He shrugs. “You’re allowed to talk to your brother, Bess. But I didn’t know you were having a birthday.”
“Yup,” I say quickly. “I do that every year.”
He chuckles again. “Twenty-one, huh? How is that possible? When I look at you, I’m already thinking—adults are getting younger and younger these days. But you’re not even twenty-one?”
“I skipped eighth grade,” I explain. “So I graduated a year earlier than everyone else.” He doesn’t need to know the details, but skipping a year was simply a matter of survival. Dave and I were living with my grandparents, who didn’t really want us around. So I did what I could to shorten my stay, especially once I realized that Dave would go off to college and leave me there.
“Ah, that explains it, smarty-pants.” He hands me a sticky note. “After you finish your lunch, could you pull the most recent contracts for these four athletes?”
“No problem.” I place the note on my desk. “I’ll have them on your desk by the time you get back from your one o’clock meeting.”
“Amazing. Which day is it, anyway?”
“Today?” I blink. “Friday.”
“No—I mean your birthday. When is that?”
“Oh. Next Wednesday.”
“That’s the night I’m taking the rookies out to Sparks for dinner, right?”
“Yessir.” I’d added the dinner to his calendar this morning.
“Then you’ll join us,” he says. “Unless you make other plans.”
“Oh! You don’t need to buy me a steak for my birthday, Mr. Kassman.” Lord, I don’t want him to think of me as a mooch. “That’s really nice of you, though.”
“Listen, rookie, I’ve told you to call me Henry. When you say ‘Mr. Kassman,’ I just feel old. And after twenty years at this job, I don’t really need another steak dinner at Sparks. I’d rather go home and read a Patterson thriller until the book hits me in the face when I nod off. But this is the business. I gotta welcome some young punks to the city and show ’em a good time. If you come out to dinner, you’ll be doing me a favor.”
“Oh,” I say slowly, trying to decide whether or not to believe him.
“Do you like creamed spinach?”
“I really don’t know.” My idea of a fine meal is chicken fried rice from the Chinese place around the corner from my tiny apartment. (It’s really good rice, though.)
“The creamed spinach at Sparks is amazing. And the steak is to die for. Come out. Enjoy a glass of expensive birthday wine on me. Chat up some rookies. It’ll be great.”
“Sure. I’d love to. Thank you for inviting me.”
He beams. “Excellent! This meeting I’m off to might take awhile.”
“I’ll grab those contracts while you’re gone.”
“You’re a peach, Bessie. If I don’t see you later, have a great weekend.”
My weekend is quiet, because I don’t have any friends in Manhattan yet. But it’s August, and the weather is fine, and the city beckons. I wander through Central Park alone, getting my first glimpse of the zoo, and splurging on a hot pretzel.
Sunday night, I read three files that I brought home for the weekend—one each for the players we’ll be entertaining on Wednesday night.
Henry Kassman didn’t ask me to do this. But I can’t show up to a dinner party without knowing something about the players in attendance. What if they want to discuss business?
I’ll be meeting an American, a Czech player, and also a young Russian. They’re all attending the New York training camp, and hoping to make the team. If they do, they’ll be my brother’s rivals. So that’s fun.
If they don’t, they’ll be sent to the minors in Syracuse for a year or two, to see how they develop.
The American player seems to have the best chance at success. He won the Hobey Baker award in college, and his stats are incredible. Mark Tankiewicz. I turn the name over in my mind. Twenty bucks says his nickname is Tank.
He went to college in North Dakota, but he’s originally from Washington State. I don’t recognize the name of the town, so I Google it. Carter, WA has a population of just 1,200 people, and it’s surrounded by ranches.
Hmm. Now I’m picturing a young man who’s far from home. Maybe he’s just like me, struggling to adjust to the big city. Maybe he already made the mistake of getting on the downtown-bound subway when he needed to go uptown, and having to get off again to switch tracks.
We’re both rookies, I guess. This idea calms me down a fraction. Eventually I’ll figure the city out, right? And I’ll learn enough to be useful at my new job. Everything is so overwhelming right now. I feel lucky, but I’m just so intimidated. Every day is a struggle.
There’s a headshot in the Tankiewicz folder, too. I pull it out of its envelope, because a girl has to be able to match a name to a face, right?
And…jeez. This man is something else. He’s got a strong jaw and a serious, green-eyed stare. Thick hair. Long eyelashes. Wowzers. Wednesday’s dinner just became a whole lot more scenic. Happy Birthday to me.
By Wednesday afternoon, I’m really looking forward to the occasion. I’m finally twenty-one years old, so I can have a glass of wine, and it won’t even be against the law.
Mr. Kassman asked me to meet him at Sparks at seven o’clock. I’m on schedule to finish all my work by five, though. What to do with those extra two hours?
These are my thoughts as I carefully punch a fax number into the machine. Then I hit the SEND button and listen to the phone dial the number. The
