Once again, Heath’s dysfunctional relationship with Phoebe Calebow was getting in the way of what he wanted. No matter how hard he tried to fix things with her, his early mistakes kept coming back to bite him in the ass. He never let the pressure show and only shrugged. “You gotta do what you gotta do.”

“You guys are all bloodsuckers,” Dean said bitterly. “You take two, three percent off the top, and for doing what? For pushing a few papers around. Big fucking deal. How many two-a-days have you sweated through?”

“Not as many as you, that’s for damn sure. I was too busy getting As in my classes on contract law.”

Robillard smiled.

Heath smiled back. “And just so we’re straight…When it comes to those big endorsements I’ve been landing for my clients, I take a hell of a lot more than three percent off the top.”

Robillard didn’t blink. “The Zagorskis are guaranteeing me Nike. Can you do that?”

“I never guarantee what I don’t have in my pocket.” He took a sip of beer. “I don’t bullshit my clients, at least about anything important. I also don’t steal from them, lie to them, or disrespect them behind their backs. There’s no agent in the business who works harder than I do. Not a one. And that’s all I’ve got to offer.” He rose, pulled out his money clip, and slapped a hundred-dollar bill on the bar. “If you want to talk about it, you know where to find me.”

When Heath got home that night, he pulled the smudged invitation from his dresser drawer. He kept it lying around as a reminder of the gut-wrenching pain he’d felt when he’d first opened it. He’d been twenty-three.

You are cordially invited to attend the marriage of

JULIE AMESSHELTON

and

HEATH D. CAMPIONE

The Silver Anniversary Celebration of

VICTORIA AND DOUGLAS PIERCE SHELTON III

and

The Golden Anniversary Celebration of

MILDRED AND DOUGLAS PIERCE SHELTON II

Valentine’s Day

6:00 P.M.

The Manor

East Hampton, New York

The wedding planner had sent him the invitation by mistake, not realizing he was the groom, which spoke volumes all by itself. For the first time he’d discovered his marriage to Julie was just one cog of a well-oiled family production. All his securities came crashing in. He’d known it was too good to be true, Julie Shelton falling in love with a guy who was grubbing his way through law school by cleaning out septic tanks.

“I don’t see why you’re so upset about this,” Julie had said when he’d confronted her. “The dates just worked out that way. You should be happy we’re keeping up the tradition. Getting married on Valentine’s Day is good luck in my family.”

“This isn’t just any Valentine’s Day,” he retorted. “Golden anniversary, silver anniversary…What would you have done for a husband if I hadn’t come along on schedule?”

“But you did, so I don’t see the problem.”

He’d pleaded with her to change the date, but she’d refused. “If you love me, you’ll do this my way,” she’d said.