“I can’t believe you got me into this mess,” I grumbled. “All I wanted to do was play hockey. I never wanted anything to do with this.”
“All you had to do was pose for some harmless pictures with an internet model. DidItell you it was a good idea to blow off the shoot? Did I tell you it was a good idea to piss off an influential model by hooking up with herphotographer,for God’s sake? No, I didn’t. SoI didn’t get you into this mess, Tanner.Youdid—the photo shoot was a lay-up, an easy save, but you botched it.” He blew out a short gust of air. “But hey, it’s just been that kind of year for you, I guess.”
That jab was the last straw.
“You know what? I don’t need this,” I snarled. “And I don’t need you, either. You can go fuck yourself, Pete.”
“Hey hey, calm down,” he said, realizing the damage he’d done. “Listen, sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I’m just frustrated.”
“I’m frustrated, too, because you’ve led me astray all year. All season long, I’ve had this contract situation hanging over my head when itshouldbe the easiest contract in the world to get done. All Ireallywant is to re-sign in Dallas—not make millions more playing elsewhere. I love this team, Pete. I don’t care about the money, I care about my boys.” I huffed, struck by revelation. “Damn, man, it’s no wonder I’ve been playing like shit—it’s so obvious to me now, I can’t believe I didn’t see it before.”
“Now hang on, Tanner. You can make a lot more than the Devils are willing to offer—”
“Yeah. I know. But I like it here. I like it in Dallas. I’ve got a good situation going here and I want tostaywith this team. You’re supposed to work for me, but all fuckin’ year, you’ve been steering me away from what I want.AllI want is to play hockey here in Dallas, but you’ve got me chasing a big payday. And why, Pete? So your three percent cut is that much bigger?”
“Okay, okay, I know you’re angry.” He switched into his affable, happy-go-lucky salesman tone. “But hey, Tanner—what do I always say?”
“Use hockey,” I said, quoting his maxim, “don’t let hockey use you.”
“That’s right,” he said. “Which means you’ve got to wring out every last dollar while you can—”
“But what if I want to ‘use hockey’ to stay where I know I’ll be happy?”
“Hang on, Tanner,listento what I’m saying before you make a big mistake—”
“Nah. I’m done listening to you.”
“What are you saying?” he asked with a defeated whimper.
“You’re fired.”
He scoffed. “You can’t fire me now! You’re going to need my help to get out of this mess.”
“No, actually, I don’t think I will.”
“So that’s it? You’re switching agencies, then? Someone’s been courting you, haven’t they? Filling your head with promises? Remember, everyone talks a big game, but only one agent has a track history of delivering results.” He paused. “Tell me who’s going to rep you, Tanner, I need to know who the rat-fucker is that stole you—”
I didn’t have any more to say.
“Bye, Pete,” I said as I hung up.
